Last night I finally managed to get in touch with the nursery that sells the bush cherries by calling them up in the evening, when I figured they wouldn't be "out in the fields." (I still got a machine, but they called me back within the hour.) The guy I talked to explained that they ship the bush cherries, and all other shrubs, in the spring only, because that's the best time to plant them. "A lot of people do plant them in the fall," he explained, "and a lot of them die." So he took my address and promised to send me a catalogue, which should arrive around New Year's. At that time, I can get my order in early for the cherries, and the bushes themselves should arrive by the time the ground is thawed enough to plant them. Hooray!
Now we'll have plenty of time to clear away and shred the remainder of the forsythia carcasses in the meantime. No, we still haven't gotten to it yet—first we had a near-solid week of rain, then we both came down with colds, and then we spend last weekend away at the Folk Project Festival. But this weekend we should be able to manage it, surely. If it doesn't rain. And it's not too cold. And we don't have to go to a football game. :-)