Michael Robert Dyet's Blog, page 55

The Waxing Moon: Archangel of the Creation

Hmmm, is the moon the prosaic brother of the sibling rivals of the cosmos?

It is a sight to behold with reverence – that ghostly white orb holding court in a cloudless night sky. Hard to believe on such a night that the moon is 238,000 miles from earth. Then again, considering that its’ sister the sun is 91 million miles away, the moon is practically our next door neighbour in astrological terms.

Some might argue that the moon fades by comparison with its counterpart in the ying and yang of the day and night sky. How can it compete with sunrise splendour and sunset grandeur?

But I beg to differ. The sun’s bag of tricks is limited to rising and setting. The moon has a complex cycle of phases, as it circles the earth, which roughly correlates with one month. In simple terms, the moon transforms through four phases.

The new moon – not to be confused with the full moon – occurs when the moon is positioned between the earth and the sun. The illuminated portion of the moon at that time is on the back side which explains why a new moon is hazy and grayish.

The full moon occurs once again when the earth, sun and moon are in alignment. But it is on the opposite side of the earth now so that we see its entire sunlit face. Hence, the glowing white luminescence of the full moon.

In-between the full moon and the new moon, we see the first quarter moon or the third quarter moon. At these times, the moon is at a 90 degree angle with respect to the earth and the sun.

Moon phases break down further into crescent, gibbous, waxing and waning. Crescent refers to the phases when the moon is less than half illuminated. Gibbous refers to the phases when it is more than half illuminated. Waxing means growing in illumination and waning means decreasing in illumination.

So yes, the sun rises and sets in golden glory. But the monochromatic moon, waxing and waning in crescent or gibbous illumination, has much more claim to the poetic in my book.

There is, of course, the mythical association of the moon to odd or insane behaviour including the popular notion of werewolves howling at the moon. But madness has its own claim to poetic expression. The Roman goddess of the moon, Luna, rode her silver chariot across the dark sky each night, lending the moon its metaphorical association with lunacy.

And finally, there is the scientific principle of the moon’s effect on the tides. Gravitational pull keeps the ocean waters at equal levels as the earth spins on its axis. But the moon’s gravitational forces are mighty enough to disrupt this balance. The moon’s pull causes the waters to bulge and move resulting in the swings from high tide to low tide.

So I proclaim that the moon is truly the poetic ruler of the cosmos. If I have not won you over, consider the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson:

The man who has seen the rising moon break out of the clouds at midnight has been present like an archangel at the creation of light and the world. 

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of “Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel” – double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog .

~ Subscribe to “Michael’s Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm” at its’ internet home www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2 . Instructions for subscribing are provided in the “Subscribe to this Blog: How To” instructions page in the right sidebar. If you’re reading this post on another social networking site, come back regularly to my page for postings once a week.

Terrorism: Encounters with the Heart of Darkness

Hmmm, what is the appropriate reaction to terrorism when it invades our life?

Social media sites have been lit up like a Christmas since the news of the terrorist attacks in Paris and Lebanon reached us. The posts have ranged from shock to anger to righteous indignation to dismay – all understandable responses to the frightening events.

I always refrain from comment in the immediate aftermath of such news. During that time, I do not read or listen to the news reports in any detail. I do not want to know the grisly details or hear the plethora of experts analyze the matter from every conceivable angle. I need time to process what happened and wrestle with what it means.

It is worth pointing out that these incidents are unfortunately not unique. The media seized on these attacks because of the severity of them. But terrorist attacks are almost a daily occurrence now. A Wikipedia article I perused tallies 289 terrorist incidents in 2015.

I won’t pretend to understand all the forces at play or to have any special insights into the political, sociological or psychological factors. But here is what I do know.

Evil exists in the world. It is a living entity. Regardless of whether or not you believe in God (and by extension, in the concept of Satan), evil exists. It lurks in the shadows waiting for the opportunity to infect us.

Terrorism is not about religion. It clothes itself in religious hyperbole and hides behind a smokescreen of religious doctrine. But I repeat: It is not about religion. It is about radical ideology which dismisses all points of view, and all codes of conduct, but its own.

Terrorism feeds on the emotions it incites. Anger feeds it. Intolerance feeds it. Fear feeds it. I will not try to convince you not to feel these emotions. It is only human to do so in such times as these. We have to experience them in order to release them. But if we hold onto them too long, we feed the beast that made us experience them to begin with.

