I’m back in the village and back to posting pictures of dead bugs. After all, when they’re this beautiful, how can I resist?
The bugs in the poem below aren’t dead. They are, however, as bright as jewels in the early morning sunshine.
Continue reading “iridescences”
Do not be deceived.
Continue reading “waspish”
As I said in “what’s been bugging me“, the local insects may be impressive, but most of them aren’t very colourful – at least not the ones who sit still long enough for me to take pictures. That’s what I like about flower photography: the subject doesn’t run away when you point a camera at it.
At the moment, though, there aren’t many blooms around to brighten the blog pages. It’s partly because of the heat – all the vivid wildflowers of a month or so ago have dried back to straw, and even in the garden the few plants that are in flower are mostly wilting and ragged.
But it’s the insects who are responsible for the chewed petals and holey leaves, so I’m in two minds when I see a bright bug to know if I want it to stay put for a photo or hop, crawl or fly away and leave my plants alone. 
The cats bring me gifts; they leave them outside the door: lizards, locusts, snakes, birds, eggs, embryos, feathers…
I’m never sure what I’ll find on the verandah in the morning. Never sure if it will be alive or dead, complete or dismembered.
So when I found this lovely creature the other morning, I assumed he was only in one piece because the cats had got bored and abandoned the game when he died of shock.
Naturally, I went to get the camera to take some close-ups… Continue reading “here be dragons”
This weekend I’ve posted photos and poetry about bugs, and I have been thinking about all the small creatures who visit us and who share our house and garden. 
don't confuse the narrator 