Wild Cacaphony of Yellow

 

I am not a trimmer and sometimes if I don’t know what a plant is in my garden, I will let it grow until I figure out what it is.  Which is partially how I gained teasel in the front yard.  It is also why my garden is an English Garden and not a French garden.  There is a house on my way to the park that has a trimmed forsythia next to the house.  I have to tell you it looks like it is frightened.  I know that some of us more right brained artsy fartsy types tend to anthropomorphize everything but seriously you look at it and you are reminded of a shy child peeking out from behind it’s mother’s leg.  Or maybe it is like that woodchuck photo a few posts back, “is it okay to come out”.  To me the yellow of forsythia is so exuberant it must burst forth in violent sprays of yellow without hindrance or trimming.