Making my way back across the driveway from the drippy trees, I saw a fly on our pinky-winky hydrangea. And yes, it’s embarrassing to have a plant with such a silly name in my front yard. I mean, as August’s white flowers shade into September’s deep pink, people stop and ask what it is.
Now, for my money, a fly is not an inherently worthy photographic subject in the same way that a grasshopper or a dragonfly is, but love the one you’re near, right?
And so, even though I don’t much appreciate flies in the usual way of things, I already had my camera in my hand so I took a what-the-heck shot, hoping to capture its colours and little hairy legs in the sure-to-be-transient sunlight.
But when I cropped the shot, I noticed something else. The spots of reflection cooperated to make an impressive replica of a tribal mask or a demonic/monster face. I wonder if the fly knows that someone scary has his back.
I’m impressed by the fly. I would certainly have missed the face. But I’m envious of your hydrangea. I’ve planted three. All died. On the other hand, the poinsettia I moved outdoors after last winter is still doing fine. And indoors, all four cyclamen (cyclamens? Does “men” already make it plural? Is a single plant a cyclaman?) are masses of blossom.
Jim T
Jim – I’d never grown hydrangeas before moving to Ottawa – not sure they’re hardy in Alberta. And the plural is cyclamen or cyclamens. I suspect the former is for those who react as you do to the “men” ending, hearing “mens” as just wrong. The origins have nothing to do with man or men according to Oxford: modern Latin, from Latin cyclaminos, from Greek kuklaminos, perhaps from kuklos ‘circle’, with reference to its bulbous roots.
I am almost shamed into guilt that a flyswatter is close to hand. I wonder if predators of the fly see what you see? The concept of fur patches that give the possessor an impression of much greater size and ferocity is familiar. I will be alert, now, as to whether aerial views and side perspectives can have similar protective effects.
Laurna – 🙂 It’s tough enough to see other people as being just like us. To renounce the fly swatter would be beyond me, even though I can sometimes summon the interest to really look.
Pingback: The Bug Days of Summer | Traditional Iconoclast