The sun had already slipped below
the lake’s edge as I walked the road, unable to hear birdcalls and waves but intent
on visually spotting small things in waning light. Crook-necked swans. Lily pads. Dandelion fluff-balls.
Pebbles. A tiny weed-flower rising from among tall grasses: fragile beauty,
candid and pure, like a glowing mini-sun framed in elegant, lacy rays.
Flowers have an expression of countenance as much as men or
animals. Some seem to smile; some have a sad expression; some are pensive and
diffident; others again are plain, honest and upright, like the broad-faced
sunflower and the hollyhock.
~Henry Ward Beecher
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