Early June is the time of wild iris. Soon Town Cove will be bordered blue with iris. I cross my field on a path made by constant use of a neighbor's dog. I go down New Lane, new two centuries ago when Squire George closed the road between his house and barn, through woods where New Lane turns and goes to Pond View Farm. I stop at the gate. From this place I see the ocean, hear its rumbling, smell the ocean scent of it. Beyond, the Great Pond opens out a hand with fingers pointing landward, bordered blue with iris. Not many yet, but buds show promise, rolls of blue in tight green sheaths. Soon all the coves will be outlined in blue triangles of flowers, a misty shimmering border for the pond. My big sister liked to walk here with her dog, Spark, and me.