Hummingbird Hawk Moth

This fascinating creature fed on the Phlox in the garden on a sunny afternoon, hovering at each blossom, moving on around the bed of flowers, not at all bothered by my close observation or my photography.

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In the photograph below its tongue can be seen curled up in front of its face.



Claire Austin: myrrh scent, repeat flowering, late afternoon sun.



Poets, writers, mythical tales have used the rose as symbol of many things – a single red rose, a white rose, peace, remembrance, love, blood, war, passion. I use Louis Macneice’s poem, ‘SNOW’ to accompany my photographs. I love the way he expands a simple and diverse image into a world of everything.


The room was suddenly rich and the great bay window was

Spawning snow and pink roses against it

Soundlessly collateral and incompatible:

World is suddener than we fancy it.


World is crazier and more of it than we think,

Incorrigibly plural. I peel and portion

A tangerine and spit the pips and feel

The drunkeness of things being various.


And the fire flames with a bubbling sound for world

Is more spiteful and gay than one supposes –

On the tongue on the eyes on the ears in the palms of your hands –

There is more than glass between the snow and the huge roses.

Louis Macneice1907 – 1963, Irish poet and playwright


                                                       IN CONTRAST . . .


William Blake: 1757 – 1827; Painter, Poet, Printmaker.

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