Forsythia Is Evil!

Today was a bright, clear day, the kind of day before things leaf out, when you can go out in the yard and see how all the bushes are doing. Every year, around this time, I consider ripping out the forsythia hedge and replacing it with something else, even though it hasn't even bloomed yet. Maybe a hedge of some kind of bush that makes edible berries. Blueberry hedge! How great that would be.

I love forsythia in other people's yards. I love when I'm driving around, or running, and I go past a fence and see long wands of bright yellow waving over the top of it. It's as if the forsythia is saying, "You can't contain me! Whee, I'm free!" It's like hot yellow fireworks and it always makes me happy.

Except when it's in my yard. The blossoms are still pretty, but they don't last long and the bush itself is a pain. It still says "You can't contain me!" and I can't. It seems like every time I'm not looking at it, which is most of the year, it sneakily grows a few more feet. Then suddenly one day I realize that my tomatoes and beans are in deep shade: there is a 20-foot-high forsythia hedge looming over them and stealing all the sunlight.

In addition to shading my entire yard if I let it, it's also a terrorist haven for the most evil of plants. Poison ivy loves to hide among the forsythia branches, and I can never find it all to get rid of it, so every time I prune I end up itching all over, pus running down my arm or leg from a massive poison ivy blister. Next time I go near that hedge, I'm wearing a biohazard suit.

A couple of months ago the renters next door moved, and the landlords brought over a landscaping crew to decimate the yard while the house was empty. They launched a full-scale assault on the half of my forsythia that had grown up on their side of the fence. They really whacked it. I was thrilled!
Now it's actually under control, and my garden will have full sun this summer--until it grows back.