Terrie in the front garden — a later year

Terrie in front of the same pink azalea, on the same Marietta street, in a year past the 2011 print. White-haired, in a striped sleeveless top, standing where the “flowers my best” line of her poem had its annual fact.

The pair — Terrie in the garden, May 2011 and Terrie in the garden, a few years later — is the family’s own then-and-now of the same person and the same azalea: continuity made out of the smallest possible variable, a single bush in flower, a single year apart from the next.