I don’t bloom with petals, but I’m green and grow just right. You’ll find me where it’s cool and damp. I unfurl my secrets, not with colour but in coils and spirals. What am I?

Whats round, but not always around. Its light sometimes is dark sometimes. Everyone wants to walk all over me. But only a lucky few have. What am I?

I reflect the world while holding only air. I travel briefly before dying with a touch.

So many of us and no two alike, together we blanket hills and fields What a wonderful time for a hike Don't forget your mittens!

I am the verb the garden depends on. A ritual repeated, never done. I am not the liquid, but the act itself. Put me before can and I name the tool I use.