The tree is very small, and the only blooming flower was knocked down in a heavy rain, but the green leaves symbolizing vitality did not waver at all.

"Pomegranates will not bear fruit," said Mom, shaking her head. I'm a little disappointed: does pomegranate really not bear fruit?

A breeze blew, and the pomegranate gently swayed its graceful posture. A bird flitted across the treetops with its feet on tiptoe. Obviously, it can't stop and flap its wings and fly away ... I'm a little at a loss.

One rain after another in summer is getting bigger and bigger. The buttonwood tree outside the window is half broken and its branches are hanging on the telephone pole! I can't bear to see the misery of the little pomegranate, but I can't help it.

It's broken, and it's really broken There is hardly a complete leaf on the small trunk, and the branches are scattered all over the floor. I'm really sorry.

I don't look at pomegranate trees anymore. This little pomegranate is probably hopeless!

Winter passed and spring came. The phoenix tree that was folded last year has grown lush leaves at the wound. Should pomegranate be resurrected?

With hope and fear, I quietly looked at the pomegranate-ah, the pomegranate is alive, alive and well, and has opened several red flowers!

Summer rainstorm, poor little pomegranate, flowers floating again, branches broken again! But I am no longer discouraged, because I know that the little pomegranate will eventually survive and grow up. I have enough patience to wait for the glorious moment when pomegranate really blooms and bears fruit! Waiting for the rainbow after the storm!