Acts of terrorism make us crave righteous revenge. But revenge is never righteous. It is part of the endless cycle of hatred and violence. Every act of revenge invites another act to mirror it. Revenge is a losing game.

I am not saying that we should simply turn the other cheek. We must seek retribution for acts of terrorism. But retribution does not partake of anger. It pauses to ask: What shape should justice take at this moment? What can we do to seek reparation without lowering ourselves to the level of those who harmed us?

Retribution may include a show of force including armed conflict – but only in measured amounts, and with careful regard for its effects on those we commission to carry it out.

Fire requires fuel, heat and oxygen to ignite. Take away one of the three and there is no fire. Intolerance is the fuel, anger is the heat and fear is the oxygen of the terrorist fire. If we deny terrorists any one of these, we take away their power.

Terrorists choose to live in the heart of darkness. But we do not have to join them there. We need to choose to live in the light.

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of “Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel” – double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog .

~ Subscribe to “Michael’s Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm” at its’ internet home www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2 . Instructions for subscribing are provided in the “Subscribe to this Blog: How To” instructions page in the right sidebar. If you’re reading this post on another social networking site, come back regularly to my page for postings once a week.

Six Years of Spinning Metaphors: Pausing to Wonder Why

Hmmm, is six years enough or should I soldier on spinning metaphors?

Six years ago, I launched this blog with the help of a tech savvy friend. At the time, the purpose was straightforward. I had just self-published my novel and needed a way to gain exposure for myself as a writer. But along the way, somewhat to my surprise, the novel faded into the background and Metaphors of Life Journal took on a life of its’ own.

Now, some 330+ posts and over 439,000 visitors later, in a reflective state of mind, I find myself pausing to contemplate: What has kept me churning out posts week after week? Some weeks it is extremely difficult to hit upon a topic worth writing about. So what (aside from a sight tendency to be obsessive-compulsive) has kept me going?

I look to the five top posts, by number of visitors, for an answer.

Perhaps prophetically, my very post – The E Principle – sits atop that list with 79,600 views.  Realizing that I had far more e-friends than face-to-face friends, I pondered what the e-volution of our world might mean. Would the e-gocentric personality come to be favoured by the principle of natural selection?

Number two, at 72,100 views, When I Grow Old and Wear the Bottom of My Trousers Rolled, endures as a top five post. Borrowing a line from T.S. Eliot’s The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock, I wondered what memories would be preserved as “Memory Time Capsules” in my faltering mind as my life wound down. I’ve done several sequels to that popular post.

Social Media: The 200-Tentacled Octopus, with 53,000 views, holds on at number three. In it, I wrestled with the question: Is social media a new paradigm in social relationships or the threshold where we lose ourselves in technology? Yes, another go at the e-Principle theme.

On Canada Day in 2012, I posed the question: Where would you find the longest coastline in the world, the largest amount of fresh water in the world and the longest bridge in the world? The answer, of course, is Canada. Canadian patriotism has kept Canada: The True North Strong and Free firmly in the number four position with 28,000 views.

It amuses me that Passport Photo: No Frowns, No Smiles, No Upside-down Crowns hangs in there at number five with over 22,000 views. It was a lighthearted post poking fun at the rigid specifications for photos on Canadian passports. I wonder if it got me on a CSIS watch list?

The answer to the question of why I keep going may be the sheer number of views of these top five posts. (Yes, I’m aware that as many as half of the views were likely search engine spiders.) It fascinates me that I am connecting with so many people whom I will never meet and, perhaps, making them pause just for a moment to think a bit deeper about life and the sum of its’ parts.

The driving force of my blog is looking at life through the lens of metaphor. It helps me find some much needed perspective on life’s mysteries. Hopefully it does the same for you as our world continues to e-volve in fascinating and sometimes perplexing ways.

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of “Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel” – double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog .

~ Subscribe to “Michael’s Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm” at its’ internet home www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2 . Instructions for subscribing are provided in the “Subscribe to this Blog: How To” instructions page in the right sidebar. If you’re reading this post on another social networking site, come back regularly to my page for postings once a week.

Scratching the Itch of Time: An Existential Feather in the Wind

Hmmm, what is the true nature of time and how can we make peace with it?

For something we cannot put our hands on and cannot actually gain or lose, we invest an inordinate amount of effort trying to tame time and bend it to our will. We have a love-hate relationship with it that seems to intensify the more it eludes us.

