The solitary red rose in our front yard is the last flower remaining. Spring, summer, and fall were filled with riots of color, the scent of magnolia, and the air of hope and promise.

Barb has tended the yard with care and devotion, always envisioning what more can be done, what needs pruning, and what needs replanting. The gardens are living things, changing with the seasons. They are a technicolor kaleidoscope of ever-evolving beauty.

The unusually warm October kept the magnificent landscape in bloom far longer than we hoped. But October has ended, the Halloween dress-ups are gone, and November has come with a chill wind that has destroyed color, beauty, and hope. One lonely rose remains.

But if we can survive the coming winter, there will be a new spring next year, a chance for a new beginning. Barb will work hard on her garden. It may take a while, but I have faith—and I hope you do too—that joy, resilience, and wonder have not left us for good.