Who taught those father leaves to protect their families? How, without ears or eyes, did they know a beating storm was coming? Ah, the love of God is written on every spire of grass, on every leaf and bud and flower. Look in a garden in early summer, when the universal rhubarb plants are sprouting. Every sturdy stalk comes up wrapped about a smaller stalk, like an older brother protecting a younger. Stand beside a roadside weed and look directly down on its tip. Note how its leaves fan out around the stem with a minimum of overlappage and a maximum of sunlight and air to each leaf.
When summer's heat silences the birds and browns the meadows, practically all trees and the delicate flowers have passed their blooming time, and their seeds either have already ripened and been shed, or are growing inside protective fruits. Thus, life is sheltered from destructive heat. The flowering plants of midsummer, except ones like the delicate jewelweed of damp spring banks and bogs, are of woody fiber with tough-textured flowers, able to endure heat and drought.
Through everything with which God deals runs the same law of love and life, and His love will encompass us if we but open our eyes and let our hearts expand.