I did a bit of research to try and determine when the existential tug of war began. It turns out that the motivation for the calendar was actually quite practical. Farmers needed to know when to plant their crops. So ancient astronomers, in what is now the Middle Eastern country of Iraq, invented the calendar which followed the days that make up the lunar cycle.

Once the itch had been scratched, the desire for smaller and smaller increments of time took root. The earliest method of telling time, in Ancient Egypt, was the sundial. Around 1400 BC, the Egyptians invented a water clock. The hourglass came along around 150 BC. And finally, mechanical clocks arrived in the late 13th Century.

Suffice to say, measured time has been around for quite some time.

Philosophers have long wrestled with the mechanics of time. Several theories exist: 

Presentism, as the name suggests, is the belief neither the future nor the past exists.
Eternalism is the belief that things that are past and things that are yet to come exist eternally.
The Growing Past Theory holds that the past and the present are both real, but the future is not real because it is indeterminate or merely subjective.

Suffice to say, time is a mysterious thing that rather defies defining. Great writers have called upon metaphor to try and capture its elusive quality.

Nathaniel Hawthorne equates it to flight: Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind.

Charles Dickens dubs it the Great Spinner: She tried to discover what kind of woof Old Time, that greatest and longest established Spinner of all, would weave from the threads he had already spun into a woman. But his factory is a secret place, his work is noiseless, and his Hands are mutes.

Henry David Thoreau envisions it a stream: Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in. I drink at it; but while I drink I see the sandy bottom and detect how shallow it is. Its thin current slides away, but eternity remains.

Carl Sandburg names it…  the coin of your life. It is the only coin you have, and only you can determine how it will be spent. Be careful lest you let other people spend it for you.

I do not have the eloquence of these literary giants. But I’ll venture that time is the wind and we are the feather that rides upon it. In periods of torment, it drives us forward when we are not able to move ourselves. In periods of grief, it pauses and holds us aloft until our hearts find equilibrium. In periods of peace, it dances with us as we enter into harmony with it.

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of “Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel” – double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog .

~ Subscribe to “Michael’s Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm” at its’ internet home www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2 . Instructions for subscribing are provided in the “Subscribe to this Blog: How To” instructions page in the right sidebar. If you’re reading this post on another social networking site, come back regularly to my page for postings once a week.

iPhone No Fly Zone: Apple Took a Bite Out of Me

Hmmm, anyone want to buy a used iPhone, new SIM Card included, that can’t find the call zone?

About 18 months ago, I bought a smartphone. My main motivation was concern that I was falling too far behind the times. I didn’t want to be the only guy in the room without one.

I wish now I had kept the “dumb phone” that I reluctantly replaced. It was operating perfectly and probably still would be now if I had it. My iPhone, on the other hand, went into perpetual search mode this week – a mere six months after the one year warranty expired.

I had hopes – yes, delusional me – that it might be repairable. I went back to the Rogers store where I purchased it. Probably the SIM card, the twenty-something Rogers’s employee remarked. Great, I thought, a quick swap out and I am on my way. But no such luck.

When the quick fix did not work, she asked me: You didn’t drop it, did you?… Well, you got me. I wanted to see how high it would bounce. So I took it the top of the CN Tower and tossed it over the edge. It hit an old guy on the head before it landed. Poor bugger – his funeral is tomorrow. I have to send flowers.

No, I did not make that snappy retort. I exercised restraint while she handed my iPhone to another twenty-something who was equally unhelpful. They told me I would have to take my iPhone back to Apple. So I drove to the Apple store in Square One Mall in Mississauga. The place was a reassuring hive of activity. Surely here would be my salvation, I thought.

There was a disconcertingly boyish triage guy I had to speak to before getting to the Genius Bar. (It occurred to me that I had my first grey hair before he was even a twinkle in his parents’ eyes.) I explained my problem to him only to be told that there was no one there at the moment who could examine my phone. But he could make an appointment for me for next week.

Next week? A half dozen tech wizards present but the Genius Bar is still an iPhone no fly zone? Kind of like taking your car to the garage and being told: Sorry, the spark plug guy called in sick today. Can you come back next week?

Triage guy then proceeded to advise me that, since the SIM card had already been replaced, it was likely that the only thing that could be done was to erase everything and reset the phone. If that did not work, I would have to buy a new one. Ah yes, the classic idiot reboot. Nice to know that the Genius Bar techies are so exhaustively trained.

