For the past two days, my heart has felt heavy, over the loss of all of our rose bushes, 12 of them to be precise.
They once brought me immense joy.
Even today, I almost didn't step outside.
But then something unexpected happened.
My neighbor stopped by with fresh vegetables from his garden. He invited me into his yard to admire his beautiful daisies. We chatted for a while, and somehow, that little act of kindness was enough to get me out the door.
So I stepped outside.
It was hot. It was humid. But somehow... it felt better.
As I wandered through my yard, I did something I hadn't done in a couple of days.
I looked up.
In the midst of the sadness over losing my roses, I had forgotten that nature never puts all of its beauty into one flower. I had forgotten that nature has a remarkable way of making room for new beauty, even while we're grieving what we've lost.
It's crepe myrtle season, and my trees are in full bloom—three different colors, each one putting on its own spectacular show.
Last night's rain had worked its magic too. My hibiscus greeted me with five brilliant red blooms, as if they had quietly appeared overnight just to remind me that life goes on.
Maybe that's one of nature's greatest lessons.
When one season ends, another begins.
When something beautiful is lost, something else quietly starts blooming.
The roses are gone, and I still miss them. I probably will for a long time. But today reminded me that grief doesn't blind nature to beauty—only us. Sometimes all it takes is stepping outside, looking up, and allowing ourselves to notice what is still blooming.
Today, the crepe myrtles, the hibiscus, the kindness of a neighbor, and a basket of homegrown vegetables reminded me that hope has a way of finding us—even when we aren't looking for it.
Sometimes healing doesn't arrive all at once.
Sometimes it begins with simply stepping outside.
Has nature, or the kindness of someone around you, ever lifted your spirits when you needed it most? I'd love to hear your story.
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