Outside the snow lies deep, while on my dining room table yellow flowers bloom. It is a forsythia branch and the last little buds open while a few leaves now appear where flowers once were. For me it is a small miracle and a symbol of duration and perseverence. Six long weeks or more it has survived in flower. I cut it off the bush in the second week of October. I was attracted to it because its leaves had turned a deep red and it looked unusual and a herald of autumn. I took it from its vase to bring to town a week later and laid it as part of the centre display on our round rug at our monthly dance meeting. Then back in its vase more bright flowers have continued to come forth. The red leaves have long ago dried up and fallen. It looks a bare stick, a little forlorn to the eye of some. But as long as flowers open and new buds swell it shall grace my table with its brave beauty. Thus I shall persevere too, honoring its example.
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