“I pull the curtain back, and there it is again: My Mulberry tree. It is bare, completely stripped. No leaves. No berries. Vulnerable. Still. And yet, beautiful. “
“I whisper to it, “Even though the cruel winter has stripped you bare, you are still a tree. This is who you are. No season, no storm, no frost can take that from you.” But for now, it waits.”
“And watching it, so do I. That bare Mulberry tree has become something deeply personal to me. It represents what I have come to call the Season of No’s, a chapter we all go through, where nothing seems to bloom.“
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