Town Deer

The smoke from the wildfires in the BC interior is still thick in the air way down here on Vancouver Island. I keep trying to get the redness of the sun to show but it doesn’t come out in the finished photo. I must be doing something wrong or maybe I need a filter to get the red colour to show. I tried taking a picture of a red geranium and it was bright red, but the sun? No dice.

That smoky day, I was driving along in downtown Comox and noticed a doe and her fawn at the edge of the golf course parking lot. I’m always a sucker for baby animals so I took this picture of the deer. I had mixed feelings about them being in town. It’s a modern day phenomenon that many deer now live in town, but they do have a hard time avoiding dogs, finding food, avoiding traffic, and even avoiding people who might do them harm (yes, they are out there too).

I didn’t notice until I uploaded this photo that the doe has a lump in front of her shoulder. It could be an injury from a pellet gun, or she may have been poked by a branch.  Any number of other mishaps may have befallen her. I think it will heal eventually, but in the meantime she will have to live with that discomfort.

Don’t stray too far, my little one,

I’m keeping watch for you.

Most people in this town are kind,

But some have mean streaks too.

 

Stay by my side and eat your greens,

They’re hard enough to find.

Most gardeners get annoyed with us,

But others do not mind.

 

Watch out for dogs who like to chase,

Be careful of the cars.

If neither of them injure us,

We’ll thank our lucky stars.

 

Look sweet and mild into the lens,

The lady sure can gawk.

But then she’ll put us on her blog, 

And folks will say we rock.

 

 

 

Lincoln the Delinquent

 

Linc! Lincoln! Where are you? … Folks, have you seen my baby?

 

Shh! Don’t move!

Lincoln, you little rascal. Is that you?

Uh-oh…. Busted!

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Heh-heh, I think I can outrun the old lady.

 

Searchin’ for my baby squirrel,

Lookin’ o’er de whole wide worl’.

Lincoln! Lincoln! Where are you?

See the trials you put me through.

Askin’ every dame and gent,

“Do y’all know where delinquent?”

Orchid Goes to Town

Another orchid is waking up. The first bud is squinting with one eye to have a look around. She’s not sure she wants to come out completely. It looks a bit gray out there. Where is summer?

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She waits a day or two and soon reinforcements come along. In the company of her sisters, she feels brave enough to face the world. But what faces they have!

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One of the things I love about orchids (besides their long blooming time) is that each type has such unique characteristics. It seems that the colours and designs are infinite. DSCN8532

 

What beetle with its bleeding feet

Has marked my orchid, once so neat?

Or maybe she’s not feeling well

And has the measles, I can’t tell.

I know! She’s going into town

To sport her polka-dotted gown.

Spiderman

I once lived in fear of the dragonfly.

The sound of its name would terrify.

If the back of my shirt were a landing place

At least I would not see the alien’s face.

They must come from somewhere in outer space

But how did they get those fine wings made of lace?

The colours are lovely, my eye wants to dwell

On the spacesuit that’s muted but shiny as well.

Its legs, like a model’s, are fine and quite lean

Perhaps I was wrong and it’s really not mean.

It’s just having fun as it climbs up the railing,

I pray that it’s strong and its grip is not failing.

Its wee little voice calls as loud as it can,

“Just look at me. Look! I am Spiderman.”

 

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Just call me Spiderman

Apoppyplexy

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The One True Poppy ?

I am the one true poppy

The one in Flanders’ fields.

Surrounded here by “wannabe”s

At last my patience yields.

I’m falling prey to apoppyplexy.

Helpless as I am,

Rooted in the ground like this

I’m truly in a jam.

But look at my frustration

The lesser poppies bloom

And I am forced to bear their smirks

While I am filled with gloom.

You see that Missy Paleface

Deceitful all in white?

And what about Pink Poodle?

Her hairdo is a fright.

The crackpots growing opium

Are gossiping again.

Do they not know their sticky juice

Is going to fry their brain?

The bugs may crawl upon my face

My pollen’s falling down,

But I’m the only real one here

And I should wear the crown.

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Pink Poodle

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Miss Paleface

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Crackpots

 

 

Iris, Misunderstood

Passionate Iris

Loves me so.

She flags me down,

And says, “Don’t go!

You look delicious,

If not nutritious.

One slurp is all I need.”

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Passionate Iris,

Silly goose

With her gaggle of girlfriends

On the loose.

“Not YOU, just WATER,” the irises shout,

And pant with their tongues hanging out.

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