Not quite a native Ripley Countian - she attended only her last year of high school in Doniphan though she taught in the R-1 system for 32 years - Teresa (Pearson) Lee delights in surprising readers and herself with anecdotal observations of life in general. Maybe you can blame her St.Louis roots for a quirky humor and some slightly-askewed opinions, but never doubt she writes from the heart.

JAR Moments

Posted Monday, April 17, 2023, at 4:04 PM

Two then young forsythia bushes in bloom. This year only one of the 7 mature bushes bloomed. I sure missed the yellow explosions around the county this year.

Have you experienced JAR moments? I’m having some that are trying to expand into JAR days. These are times when something Just Ain’t Right.

Stepping outside this morning into the spring dampness, birds were flitting about, others were chirping their ditties, squirrels were making a fuss and playing tag and the stray cat came galloping toward the porch eyeing the pocket I usually pull food from.

“What ain’t right about that?” you might ask. Except for putting one too many layers on before going out, all measured up…sorta.

The daffodils are hanging around longer, or does it seem that way simply because their yellow blossoms are not having to compete with the forsythia usually taking center stage in their yellow finery? A favorite springtime habit is driving familiar routes where forsythia bushes shine. On cloudy mornings like this one, they would seem to glow from within, making me feel like I was, too. Seeing forsythia brighten a landscape makes me the same kind of happy that hearing a banjo sing does.

It just ain’t right that only one of my seven forsythia bushes has brightened the roadside this year. Area fence rows and ditch banks are rather blah, too. Brief research into why made me think I goofed in the timing pruning last year. But, that would not have been a county-wide goof.

The most superlative forsythia I ever planted and tended was in a flowerbed outside one of my classrooms. It was never pruned but its stray branches were trimmed to provide countless starts for yellow smiles in new places. All my bushes here are offspring of that one perfect specimen that always warranted a lingering visit.

Mother Nature is doing her best, but the weirder than usual weather flips maybe has her timetable scrambled. Even the pinks and purples of the redbud and creeping phlox seem out of sync without the forsythia to lead me parade. Just Ain’t Right.