I suppose part of the allure of these floriferous outings is that there is no telling what you will find or what may happen.
I hear that on one field trip with a class full of students, the human female somehow lost her balance and fell into a large patch of cockleburrs. Now, I can bestride the stars and move between realms, but I cannot yet travel through time. The minute I DO achieve time travel, I am going straight back to that moment. I cannot be the only person who would pay money to witness that event. I will charge admission to view her humiliation and become exceedingly wealthy. (Now that I think about it, I am certain I WILL invent time travel and go back to that momentous field trip, because I have a suspicion as to how she came to tumble in the first place…)
Speaking of accidents, be careful, mortals! Watch where you tread, you clumsy oafs*! Do you not see this oologous treasure?
Is there someone here who can tell us what manner of bird misplaced its offspring? No? Then I shall declare myself the Ornithologist du Jour and proclaim that this is the egg of the Lesser Spangle-breasted Wood Nordler.
If I am wrong, prove it.
This is also a bit unexpected, but not really a surprise:
Sigyn and I have encountered this excruciatingly orange fungus before. The more I study fungi, the more intrigued I am by their chitinous omnipresence.
Oh, now this passionflower is a little jewel of a plant, very easy to overlook but exquisite in its delicate detail. Sigyn likes its intricate blossoms and its history in folklore.
I like its springy, whip-like tendrils. I also like the way Sigyn’s hair shines in the sun. Whatever shampoo you are using, dearest, it is really working for you.