Rose hips of the Pasture Rose grow in tangled patches here and there on the pipelines, but where I sat today, facing the sun with my back to a line of pines, there was only this stubby little vine growing. The buds for next year (look closely!) were the same color as the hips. Forgot my binoculars and didn't recognize their song, so I couldn't identify the three birds who came to visit the trees nearby.
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