" The tree in the last photo turned out to be a flower.
A swaying flower the size of a house (or perhaps the camera and artist were shrunk small) with lips at the end of her petals. Alice wasn't even sure what kind of flower it was; certainly nothing as easily identifiable as a rose or a jonquil. Even a rose or jonquil with eyes.
"Oh, I bet she can sing!" Alice cried. "

― Liz Braswell , Unbirthday