Old fences still enclose a small dooryard and every spring flowers planted by some pioneer woman push to the sunlight and the blue sky.
Fallen trees like this one become spots lush with moss and tangles of flowers.
Here purple bearded iris and yucca plants spread among the briers where a house once stood, where children played marbles in shady spots and watched for horses, wagons or farm trucks passing by.
Paperwhites and narcissus come up from bulbs and tubers that have spread underground.
An old gate once swung from a frame here and a tree grew up through it. Mystery hidden in plain sight. I passed this gate many times before I noticed it. In the summer greenery hides it and an old cellar and cistern sleep behind it in the undergrowth beside Cane Creek.
It causes me to wonder who lived there. Who planted Morning Glory vines on this fence?