My first house was a small ranch house in a small town. It had been built by a man and his wife and they were the only ones who had ever lived there. They lived in that same house their whole lives and by the time I moved in it was in serious need of some updating. I loved the history of the house though. And I liked updating it and making it mine.
One of my favorite things about this house was the yard. It had a huge yard. The woman who had lived there loved flowers. I knew because the yard was full of them. I was almost afraid to mow the yard because I never knew what would pop up. It was like Christmas. Every day it seemed something new came up. Sunflowers, peonie bushes, poppies, tulips, and a giant magnolia tree outside my bedroom window. I was in love with it.
We had these big bushes that grew along the front fence. I was indifferent about them. I liked that it blocked the view into our yard from the street. Then, one day, they turned yellow. Bright brilliant yellow bushes created a backdrop for hand dug fire pit and flower surprises. I loved these forsythia bushes. I would take clippings and make bouquets out of them.
I have since moved on from that house and it’s no longer mine. I wonder if the flowers and the bushes remain. One day I will again have big yellow bushes.
