I'm dating myself here: Whenever I take photos of prairie coneflowers (Ratibida pinnata), Elton John's song Tiny Dancer plays in my head. It's because these flowers start dancing in the slightest breeze.
The chorus goes like this:
Ballerina, you must have seen her dancing in the sandLooked it up on Wikipedia: the song is from the album Madman Across the Water, released in 1971.
And now she's in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand
Good lord, that's almost 40 years ago! No wonder the young man who cashed me out at the grocery store today, kept calling me "Ma'am." He must have Ma'am'ed me half a dozen times in five minutes. He said it so often that I actually suggested that he not call woman my age (early 50s) "Ma'am" because it makes us feel old. That prompted a knowing smile from a gal my age over in the next aisle. She knew exactly what I was going on about.
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