The medieval cathedral's Lady chapels were quiet havens for private prayer.

The moist woodland floor was dotted with elegant lady fern fronds that shimmered after the rain.

When the pizza lady arrived, she handed me the box with a cheerful nod.

A line of lady-flies crawled along the windowsill, their tiny spots shining in the sunlight.

The child gently cupped the lady-fly and watched its tiny spots gleam in the sun.

At the dimly lit bar, she ordered a White Lady — a refreshing gin sour made with triple sec and lime juice — to brighten her mood.

While hiking through the damp woods, I spotted a patch of lady's slippers tucked between ferns and had to kneel down to admire them.

After dinner, we played Black Lady until midnight, each of us trying to avoid taking the penalty queen of spades.

A single ragged lady stood out among the wildflowers.

The ancient Lady chapel at the east end of the cathedral was filled with candles and the soft murmur of prayers.