Out in our wandering, we came upon an old house, near falling away to rejoin the earth.

The broken walls and windows seem to cry for those that are gone.

THe yard is grown with blackberry briars, slowly eating away at the bed of iris.

I can see the touch of a woman’s hand here, and I wonder about her…

…  I can see her there in the yard, in a long skirt and apron, enjoying the scent and beauty of these iris, perhaps as she dumped out the dishwater or spent some time at a washtub with a scrub board.

I’ll be back, with a shovel and tub. I will take her flowers to a new home, and hope someday in the future, someone will do the same here and spread the beauty and springtime joy.

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