A dear friend gave me this French lilac in 1997, in memory of dear great-grandmother, Hulda, who died that year. I lovingly tended the little bush but for five years it ceased to bloom. In 2002, I dug up the lilac almost as an afterthought and brought her with us to the new house. I wondered if she would ever bloom. All these years later, on her own timetable, she is awash in gorgeous, fragrant blooms.
It seems a good metaphor for these times: Patience pays off.