Truthfully, I am not surprised. The business model for tech companies like Apple is based on kicking out new versions in ever shorter cycles. They really have no incentive to make their products long lasting. If I were a conspiracy theorist, I might conjecture that they build a poison pill into each device to ensure it self-destructs in under two years.

By the way, all the other functions on my iPhone, most of which I do not need, still function perfectly. The only thing I can’t do is make a phone call. How ironic is that?

Ah, such a cruel metaphor. Apple took a bite out of me and there is not a damn thing I can do about it. They have wounded me to the core.

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of “Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel” – double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog .

~ Subscribe to “Michael’s Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm” at its’ internet home www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2 . Instructions for subscribing are provided in the “Subscribe to this Blog: How To” instructions page in the right sidebar. If you’re reading this post on another social networking site, come back regularly to my page for postings once a week.

The Canadian Federal Election: Buying the Fiddler a Boeing 747

Hmm, what was the cumulative price tag for the Canadian federal election?

The dust is just settling from the upheaval of the election which brought the Liberals back from the political hinterland. I voted in the advance polls. Hence, the TV election ads running in the last week were mute for me. I practically wore out the mute button (pardon the pun) on my remote silencing them.

But the frequency of the ads got me thinking about how much a federal election must cost. I did a bit of research and quickly started spinning my wheels in the complexity of the laws surrounding election spending. But here is what I learned.

The length of the campaign obviously affects the final figure. This particularly long campaign – 78 days versus the 37 day minimum requirement – jacked up the costs substantially.

The Conservatives seemed to have been planning for this back in 2014 when they passed the Fair Elections Act – fair, of course, being a very subjective term. The change allowed for more money to be spent on longer campaigns – somewhere in the neighbourhood of $685,000 per day for each day beyond the 37 day minimum.

(An aside: Reports I read indicated that the Conservatives had amassed a much bigger war chest of funds than the Liberals and the NDP. Hence, it was in their best interest to raise the spending ceiling.)

This strategic change meant that the political parties could collectively spend up to $53 million on the campaign compared to the $28 million originally planned. How does that chunk of change get divided up? This is where it gets complicated. I think I have pieced it together. But feel free to correct me if I am wrong.

The electoral expense reimbursement rule enables the parties to be reimbursed for 50 to 60% of the collective expenditure. The amount of reimbursement per party is based on the per vote subsidy rule. If a party gets 55% of the total votes, they get 55% of the per vote subsidy pie.

But back to the main topic. It seems the price tag for the election is $53 million. But wait. There is also the cost incurred by Elections Canada, the body that administers federal elections.

A 37-day campaign costs Elections Canada about $375 million. Let’s be conservative (oops, another pun) and estimate that the 78-day campaign increased the Elections Canada cost by 50% – bringing their total expense to $562 million.

Ergo, the true cost of the election is $615 million. But wait. Third party groups who want to get into the fray can spend $434,000 nationally from the time the election is called. Let’s assume ten third party groups had that much in their coffers. Ergo, the total price tag is a whopping $619 million.

An age old proverb, which comes in the form of a metaphor, asserts: They who dance must pay the fiddler. We danced for 78 days and paid $619 million for the privilege. I think I’m in the wrong profession. I need to learn to play the fiddle – metaphorically, of course.

Parting thought: The cost of a Boeing 747 passenger jet is $357 million. So it would have to been cheaper to offer Stephen Harper a Boeing 747 to get him to resign.  Hey, I’m just saying…

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of “Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel” – double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog .

 Subscribe to “Michael’s Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm” at its’ internet home www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2 . Instructions for subscribing are provided in the “Subscribe to this Blog: How To” instructions page in the right sidebar. If you’re reading this post on another social networking site, come back regularly to my page for postings once a week.

The Many Faces, Graces and Lingering Embraces of Autumn

Hmmm, how shall we give praise to an autumn that gives its all for our delight?

All the seasons have their charms. The first snow squall of winter with swirling and curling whitecap waves of snow… The bursting forth of spring when the trees go from bare to frothing green and a wildflower patch erupts in colour… The full bloom of summer unleashing abundant life in the fields, forests and marshes.

But autumn stands alone when it comes to the palette of colours in its repertoire and the lingering exhale of beauty in flora and fauna. A prolonged Indian summer this year, followed in short order by cold nights, has been the perfect recipe for autumn to outdo itself.

 The blush and hue of colours in the foliage has been nothing short of breathtaking. The rosy cheeks of sun-dappled, maize yellow maple leaves… the pastel red, yellow and green of nodding, serrated Sumac leaves… the red wine shimmer of Oak leaf clusters.

