We've lived on Oak Hill for nearly six years now. I'm thankful for this stretch of time in one place, after spending most of my adult life following my husband from one duty station to another every 18 months or so. Each year here is different, and I now have enough "experience" here to compare them.
The irises are blooming now, and the poeticus daffodils on our place are blooming well this year; sometimes they don't bloom at all. For the first time, I'm seeing them blooming cheerfully at all the neighbors' places too, and along the roadsides and in pastures. Evidently I'm seeing some old homesites that no longer exist, but the flowers still grow and bloom there.
Our place, for instance, once had a farmhouse on the highest spot of the hill. Someone planted yellow-and-purple irises, the white irises in back, the resurrection lilies, a line of cedar trees along the road next to the gate, and probably the mimosa tree by the mailbox. The old house burned down two decades or so ago, but the flowers and trees live on.
Some years, as I mentioned earlier, the daffodils don't even bloom. Some years we have lots of clover in the pasture, other years there is little. Living in suburbia for so many years, I never really saw the cycles of nature, how different things do or don't grow depending on rainfall, the date of winter's last freeze, and God's good grace.
Some years on Oak Hill the wildflowers are glorious; in other years, they don't bloom much. Young trees grow up and begin to produce. One year you'll have one milkweed or thistle plant on the hillside, and the next year you'll have a dozen. Trees fall down in violent windstorms. I am thankful to be able to watch and observe God's creation.