Where the bee sucks

Where the bee sucks, there suck I:
In a cowslip’s bell I lie;
There I couch when owls do cry.
On the bat’s back I do fly
After summer merrily.
Merrily, merrily shall I live now
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
Ariel's Song

I forget all about my lovely globe thistles in autumn, winter and in spring. But in summer, ah summer, they come into their own, with their spikey sage green leaves and their vibrant blue heads.

A haven for the honeybee