Even plants that are not blessed with colour are worthy of a lingering glance. The spiny barbs and curled tendrils of Common Teasel embroidered by afternoon sunlight… the soft white sprays and whirls of Milkweed gone to seed… the fossilized shadow of elm leaves against the ridged bark of a tree.

Most of the winged wonders have departed southward or gently expired. But Band-winged Meadowhawks still sun themselves on welcoming rocks… Clouded Sulphur butterflies still sashay through the air and linger on the greenery… Darner dragonflies should be weeks into their migration – but one Variable Darner stayed behind for reasons only Mother Nature knows.

The many faces, graces and lingering embraces of autumn have summoned all of their vigour this year to playout an awe-inspiring pageant for our delight. Each of them is a dazzling metaphor for the most flamboyant of the seasons and its proclivity to give all it has in the short time that nature affords it to hold court.

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of “Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel” – double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog .

~ Subscribe to “Michael’s Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm” at its’ internet home www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2 . Instructions for subscribing are provided in the “Subscribe to this Blog: How To” instructions page in the right sidebar. If you’re reading this post on another social networking site, come back regularly to my page for postings once a week.

Trudeau, Mulcair, Harper and Leroy Jethro Gibbs Rule 39

Hmmm, how much subterfuge can be shoehorned into one election postcard?

A 10” x 5” postcard was left in my mailbox this week by the local Conservative candidate in the federal election. It is not quite subliminal advertising, but not far off it either. The card is split into three rectangles depicting the party leaders. I can’t resist breaking it down to expose the tactics at work.

Let’s start with the photos. Trudeau and Mulcair are positioned on the left side of their respective rectangles while Harper occupies the right side of his. The implication: Trudeau and Mulcair are both on the left side of the political spectrum, making Harper the only option on the right side of the spectrum. Really? Last time I checked the Liberals occupied the middle ground.

Justin Trudeau’s photo (in monotone black and white) shows him with a microphone making a speech with his eyes cast dreamily upward. Beside him: the infamous “The budget will balance itself” quote on a torn scrap of paper.

Now jump to the top where “Justin” is in black but “Trudeau” is in faint grey. A red circle with “J” in the middle and beside it the catch phrase Just Not Ready. (J – Justin – Just Not Ready. My, how insidiously clever.) And in tiny, almost illegible print: Applying for Prime Minister.

In the middle, “The Liberal Plan” (as construed by the Tories) on a cheap piece of yellow, grade school, foolscap with the key words scrap, cancel and eliminate in red.

Translation: Justin Trudeau is a dreamer who can’t deliver on what he promises, isn’t worthy of the Trudeau name, is taking the Liberals to the left side of the political spectrum, will tear down Canada instead of build it up, and cannot be taken seriously as a candidate for Prime Minister.

Mulcair’s photo (in monotone black and white) depicts him with his trademark scowl and his glance cast sideways in what comes off as a shifty-eyed look. Beside him: the accusation Raising taxes is in the DNA of the NDP. At the top: Thomas J. Mulcair – Career Politician –  Applying for Prime Minister of Canada – “Can’t Afford!” written overtop of the NDP logo.

In the middle, “The NDP Plan” (as construed by the Tories) on a cheap peace of yellow, grade school, foolscap with the words higher, bigger, more and fewer underlined and the distinct brown stain of a coffee mug on it.

Translation: Mulcair is an uncaring, highbrow, career bureaucrat who can’t identify with the common man, can’t be trusted even with a cup of coffee and is preprogrammed to raise taxes and destroy the economy.

And finally, Harper’s photo – in colour and air-brushed to within an inch of its life – showing him smiling serenely and looking straight at the camera. Below his boyish photo: Proven Leadership for a Stronger Economy.

At the top in caps: Prime Minister – red maple leaf – Harper. In the middle, in Tory blue print on a pure white background, four glowing accomplishments of the governing Conservatives as construed by Tory spin doctors.

Translation: How can anyone not like this guy? Trustworthy, a proven commodity, as Canadian as maple syrup and the only one who can steer the Canadian economy through stormy waters. So iconic that he does not even need to use his first name anymore.

I shudder to think of the cost of the brain trust of advertising gurus and political consultants who convened to create this masterpiece of subterfuge. It is a damning metaphor for the psychological warfare that federal election advertising has become. And we wonder why voter turnout is so poor.

