The gladiolus blossoms have come and gone, leaving only the dense clumps of spiky, green leaves rising amid the flowers of later-blooming plants. But for a handful of white petals beginning to wither toward brown, the lily patch too is now a mass of spiky green leaves. Its flowers arrived a few at a time, greeting the sunny days only to be pelted by the following rain and snow and withered by the cold.
Even th emergence of the dogwood blossoms and the mulberry leaves has occurred as a series of events, darts and pauses, so that the landscape has seemed to be unchanged for days on end, caught in some enchantment by which I have been unaffected, leaving me to observe the fitful passage of the season as though leafing through a stack of old photographs which captured scenes I might have seen once, long ago, but can't identify.
Also: Never heard of him.
