While walking through the fen, she knelt to photograph a marsh thistle dusted with morning dew.

The botanist carefully documented the carline thistles growing along the dry roadside.

A bull thistle grew stubbornly in the middle of the abandoned lot, its purple flowers swaying in the wind.

The meadow was unexpectedly beautiful, dotted with plumed thistles that swayed in the breeze.

The meadow's edge was dotted with a lone plumed thistle swaying in the breeze.

Follow me thisaway if you want to see the secret garden.

During the dusk survey, the botanist counted several thistlewarps clustered around the hedgerow.

Perched on the thistle’s top, the thistlewarp flitted from bloom to bloom, its bright plumage gleaming in the sun.

The thistly hedgerow scratched the sleeves of anyone who tried to pass.

When I couldn't see a way forward, my grandmother reminded me, 'this too shall pass,' and her words gave me hope.