Three years ago, when it was time to take down the old garage and build our new studio/barn, the problem was the beautiful forsythia growing at the corner of the old garage. For so many years it had helped us welcome spring back with its the bright yellow and beautiful arching branches – proof positive that spring was on the way. We knew it would have to be temporarily moved or never survive the construction. So we came up with a cleaver plan to heel it in the garden until the construction was completed. Because the forsythia was 15 feet tall, this clearly called for earth moving equipment.
The problem was that although Bob the Backhoe Guy was great and amazingly skilled with his backhoe, he was a brute, pure and simple. We realized this when he and his backhoe nimbly pulled the forsythia out of the ground like a weed and tossed it in the driveway. By the end of the day, Bob was gone and our beautiful forsythia, in full bloom, was laying in the driveway nowhere near the temporary home we had so carefully dug for it. Things being what they were, we had no choice but to cover the rootball whereit lay with burlap bags and wheelbarrows of soil and hope for the best. After two months of daily watering through the summer heat, Bob the Brute at last returned to put in the drainage system for the barn and to place our sad looking forsythia in it’s rightful place. After an hour of rotating to make sure it was perfectly placed, two things were obvious – it was perfectly placed and Bob the Brute had clearly had it with us.
For two years we had no idea if it would return to its old glory (the forsythia not Bob the Brute). But this year we have our answer. While meandering around the garden with our coffee we turned the corner of the house and realized the Forsythia was back. I love stories with happy endings, we have our sentinel of spring back, the bush tits have their favorite place to get out of the rain back. Everyone is happy, well except probably Bob the Brute.