"And what would you say if I called you my Indian Paintbrush?"
"Why, I’d say that you were my Fairy Slipper."
"Then it only rests to be that you are my Yellow-Poplar (Liriodendron Tulipifera)…TulipTree."
"Well then, I suppose you’d be my Yucca Blossom."
"And you dear, are my Rhododendron."
(pictured: Flowers at my front stoop, blooming with the Full Moon. Every year they disappear and I think they’ve gone forever. They always come back.)