Sometimes, hurricanes give more than they take. Not always. Not often, even. Sometimes.

Years ago, Pickett sent this piece of paper to me in a card. I kept it on my refrigerator for years after that.  During the recreating of my home, after hurricane Florence, I kept it on a window in my kitchen, as a reminder. It still lives there, as proof.

I spent much of this afternoon moving oudoor plants inside, before tonight’s hard freeze.  Some will survive outside. Some will go dormant. And some will die. In choosing which to bring in, I realized I had a new option.  Well, it was new to me. I could clip or prune some of the plants I once considered annual or replaceable and see what a new season might offer them.

Those who know me well, know that four (of the many) things I am NOT are a baker; a singer; a knitter, nor a gardener.  So I researched, as best I could and did my best.

The repurposed-bleach-bottle-turned-succulent-planter Sheila made for my recreated home will hibernate this winter, next to the pruned Boston fern that Julie gave me. The spiderwort hanging basket Ann gave me will be ready and waiting  for new life from its clippings, that’ll winter inside. I’m even trying nurture a little coleus. What the heck.

Will it work? Who knows.  If any of you gardeners have tips, feel free to share!

The point isn’t just about becoming a better gardener. It’s more about becoming better at germinating the hope others planted for me.  The longer I live, the more I realize how priceless it is to simply have hope, faith, or whatever – for people, when they don’t have it themselves.  The friends I’ve mentioned in this post and COUNTLESS OTHERS had hope for me, when I didn’t. And I will be forever grateFULL.

A year ago, I couldn’t even imagine that on.this.evening I’d have healthy plants that needed tending, much less such a peaceful home in which to bring them. We all have seasons when we feel hope-less. So, if you’re in one of those seasons, please trust, I’ve got it for you, til yours has its own roots again.