Words for Wednesday: forcynthia

blogIMG_7647You read that title correctly. No, I did not make a typographical error there. I didn’t misspell the word forsythia, I truly meant to post forcynthia.

What in the world? you may ask.  As she nears that ripe age of 65 is she starting to lose her faculties? Or is it simply that the appearance of sunshine and spring-like weather addled her brain? Is she giddy with spring-time bliss?

To answer those questions: No, I don’t think I’m losing my almost-65-year-old mind. No, my brain isn’t addled…at least not yet. And maybe, yes, I could be giddy with spring-time bliss.

But the most accurate answer is there is a story behind the title of today’s post and I am going to share it with you.

In our yard there is one forsythia bush. It has been planted in the same spot for several years now – almost 10 this summer – and this is the year it has bloomed its best. The bush exists for one specific reason; it was a gift to me because of a childhood story I once shared with a friend.

I’ve always loved seeing forsythia bushes blooming their golden yellow, delicate, skinny petaled flowers clustered on tall spires in spring. Forsythia are so cheerful to view, even if some folks consider them invasive as they can grow quite large and can take over an area of landscaping.

But to me, they are special and I’m going to tell you why.

Unless you know me personally, you do not know that my given name is actually Cynthia. It’s right there, written on my birth certificate although the only person to call me by that name was my mother – when she was angry with me.

I’m more known for the nickname associated with Cynthia – Cindy.  But my birth name is Cynthia, a name derived from Greek, another name for Artemis, the mythological goddess of the moon. But even from my earliest memory, I knew my ‘real’ name was Cynthia and that I certainly was not a goddess.

As a youngster, every time I heard my parents discussing those bushes that appeared in spring with their bright sunshine-color blooms as forsythia, I honestly thought they were saying “for Cynthia.” So at some point in my childhood, I claimed those plants as my own. And when they bloomed, they were for me – for Cynthia.

I related this silly, little story once to a friend and it made her chuckle. But she remembered my tale. Not quite 10 years ago, my father passed away. The loss was difficult for me as he was the last remaining parent either my husband or I had. Losing Dad came right on the cusp of empty nest hood too, so my emotions were kind of a mess.

Imagine the joy it brought me when the friend gave me a gift to express her condolences at my father’s passing. The gift was a small forsythia bush which she spent a good deal of time searching for.

blogIMG_7640A gift to bless my heart. This Cynthia. This Cynthia who loves forsythia. This Cynthia who still thinks of this particular spring bloom as exclusively mine – my forcynthia.

And my forcynthia still blesses me each time I look at it, but especially in spring time. And that joy of remembering my parents, remembering that little girl who loved her parents so dearly and also her forcynthia stays with me.

Sometimes joy comes in yellow.

“Forsythia is pure joy. There is not an ounce, not a glimmer of sadness or even knowledge in forsythia. Pure, undiluted, untouched joy.” ~ Anne Morrow Lindbergh

©2019 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

13 responses

  1. This is so heartwarming. What a blessing to have truly thoughtful and loving people in your life. This friend still blesses you 10 years later. I can’t imagine looking at another Forsythia without thinking about you and this story. After all, these are YOURS!

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  2. What a beautiful story! There is a huge forsythia bush behind my parents’ house and last year it bloomed right before a frost and promptly all the blooms died. So this year my mom was stressed that the cooler weather would kill the bush but instead it thrived and it bloomed brighter than other years.

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  3. I can not tell you how much I love this post. What a wonderful story , a wonderful plant and wonderful memories all wrapped up into one fabulous post. Thank you. I do love these plants and remember them outside our home in New Concord, Ohio. My dad planted them at our new house there and they grew like crazy and I loved the bright yellow color which always reminds me of my dad. It is the one bush/shrub that my husband can identify as well and we giggle about it when he points them out. Now I have another name for them and will call them “forcynthia” from now on. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  4. What a sweet post!!! I planted a “forcynthia” a few years ago, but the deer thought I planted it just for them. (Imagine that!) It’s still there, and green, but no blooms. I have a feeling that, from this point on, every time I see a forsythia/forcynthia, I will think of you!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Apparently, your deer did not get the memo that those plants belong solely to me! 😉 Oh, Dianna, how nice to hear that you will think of me when you see those yellow blooms. I still say, “Oh look, the forcynthias are blooming” while we are out driving.

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