These are the blooms of a New Zealand Flax Plant in the front yard about half through my walk. You could almost miss them on a bright sunny day, but at almost sunset everything looks more dramatic, more imposing. I grew up with flax plants in the yard. They have an irregular blooming pattern, which means they either do or do not bloom, and since lives are full, it’s difficult to remember when they did or did not bloom. I loved the long blades and large clumps, but I don’t remember anything quite so dramatic as these blooms. That’s not the moon, by the way, though it would be even more dramatic if it were, it’s a lens flair, and there’s also a bit of rainbow in the photograph — the sun pushing over the last bit of roof. I tried not to concern the neighbors, but I stood for the longest time looking at this before snapping the picture and moving on. I remembered lying in the grass as a young boy watching the tips of the flax leaves move in the afternoon breeze. Some things last forever.