Resurrection Thoughts | From my Garden …
The baby’s breath has gone brittle with the cold.
Summer upon summer, the airy pink shrub has flowered in my hostile mountain garden. It requires nothing of me and brings faithful perennial beauty. In winter, dormant roots hide. Skeletal brown stems tempt me to believe the plant is dead.
But, over time, so many seasons of proof have coagulated into a long-learned trust.
Beauty will return.
New Life can breathe again, even in the deadest of spaces.