The house is quiet. I’m looking back at photos from two years ago, searching for images to accompany an article about garlic, when I come upon photos of the bittersweet vine that grows behind our house.
The red berries — each folded inside a pair of orange wings — are vibrant at this time of year. The vines, climbing at least twenty feet up a tree, are unmistakable against the grays and browns of a soggy November day.
We were outside just this morning, cutting some twisted vines to bring inside.
And now I see that we were outside almost exactly two years ago, also cutting a tangle of vines.
So much change in two years. And so much remains the same.