Some blogs I follow have excellent photos of bees and butterflies visiting zinnias and other flowers. The pollinators where I live usually move too fast for me. (They seem to start each foraging trip with triple espressos.) I just admire the local zinnias and their visitors as I walk slowly past them, without taking photos. One day late in the 2026 zinnia season, my muse interrupted my walk when she whispered, “Pull your phone out.” I complied while replying, “No post without a poem.” She smirked and winked.
So far as I know, there is no species in the oak genus named after Henley’s famous poem. Maybe there should be one.
I took the photo described by the haiku with my phone right after mowing. That fruit was gone when I went out with my camera on the next day, but more were coming:
The color called “lilac” in CSS is a light purple, with equal amounts of red and blue. (The buds on this bush were a magenta, with a good deal more red than blue.) Eleven days later, this bush was almost done for the year. It looked like the flowers had indeed been lilac when fully open and were fading to lavender and then white.
Snow-laden branches,
sagging under cold wet weight.
But they will rebound.
Thriving on cold air,
icicles defy hot sun
(from a safe distance).
Leaves drop one by one,
each with a story to tell.
But can we listen?
