Not every season asks us to plant.Some seasons ask us to trust the roots.To stand among trees whose fruit has not yet ripened, whose branches already know the direction of the sun.The mind walks the rows counting possibilities.The heart listens for what is already growing.And sometimes wisdom is neither staying nor leaving, but recognizing that the river turned long ago,and only now has reached your feet.May you have the courage to trust what you see, the patience to walk at its pace, and the grace to discover that what feels like an ending may simply be the first visible bend in a much longer road.