215/366 - fuschia
Jean Hersey's lovely book, The Shape of Year, from the August chapter:
"It was a day swept clean. I looked out at the blue sky and watched the wind tossing the maples along the stone walls. After hanging up an immense washing, answering a pile of letters, and getting dinner in hand, I rewarded myself with a book and the hammock for the afternoon. I lay there reading, dozing, looking up through the maples and watching the wind blow their tops. The trees around the terrace fairly danced. In my dreamy state I saw them first as herds of buffalo galloping over the western plains, next as waves on the great outer beach at Cape Cod, rolling and breaking. Then they were like girls bent over drying their long hair with wind and sun streaming through it.
The leaves tossed wildly, and even the large trees bent in the wind while their roots held firm. Because they bend readily, they spring back unharmed. What a delicate balance lies in yielding, yet holding firmly rooted."