I spotted this tiny piece of moss in my driveway, brought a bit of it inside, and drew it in its sporing stage. Almost invisible to the naked eye, the golden trumpet-like sporophytes are putting out spores while hurricane cleanup here still happens and the rerun of the national clown show begins.

Walking on a trail surrounded by trees felled by Helene, I spotted this tiny seed pod with its four seeds like black polished onyx lying in velvety declivities. The trees are slowly decomposing; the seeds are vibrating with energy sufficient to explode into new trees.

Fish on a trail fifteen feet away from the Swannanoa river bank , and trees down by the hundreds; but a little yellow gerber daisy blooming in one of last summer's pots.