and then we had the darker ones, velvet and purple, black cat's ears in the sun...."
Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid's Tale
Sometimes, driving out in the country, I see a lonely grove of trees and a clump of iris in a field. They are all that is left where a farmhouse once stood, where lives were lived and loved, where the seasons turned with absolute purpose and certainty until the land was reclaimed by green.
Except for the iris.