I follow rain but not the storm, from muddy ground I take my form. When the spring rains weep, I soon appear, a burst of colour drawing near.

I rise from earth, but not too high, beneath the ever-open sky. Smaller than giants capped with snow, yet still a place where climbers go.

I am many things, but never the same. I fall from the sky and be eaten any time of day. Also, I am a unique five-sided work of art, and always late. What am I????

Fuzzy on the outside, Juicy within, If you hate me with skin, You can eat me from a tin.

I stand in rows but never march, I wear green crowns in every arch. In spring I bloom, fauna I feed, a quiet kingdom grown from seed. People wander through my land, plucking my treasure by the hand.