Months passed, and Luka’s life continued to blossom like the garden he had walked through with Maris. His carving of the vine, which now hung proudly in the village square, had become a symbol of hope and resilience for the villagers. Luka’s reputation as a skilled craftsman grew, and with it, so did his confidence. Yet, despite his progress, life had its own plans—a storm was brewing on the horizon.

One evening, as Luka sat in his workshop finishing a new commission, the sky turned an ominous grey. Dark clouds rolled in from the mountains, and a cold wind swept through the village. The villagers hurried to close windows and secure their homes as the storm approached. Luka watched the storm with unease, feeling a strange sense of foreboding.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. It was his mother, her face pale and worried.

“Luka, we need to go to the fields. The storm’s coming faster than we thought, and we haven’t secured the crops,” she said, her voice urgent.

Without hesitation, Luka grabbed his coat and followed her. The wind howled as they reached the family’s field, where crops of barley and vegetables swayed violently in the gusts. Luka’s father and sister were already there, struggling to tie down what they could before the rain began.

As they worked, the first drops of rain fell—light at first, then suddenly heavier, until it turned into a downpour. The wind whipped around them, and soon, it was hard to see anything beyond a few feet. Luka’s heart pounded as they battled the elements, trying to save what they could.

But the storm was relentless.

Suddenly, a crack of thunder split the air, and in the distance, Luka saw it—a massive tree, one of the oldest in the village, was uprooted by the force of the wind. It crashed down with a deafening thud, flattening part of their crop. Luka’s father shouted something, but the wind swallowed his words. All Luka could see was the destruction before him—the crops, their livelihood, their hard work—all being torn apart by the storm.

His mind raced back to Maris’ garden and the facts of life she had taught him. Growth and struggle—he knew this was part of it, but in that moment, the struggle felt overwhelming. How could they recover from this? How could they rebuild?

Hours later, the storm finally passed, leaving a trail of devastation in its wake. The family, soaked and exhausted, stood silently in the field, surveying the damage. The crops were ruined, the tree lay across half of their land, and the soil had turned to thick mud.

Luka’s father broke the silence. “We’ll have to start over,” he said, his voice heavy with fatigue. “We’ll plant again. But it’s going to take time.”

Luka’s mother placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “We’ve survived worse. We’ll make it through this, too.”

But Luka wasn’t so sure. The storm had shaken him in more ways than one. He had learned the facts of life, but he hadn’t expected them to hit so hard, so soon.

That night, Luka couldn’t sleep. His mind was restless, replaying the storm, the destruction, and the daunting task of starting over. He tossed and turned, feeling the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him.

In the early hours of the morning, unable to bear it any longer, Luka found himself heading to Maris’ cottage. The village was still quiet, the ground damp from the rain, and the air smelled of wet earth. When he reached the garden, he saw Maris already outside, tending to the plants as though nothing had happened.

“Maris,” Luka called, his voice strained. “The storm… it destroyed everything. Our crops, our land…”

Maris looked up from her work, her face calm, as though she had been expecting him. “Ah, Luka. You’ve come to see the garden after the storm.”

Luka’s shoulders sagged as he stepped into the garden. To his surprise, it looked untouched. The plants still stood tall, their leaves glistening with droplets of rain, and the vines climbed just as before.

“How…?” Luka began, his confusion evident.

Maris smiled. “The storm was harsh, yes. But this garden has faced many storms before, just as you have faced challenges. The garden survives not because it is immune to the storms, but because it is prepared for them.”

She led Luka to a patch of freshly sprouted seedlings. “Look here, Luka. These plants were only just beginning to grow, and yet they’ve weathered the storm. Do you know why?”

Luka shook his head.

“Because their roots are strong,” Maris said softly. “Just like the trees in the forest or the vines we tend. It’s the roots that allow them to bend without breaking. The same is true for us.”

Luka thought of his father’s words—we’ll have to start over. His heart ached at the thought of all they had lost, but Maris’ words began to seep into his mind like water nourishing dry soil.

“The storm took so much,” Luka said quietly. “How do we rebuild after something like this?”

Maris placed a hand on his arm. “Rebuilding is part of the cycle of life, Luka. Just as plants regrow after being pruned or after the harshest of winters, we, too, can regrow. You must tend to your roots—your family, your values, your dreams. Those are the things that will help you rebuild.”

Luka looked around the garden, seeing it in a new light. It wasn’t just a place of beauty—it was a place of resilience. The storm had come and gone, but the garden remained, growing stronger with each challenge.

“Remember, Luka,” Maris said as they walked back toward the entrance. “The facts of life aren’t just things to know—they are things to live by. The storm has passed, but your roots are still strong. You’ll grow again.”

Luka nodded, feeling the weight on his shoulders lift just a little. He didn’t know what the future held, but he knew now that they could rebuild. The storm had taken much, but it hadn’t taken everything.

As he left Maris’ garden, Luka felt a sense of calm settle over him. The storm may have uprooted part of his world, but like the garden, he would grow again—stronger, wiser, and ready for whatever the next season would bring.