Our foxgloves at the cottage are giving a beautiful show of nature's fashions this year. They are shining in their spotted cloaks suductively attracting any bumblebee that comes by. As you can see, it works very well. Perhaps this is best described by the words of Emily as she exclaims her feelings of the intoxication of nature's beauty in the following poem:
I taste a liquor never brewed,
From tankards scooped in pearl;
Not all the vats upon the Rhine
Yield such an alcohol!
Inebriate of air am I,
And debauchee of dew,
Reeling, through endless summer days,
From inns of molten blue.
When landlords turn the drunken bee
Out of the foxglove's door,
When butterflies renounce their drams,
I shall but drink the more!
Till seraphs swing their snowy hats,
And saints to windows run,
To see the little tippler
Leaning against the sun!
~~ Emily Dickinson ~~