Years ago the fair and industrious Trudy gave me a Giant Spiderwort on my birthday.
“How long ago was that?” I periodically ask her.
“Oh. I don’t know, a long time ago,” she says, drawing out the word long. We find ourselves reflecting on time this way frequently. Fugit irreparabile tempus.
In March each year, her generosity returns. And here we are.
The Spiderwort has spread. The yard is a purple splendor that glows in the morning light.