I just discovered a petunia blooming at the corner of our new garage.
When i think of the trees that were felled in April, the excavation, earth-moving, concrete pouring, and backfilling of June, the back-and-forth tromping of carpenters to build the frame in June, the painting of the siding (and paint spills by yours truly) of July, the baking of the August sun, and the still-unfinished final grading of September--amidst all this devastation, a flower blooms.
The ground is a desert of gravel, rocky subsoil, and cement-truck runoff for a radius of 15 feet, and a flower blooms there.
When we are devastated, when the loss is deep and great, or when we feel a desert has encroached upon our heart and we have been desertified, even then, a flower can bloom.
The Dharma is the soil; daily meditation is the sunshine that lightens up the bleekness; meditating once a week with a friend provides the rain for a flower to bloom in your heart.
And this shocking-pink petunia perfectly matches the trim on the new garage :)