We planted this forsythia years ago at the side of a grassy strip on the top of our “mountain” where the land falls off, giving way to a cliff, overgrown with weeds, pine trees, and saplings.
We fed it with humus and kept the honeysuckle at bay, but season after season it sat there never seeming to grow much. Occasionally, we’d notice a single blossom–not exactly thrilling but at least a sign of life. We didn’t blame it–our gardening skills are not great and the soil is only inches deep hardly covering the rocky substratum. Plus it is in a shady spot. Not exactly a promising setting for this shrub to thrive.
Yet, this year, the forsythia, though still not a massive shrub, seems to be shining with life–and we are pleased to see its many little flowers on its sparse but distinguishable branches.
Perhaps this particular forsythia is a teacher of patience: never give up, for one day you will blossom, perhaps not in an amazing display that everyone applauds, but perhaps on a lonesome hillside where you are the only brightness in a difficult place, and though no one will ever award you prizes, nevertheless there are some whose hearts and senses are brightened by your persistent presence.