Forsythia Queen

Forsythia Queen < charlesgeorgetaylo > 04/09 19:39:43

Forsythias are out in abundance in central Appalachia.

Oak, locus, maple and a host of other saplings have yet to release their buds.

The hills are still naked this time of year.

The yellow leaf-like flowers of the forsythia bush blemish beautifully on hillsides like acne on the face of a teenager.

I looked into my rear view mirror to see a complexion as clear as sailing skies with no puffy clouds in the way as I took a breather from city life this weekend and headed back to my roots.

I remember when I first learned to drive popping pimples while shifting a four- speed Pinto on the roads of home.

Look at you girl, in your green Ford Focus– you’ve come so far! I thought while looking in the rear-view while slicking my hair down in fear I may bump into a high school sweetheart from the football team.

I didn’t remember there being so many large rocks on the mountainsides of home.

I took the Fort Littleton Exit on the Pennsylvania Turnpike with George Michael pumped into the rental car’s CD player and drove down a quiet country road with the sun shining so brightly, that the bird shit on the windshield looked like a silver dollar.

I pumped the song “John and Elvis Are Dead” but realized that Charles George Taylor sure as fuck ain’t!

There were so many rocks– covered with a pretty green fungus everywhere along the roads. I wondered why I never thought twice about them as a child.

I saw a few irresitible lads from the good ole days-- they had beer bellies and looked like they would fart under flannel sheets.

When I was forced to actually use the gas pedal and take off the cruise control down the winding roads towards home, I was mesmerized by the forsythias that matched the parallel lines on the road perfectly.

I clipped a few, brought them home, stuck them in a Corona 24 oz. filled with water and will plant them in my Brooklyn Ghetto Garden in May.