Plagarizing Kilmer

I think that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a thistle.

A thistle whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

A thistle that looks at God all day,

And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A thistle that may in summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a thistle.

A Cold Weather Country

You tell a country that has cold winters. Electricity outlets in parking lots.

I heard a chicken call my name

Birch

I need a cabin in the woods far from civilization.

Pole Dancing Lesson

A mob of middle-aged women. A camera. A pole.

All inhibitions - gone.

As Seen From Australia

I was wondering how one of those down-under people would see our autumn tree.
(Click image to view larger)

Mischievous

But she is a sweet kid.

Getting Old

What struck me today was how much cars and trucks are like people.

When they are first brought home they are loved and doted upon. Every little speck of grime is washed and wiped. They are proudly displayed to every visitor. Every scratch is cried over. Stroked. Kissed.

We think that how the world looks upon them reflects upon us.

Eventually, as they get a little older, they begin to be treated with something approaching indifference. Now the little scratches and bangs are ignored. "That's nothing. Get over it."

Time passes.

They get even older. Wrinkled where they were once smooth. Leaking fluids. Over-heating. Difficult to get going on those cold mornings.

Then time for the scrap heap for that piece of crap.

Unloved.

Alone.

Taking One For the Team

The Ring and the Scarf

Red. I like red.

Dora the Explorer

Dora is spending her time in an area littered with used condoms. What kind of girl is she?

Vine Ripened

There comes a point in a tomatoes life that it is time to give up.

It seemed like a good idea

It was cold. The ground was damp. It still seemed like a good idea lo lie on my belly.

Fall Flower for a Friend

This shot is dedicated to the woman with the warmest heart on any continent. She is kind, generous, intelligent, sweet, thoughtful, sexy and so much more.

There. If you think it is you I am talking about, you are correct.

The Mulcher and the Lovers

I am dreading the thought but I am going to rip my little office apart and untangle and redo all the cords and USB cables and everything. Somehow what was so neat at one time has become a mess.

Or maybe I will just go out for a glass of Guinness and forget the whole thing.

Arboreally Erotic

The things one sees.

Bunny

There is no rabbit in this shot. "Then why did you call it bunny?!?!"

I shot another photo that did have a rabbit in it. We were out fora hike and my friend decided that the call of nature was bellowing so she stopped to answer the call. Something you should never do when there is a camera about.

I shot. There is a cute little bunny in the frame which I didn't see until it ran away. It is in the photo but I can't use it.

So look at this one instead.

Click on the photo to view it in a larger format. It looks better.

Dial M for Murder

This is a telephone that I used in a play that I directed a few years ago. Yes, Dial M.

I had the phone given to me when I was in England. It was given for the play. I packed that thing around in my backpack for 4 weeks. If you have ever hoisted one of those Bakelite phones you will know that they are very very heavy. Cell phones are much lighter.

Anyway, I am directing another play. Every play I have ever directed was my last.

This one really is.

The Naked Philosopher

I was walking along the mighty Fraser River when I saw a single and very lonely leaf float by. A few moments later - another. Then a whole mass of them. The first, the scout, was probably wondering if it was on a fool-hardy mission. Maybe the rest were still in the tree snickering and talking about the idiot leaf.

But it turns out that leaves are just like people. One dares to something new and there will soon be a whole list of others following the path forged by that lonely individual.

Slow

Photography can be a real contemplative pursuit. There is time to think about your life. Sometimes the thoughts are good. Sometimes the thoughts are . . . not so good. The thinking is the important thing.

Just take things slowly.

Home Invasion

This is a photo of someone's home. Or it was someone's home. Someone's bedroom. A disintegrated cardboard shack. The owner departed and never returned leaving possessions like this coat to moulder and grow mushrooms.

Of course I began to think about the future. How easy would it be to become like that person. A slight illness. A downturn in the economy and all my money evaporates.

I also thought that I could get rid of all my stuff and just move outdoors (in a warmer climate) and become voluntarily homeless. Just keep my Airmiles MasterCard to keep getting those points so that I can fly off to a new homeless whenever I desired.

Four o'clock

I am a creature of habit. It can get in the way of life. For instance, I like to do my blogs at about 4 p.m.. Right now it is nearly 5. Not good.

I Did Not Obey

I confess to crossing the barrier. The odd thing is that the reverse is absolutely the same. If I obeyed that side I would still be there.

Another Magic Ball Shot

This is a magician named William the Conjurer. He is very good except he has to remember to not do the Floating Magic Ball trick in front of his crotch.

An Inconvenient Time

I am having a good day.

Standing in the street shooting, I thought "This would be an inconvenient time to die."

Summer in my Mind

Fall is in the air but not in my mind.

Self-portrait with Magic Balls

It is true. The right one is bigger than the left. Or maybe it is just an illusion. Or an allusion.

Portrait of the Artist as a Dragonfly

I wasn't going to use this shot but I was looking at it and having a little fit thinking there is a problem with my camera. There is a spot in the top right corner. I enlarged that bit to have a look. Turns out it is a dragonfly.

Cobra Head

A few minutes before the bikers hit the road.

Time Out

The Annual Toy Run. This is the time when the murdering bike gang-members take time out of their busy schedule to join regular recreational motorbike riders and do a toy run donating Christmas toys purchsed with their hard earned money.

Hmmmm, I wonder if those murdering thugs read blogs.

Casting For Blossoms

He sat so still not wanting to spook the skittish flowers that he almost missed his mother calling "Lunch!"