Forsythia, this week's F-Word

When my eldest was in the first or second grade, new to riding the school bus and absorbing vocabulary words like a sponge, he arrived home proclaiming he had just learned the "F-word".  "It's really bad," he said, "and I can't tell it to you."  He looked very sheepish but I could tell he was anxious to try out his new word.  I, on the other hand had to stifle a giggle and maintain my serious Mom-is-in-charge demeanor.  "I think you should just go ahead and tell me," I prodded.  "There are a lot of words that start with F."  Puzzled, he replied "but this is THE F-word.  The bad one."

After some encouragement, and a promise from me that he wouldn't get in trouble for saying it, he closed his eyes, grimaced and quickly said "Fart!"  "Phew," was my first thought.  Then it was very hard not to laugh. A teachable moment, complete with unrealistic high hopes that there would be no other "bad one",  it was important to make him understand that this F-word, however mild in my eyes, wasn't appropriate to repeat in public.  Mentally I acknowledged the marker; another step toward being big.  As the years passed, there were more words and consequences.

More to the point...

...I am enamored and enthralled by the F-word in my home this week, the forsythia branches I cut from the bushes in the corner of the garden.  I filled two vases with twigs late last week.  In only 7 days, the tiny, almost invisible, bud drops turned into voluptuous vessels, ready to deliver their beautiful bundles of joy.

And then slowly they began to burst open in response to the sun pouring in the windows over the unseasonably warm weekend.  For several days it stayed warm enough indoors, day and night, that heat was not required - and my stunning, womb-laden sprays of forsythia were well incubated.

In the dreary end of winter, sunny days combined with warmer temperatures and spring flowers provide the most amazing lift.  My yellow and pink-walled dining room exudes a sort of opulence when decorated with the golden blossoms.  I find myself making excuses to pass by the flowers and admire them, noting the rapid bursting into bloom.

They don't last long, but they give such a show indoors, long before the bushes outside begin to work their magic.  It's a wonderful time time of year.  We're still waiting for spring, and it snowed last night, but the  F-word has instilled hope, and sent the pent-up spirits soaring.