At daybreak I woke up and went outside. I walked around, taking in the morning. At a certain place surrounded by my last two month’s work, I stopped, looked, and listened. I was out standing in my field so to speak.
Then, as I was noticing chew marks on a recently transplanted fortnight lily (deer), one of the delicate iris-like blossoms opened up like an origami swan right before my eyes. (I know they open up first thing, but had never witnessed it before). It quivered on its slender, green, conical stalk, the increased sail area aloft receiving signals from a phantom zephyr as yet unfelt by human senses.
I waited for at least 10 minutes, transfixed, anticipating the next one to unfurl. But no.
Andrew came back into the house, excited to tell me about what he had observed. I went out, determined to see one open myself. I stood there for what seemed like a fortnight. They refused to cooperate.