I posted the photo below on my Instagram and Facebook last week after driving by this lovely forsythia bush on Fifth Avenue. Our windows were rolled down, the breeze was coming in, and the scent of this yellow cluster came into the car cabin.
Shortly after I posted the photo, my sister made a comment that these bushes always reminded her of our Great-Grandma Brown.
These tiny, yellow star bursts were featured in Grandma Brown's yard {or, at least within our play-radius}, among the houses on that small street near my elementary school. I still have a single wooden bird, initially carved to ornament her German cuckoo clock, hidden away somewhere in remembrance of those afternoons of playing at her house. I wasn't even ten years old when she passed away, but those are some of the first fragile memories I have.
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