Not from sun, yet still I gleam, a quiet night’s reflected beam.

I peer through binoculars while I quietly hide. I sit in a forest hut, guide by my side. I'm searching for feathers from my little nook, writing down all my finds in my little notebook.

I can describe a plant, the movement of water, and the operation of a machine. Alternatively, I can describe time, reptition, or the condition of a thing. If you want to really make things complicated, I can be a consecutive idiom, if you can keep up the pace and maintain a continuous flow. You can even find me useful at sea!

my golden oil can be considered a sacrifice in a volcano, cultivated by the gods of olympus. What am I?

I'm armed from head to toe but never fight I thrive on thirst beneath the burning sky I bloom where beauty has no right The desert holds me, dare to try it?