There are four things I could be, An armless chair found at a bar, The growing stump of plant or tree, A sample from the Bristol Chart, Or finally, a decoy bird - would a pigeon be too absurd?

I have rings but never marry. I can stand for centuries without moving. Yet when someone mentions me first thing in the morning, they’re rarely talking about nature. What am I?

I have a jacket, but I wear it all year, I stand without moving, yet I reach far and near. I am covered in veins but I have no heart, I lose all my hair when the autumn days start. I have rings, but no jewels can be placed on my hand. What am I?

Ruby jacket, dotted bright, tiny freckles dressed in white. Picked in sunshine, loved by all, sweetest smile of summer’s call.

Beneath the trees where secrets sleep, I rise from earth, dark and deep. From decay I weave my woodland spell, Where fairy whispers softly dwell. A velvet crown upon the ground, A hidden jewel where roots are found. Neither plant nor beast What am I?