This morning as I walked to my car I noticed that the thistle in our front yard had burst out with about eight blooms.
Days earlier I found myself wondering how I was going to take it down, its tall spike-filled stalk turning a mustard brown with the fading of summer. The remnants of its last bloom had been wisked away by the wind leaving only the white broken end of an empty stalk.
But today, after a weekend's worth of rain and wind the persistent plant had pushed out several purple tufted bulbs with two bumble bees clinging to its nectar.
Today I celebrate that little burst of life, the reminder that it will hold on through the winter to be reborn in the Spring. From the weakened stalk a beautiful punch of bright color broke through.
Even when you feel like you're not at your best, like you're failing at life, beauty and growth is still possible. You're not dead until you're dead... and even then, as with the thistle, the seeds of what you've created will spread and grow again.