I wish I had a picture of it. When I was in high school, in Driver’s Ed class, we drove down country roads to practice. One drive took us by a plot of grass and Oklahoma mud where a farmhouse had once stood. Stripped to the concrete foundation, I remember the square of irises, popping purple and green from the ground. They were something left behind. A little light, a little brightness, to say “we were here.”

Now I have my own little plot of mud and grass. And on those days when it’s just overwhelming, when the world feels like it’s regressing to somewhere darker, I plant flowers. I leave a little light behind.

It’s almost winter. Denver went from golden autumn to gray, so it wasn’t much fun, but I spent some time today putting about 150 bulbs into the mud. It may take a year or two, but they will bloom. Black parrot tulips, crocus in purple and white, early snow glories, and a crazy rainbow spread of irises.

I plant flowers. I leave a little light behind.