In a few days, this green plant, front and to the left in this post, will become a mound of snowballs, and that is where its name comes from, we call it the snowball bush. In reality, it is a viburnum. Several years ago, a bug tried to kill it off. The bug affected and threatened viburnums across our area. Our snowball bush disappeared.
As time passed, the viburnum would reappear a little bit more each year: at first a branch with 5 snowballs on it and now this moment when I realize it needs containment or shaping or something. While not in its full glory, the snowball bush is almost back.
I think its a metaphor. As long as a little strand of something remains, as long as it is still rooted in the ground somewhere, it stands a chance of rebirth, regrowth. Kind of like love that is almost killed by neglect, but with a little nurturing it flourishes again, or tyranny which seems in one epoch to be wiped out and reemerges in another until it starts to hang heavy over everything.