The Flower

On Oct. 10, 2018, Hurricane Michael’s 145 mph winds ripped through Roaring Creek Farm.
In the deep ravines, the wind toppled towering white oaks, magnolias and other decades-old hardwoods.
In the planted longleaf pines, trees snapped midway or hit the ground entirely. Others leaned at awkward angles, pushed by the wind.
Among the twisted wreckage, other trees stood tall and straight with no explanation of survival discernible to the human eye.
Not long after the historic storm cut its devastating path through Florida and Georgia, a young forester observed the damage at Roaring Creek Farm.
“Nature will heal herself,” he said.
Nature, chainsaw work and patience.
Ten months later, August brought searing temperatures, heat advisories and further evidence, just as Michael was, of climate change and the future.
On a 105-degree Saturday, in the tangled mess of broken pines, a plant with delicate white, bell-shaped flowers stood out.
How a single Easter lily took root and prospered there is a mystery.
A sign of hope? Of resurrection?
Nature will heal herself, but we must reverse our destructive ways for nature to have a chance.