Hope

Last summer we weren't here. You know that. What you don't know is that we have the most amazing friends. Not once did we need to worry about our lawn. Not once. It was meticulously cared for, looked beautiful all year long and everyone involved refused to take credit for their hard work, choosing instead to say it was one of the other people who did the bulk it.

All blessings. We were so very grateful for their love, support and caring. We never concerned ourselves one bit with what was going on here. We knew everything was being well tended.

One thing was very well tended. Meticulously trimmed, to say the least! And, lest you think otherwise, I've got to tell you I'm smiling as I write this. Why? Because one tiny little rosebush was trimmed to within an inch of its life. Planted near a row of pines, it was definitely not large enough to attract attention--especially for someone who didn't know of its existence and who was riding a tractor when it, ah, met the diminuitive rosebush.

You got it. The bush was mowed all summer long.

I'm laughing now. Really. When I first discovered the sawed-off bush a couple of weeks ago, I shed a tear. I remember planting it with Vito and was just sad that it had met an untimely end.

But I'm not crying over the rose anymore. Know why? I'll show you. Take a peek at the photos below. Do you see what I see? That's right, the rosebush is growing. It's not dying, it's living! I am thrilled by its determination, tickled by the saga of its near-miss and eager to see more of the gorgeous orange-and-pink blooms I know it will make.

Hope. It just makes my day. It's what keeps me putting one foot in front of the other.

I'll keep you posted on the progress this rugged rose makes.

Anything new in your world? Please, tell. And have a peaceful day!