After a few unseasonably warm days, the temperature dropped. The roses that had started to bloom were hit by a hard freeze. Flowers drooped, petals shriveled, and green leaves turned brown. For weeks I wondered if they would pull through.
If you saw my roses now, you would never know the trauma they experienced. They are absolutely gorgeous, the bushes full and the blossoms vibrant. When I look at the roses, I see more than just pretty sweet-smelling flowers. I see seasons of life.
Green leaves appear as the first indication of life. Soon, small buds make their entrance. When they begin to open, as if giving birth, life emerges. Each layer of petals folds back into its prime. All too quickly, they succumb to time and the blossoms fade. Rain, age, and wind causes them to release their velvety garments, leaving behind an empty hull as testimony to life that was once there.
For every flower that falls, it seems a new bud pushes forth from the deep-rooted stems. Even after the season has gone and the roses enter a stage of dormancy, there is hope that life will return.
Life always finds a way.
Can you find the baby Praying Mantis? 
