this is Puppet Lady with the dripping ink fresh off yesterday’s flower. when day old flowers shut down they drip. and that drip is like an ink the color of the spent flower. and what ever sits below that flower well it bares the evidence of that ink. it comes with the territory…
a north east ohio garden 
Regarding the ink. Have to feel sorry for the dearly departed.
That train leaves every night during bloom season. Sometimes it is the ink. Sometimes the departed flower collapses on the bloom next to it and prevents the new bloom from opening. Let us pour and reflect…
The power of life over death or some reflection like that.
I kinda stopped at the three finger reflection point…
It is important to let the power of the reflection build and build…
That adds an interesting bit of color.