Parting shot: J for Justin and Thomas J. Mulcair. Happenstance? Leroy Jethro Gibbs Rule 39: There is no such thing as coincidence.

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of “Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel” – double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog .

~ Subscribe to “Michael’s Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm” at its’ internet home www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2 . Instructions for subscribing are provided in the “Subscribe to this Blog: How To” instructions page in the right sidebar. If you’re reading this post on another social networking site, come back regularly to my page for postings once a week.

Random Act of Metaphor: Beauty and the Beast in a Bull Thistle

Bull Thistle

Hmmm, is a flower a flower and a weed a weed, and never the twain shall meet?

As you know, if you follow my blog posts, I devote my spring to fall nature ramblings to pursuing winged wonders. I have tried to cultivate (pardon the pun) an interest in wildflowers. But, as much as I admire their beauty, they have not captured my fascination to the same degree.

However, now and then I come across one that piques my interest. The photo at the head of this post is of a Bull Thistle. (Yes, I have a Wildflower Field Guide although I seldom use it.)

We tend to think of thistles as weeds and a nuisance. But they are in fact wildflowers and, as this specimen demonstrates, quite striking in their own right. Thistles tend to grow in pastures, waste areas and on roadsides – making a home for itself where lesser plants could not survive.

What captures my eye with thistles is the contrast of the delicate, purple, clustered flower and the thorny, dagger-like leaves. The flower epitomizes pure, defenceless innocence while the prickly leaves personify battle-scarred and hard-won experience.

A Bull Thistle in full August bloom – a random act of metaphor for beauty and the beast. Opposites united in a child of nature that would be the lesser if either of the two were absent. Bringing a dash of colour and sophistication to forsaken ground where others dare not take root.

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of “Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel” – double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog .

~ Subscribe to “Michael’s Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm” at its’ internet home www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2 . Instructions for subscribing are provided in the “Subscribe to this Blog: How To” instructions page in the right sidebar. If you’re reading this post on another social networking site, come back regularly to my page for postings once a week.

Summer 2015 Retrospective: Grandeur Hidden in the Undergrowth

Hmmm, would you think me eccentric if you came upon me on bent over peering into the undergrowth of a wildflower meadow?

Autumn has arrived on the parting wings of the summer as September winds down. It is becoming a tradition of mine, as means of squeezing a last bit of joy out the season, to embark on a summer retrospective of the winged wonders I encountered.

This year I am choosing to focus on Skippers – a subset of butterflies which often go unnoticed. Skippers are typically quite small, always in motion and supremely difficult to identify.

Dreamy Duskywing

This nondescript skipper would not win a beauty contest. But it is a summer highlight because it is only the second Dreamy Duskywing I have ever found. Truthfully, I cannot be certain it is a Dreamy as Duskywings are notoriously difficult to distinguish from one another. But I am confident enough to make the call.

I was intrigued by the way this one perched so obligingly on the daisy-like flowers which are rather dreamy themselves with their pinwheel whirl of feathery white petals. A simple white flower, a deceptively complex brown skipper and a textured background of June greenery – nature’s elegant simplicity in fine form.

Arctic Skipper

Next up: the Arctic Skipper. Not the best photo of this classy skipper. But it is the best I could capture of a tiny winged marvel which measures all of a half inch in size.

This early season species is one of the more gaudily patterned Skippers – checkerboard orange and black on the top side and tan with creamy spots on the underside of the wing. A standout even when dwarfed by the broad leaves around it.

Tawny-edged Skipper

Staying with the half-inch sized skippers, I present the Tawny-edged Skipper – named for the orange leading edge of the forewing. There are a half dozen other Skippers that closely resemble the Tawny-edged which makes photographing it highly desirable.

I admired how this one perched on a Daisy as if to allow a sense of perspective of its size. Or perhaps it was taking advantage of the palette of snow white to show off its orange and black garb. A dash of purple in the background for extra contrast finishes the portrait.

Silver-spotted Skipper

Let’s conclude with one of the larger members of the Skippers – the striking Silver-Spotted which tapes out at two inches when its wings are spread full. It is distinguished by the bright silver-white spot on the hindwing and the yellow-orange band on the forewing. Easily the most photogenic of the Skippers which inhabit these parts.

Skippers remind me that nature’s elegance often comes bundled in the tiniest of packages. Each half-inch specimen is a metaphor for the grandeur that hides in the undergrowth. So call me eccentric if you will. It will not deter me from Skipper hunting in the wildflower meadows.

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of “Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel” – double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog .

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