Whether it was a passing deer, the bunny family that lives under the day lilies, or the big brown thing from under the porch, the culprit that ate my dahlias was thorough: every stem was cut down to the ground. I cussed a little and sighed, filled in some herbs to cover up the empty patch, and put my plans for late-season blooms aside.

Then a few weeks ago, I spied it. Busting through the verbena was a single surviving dahlia stem – scrawny, unexpected, and glorious.

Friends, even if we’ve forgotten our springtime dreams,

even if the deer and the bunnies and the big brown thing have dashed all our hopes,

we might yet be surprised.