Except as noted, all images copyrighted by and should be attributed to E B Hawley.
I had become many eons ago a traveling literary gnome, inquisitive about places I had and had not visited,
walking the same paths of peoples from the past, through places once grand and still grand,
photographing images that now show me the places about which I still dream . . .

Saturday, September 8, 2012

Dashing After Bugs

   The passionflower vine continues to thrive in the small amounts of rain. Its three flowers yesterday caught my eye, and as I admired them, I noted something else thrived in the garden. Flitting from plant to plant, flower to flower, disappearing and reappearing from behind foliage, their colorful wings glimmering in pockets of sun underneath the great oak tree, dragonflies and butterflies landed and then took off. I ran for my camera. 
    MyMrMallory sat in a chair minding the coals in the old grill, preparing to cook our supper of grilled eggplant, glancing from fire to our garden as I dashed after a monarch (Danaus plexippus) butterfly. "He's behind you now," he would say, as I stood up from behind the lantana bushes, looking all around me for the butterfly. The insects provided me with fine exercise and a show for MyMrMallory before our meal.

Taken with a Nikon D3200 set on auto everything and a 55-300mm lens. 
Cropped during fearless and shameless post-processing with the dodge tool in the digital darkroom.

The monarch stood still enough for my camera to finally focus on it, rather than the surrounding foliage. 
Do hunter's with rifles have this much fun?

Here is the same butterfly sitting on a turk's cap leaf in the shade. 
No post-processing except for cropping. 

Elsewhere in the garden, more challenges:

A skimmer alighted on the buds of a turk's cap plant.

Skimmer lands on the dead stalk of a rose bush. 

Libellula pulchella males.


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Let Lovely Turn of Phrase Begin

JMHawley Gave Me a Kiss to Build a Dream On

Listen, will you? I think that . . . literature, poetry, music and love make the world go round . . . while mathematics explains things; I fill my life with them, then go walking in snowy woods.
Let us go then, you and I
like two etherized patients floating
through life, together feeling prufrockian.
DDB Jr. makes my world go 'round; during his absence, Pachelbel fills it up.
One summer I sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, then through the Gulf of Finland to reach Saint Petersburg; I pursued Joseph Brodsky in its alley ways. I dream of making that two summers.
I read “Biking to Electra;” found my way in a Jaguar car, and glanced at the flashing steel grasshoppers at sunset. I’ll follow K.O.P.’s footsteps after he followed N.Scott Momaday’s; find warmth and inspiration on a rainy mountain.
Throw chinese coins for the I Ching.
Save the whales, the spotted owl, the woman in toil.
Cast a fly for trout; my memories of fly fishing under the sunny blue Colorado sky remain; I yearn to build more . . . with more trophy Browns.
Listen for the swan’s calls on the Baltic Sea. Feel KKII's joy, his arms spread wide in Yazilikaya.
Good night, Jimmy Durante, where ever you are.