From this time last year, and because my yard is covered in a carpet of purple clover right now. She said to him wait, I like the wild violet, don't cut there yet. And that made me smile. Because I know her heart. It happens every spring. When the ardent rhizomes, climbers and creepers insist on their moment. I'm recalling a time when I drove home to our farmhouse in Alabama a few summers back. The little house had been closed up for the winter and the few acres of brush land