Last spring, I transplanted all my schoolhouse flowers. Moved them from the bed in the southeast corner of the yard to new spots around the house. There were enough bulbs that I was able to start three new beds. There’s a group off the steps to the back porch. One in the little bed in the tifway yard, and still more along the fence bordering the driveway. And apparently, there were so many bulbs, that some were left behind and those have flourished in the old bed. Now, I have four spots to watch come this fall.

Between now and then, however, they’ll just be nice green shoots, shouting out the promise of bright red blooms. In a sense, they’re like the spiderworts that live in the beds beneath the oaks and various other spots in the yard. Mostly the spiderworts just look like a wide leafed grass growing in a clump. But come this spring, for a two or three-week period, they make every flower in the yard bow down in homage to their beauty of purple and gold.

I wish I could figure out how to do a time-lapse of my yard over a year. I think it would be a hit. I’ve got one running in my head and it would be nice to share it with everyone. In addition to the schoolhouse flowers and spiderworts, I can see buds on the lacey oaks and chinquapins, and I know when they leaf the crape myrtles will follow, and of course there are the lantana and Turks Caps. It’s a never-ending show of green and color and butterflies, and hummingbirds. Although, now that I think about it, the one running in my mind still has brightest flower in the yard, my wife, as a central character, and the movie is never as good as the book.

John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tal