Nature's Place

Oops!

An eight legged spider, as all spiders are. … The strangest thing … not that this young huntsman was out in the dead of winter, roaming a lifeless indoor wall.

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And not in a hurry anywhere either, pausing frequently so I could get a few shots, but definitely going ‘somewhere’, but nowhere in particular. And then I see it.

Oops! How on earth did this happen, who or what would ever go anywhere, or nowhere,  just to drop a leg? But it must have got caught up, and easier to let it go than fight for it.

And that’s what it did. But never mind, it will just grow a new one. If it can find enough to eat to survive long enough to grow it. … But no problem, just the fact of spider being.

© Mark BerkeryClick on those pictures for a closer lookand click again.

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Crucified Bug …

Shielded Bugs

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These small creatures are the gardens only winter residents, shielded as they are. Even so, they do come and go.

There isn’t enough food to keep them fed so they have to move on to what may be coming ripe somewhere else.

Nomads, following the road least travelled, harvesting what’s available and moving on to pastures new.

No certainty in their little lives, just what needs doing. No past or future to distract from now.

And no matter the situation, they never give up. That’s not nature’s way.

© Mark BerkeryClick on those pictures for a closer lookand click again.

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Time’s Up …

That’s life …

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No sentiment in nature.

… and death.

The pawpaw are too long on the tree to ripen properly so they go to the creatures of the garden, placed in strategic spots.

As time passes and the elements get to the fruit they begin to rot and ferment, at a rate relative to exposure.

Don’t want them all ripening at the same time, isn’t good for anyone, me or them.

And so I caught some revellers, blowing alcoholic bubbles, and falling about the place.

A honey bee must have gotten drunk and fallen into the liquid centre ringed with mold.

She didn’t make it back to the hive with her packet of pollen but made her contribution.

To the whole, for the greater good. Every little bit serves.

© Mark BerkeryClick on those pictures for a closer lookand click again.

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Clarity …

… for peace of mind.

Walking on water, or is it thin ice … either way it’s a balancing act by a consummate hunter.

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I will be hosting a Meetup – Nature Meditation, Clarity for Peace of Mind

Click on the link above and it will take you to the listing, for the rundown on what it’s about. If you are local to SE Brisbane (or not) and interested let me know or just show up. All are welcome.

For now, it will happen every Wednesday at 10.30am at Brisbane Koala Bushland, and we’ll see how it goes. But check first, before turning up.

Other dates, days, times and locations are being considered and suggestions by interested parties are welcome.

My email address is in the contact page above right, or click this sentence.

© Mark BerkeryClick on those pictures for a closer lookand click again.

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Moth To A Flame

She came attracted by the smell of fermenting fruit. Fruit surplus to my requirements, put to good use in the garden. Not unusual in Eden, the trouble free place natural a garden is.

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The skin of a pawpaw is tough, softened at the edge of collapse, as the fruit loses its firmness, radiating out from a point. So she can insert her 2 inch long proboscis deep inside, to the cool luscious heart of it.

For the nourishment that is her natural right, she may get giddy at first with delight, or flap with no intent, wings ablur. Going nowhere fast, not just outside, still and holding to the goodness inside.

She wasn’t giving up, this angel of night, attracted to the light of … well you know, the calling home. It’s the same light for us all, down into the blackness of night, inside.

Her matching colour and spots are no accident, everything fitting in a way the rational can’t divine. And the divine doesn’t surrender … in the end the rational must surrender to the divine.

Pawpaw staked in the garden for the little ones to party on, those about in the cold cold winter.

She was the first visitor, and came again nightly for a while, until her time was up.

Everything has it’s time, until its time is up.

Everything is right on time.

Or the timer is off.

© Mark BerkeryClick on those pictures for a closer lookand click again.

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Emerald Winter

Inside jet black eyes, looking with a will … what doesn’t need repeating any more, negated by the way.

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Jewel wasp, wandering the power pole in search of something unseen, or nothing … energetically apprehended.

On the sunny side of the 2 foot wide pole and she didn’t mind my shadow over her as she cast about, and still.

A little beauty with big shiny black eyes, metallic blue body armour and perfect wings to carry her as needs be.

A little green for show or decoration, long stiff hairs to keep the smaller creatures at bay. Perfect in every way.

What could she be after, out under the sky on a bare wooden landscape that offers little in the way of shelter.

Material perhaps, or for where she laid her eggs, or another’s. A simpler nature. No self reflection to complicate.

Emerald or jewel wasp, exploring the power pole for I don’t know what. It was a job keeping up with her.

Winter time here in Oz but the sun still shines most days. Some days with towering white clouds above, drifting slowly.

The wind blowing in from the sea can be cold, but that’s relative. A little work in the garden soon alters the outlook.

It’s a pleasure all round, in the simple sense of things.

© Mark BerkeryClick on those pictures for a closer lookand click again.

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A Winters Feast

They prefer red meat but a little honey on a cold winters day is manna to a green head ant.

Still moving fast despite the cold, built to survive Australia’s relative extremes of weather.

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Once they came they came en mass, each a job to do lapping up the bounty.

No infighting amongst their kind, just a gathering of like minds for a single purpose.

If you wait long enough at a strategic position some will align so everything’s in focus.

Focus is everything, if you don’t have it you don’t have the object of it. Inside or out.

Come to drink at the rivers of light golden honey. If only for a short while, before the sun goes down.

Getting expressive, but nothing like they do when on a piece of red meat. Each to their own.

And when the feast is over the nocturnal ant comes along for the remains of the day. … Every little place on this earth has an occupant to fit.

To wake a green head ant tap the roof of his nest, he’ll come running. And no matter what he finds he will only seek out the transgressor of the peace. Not unlike us people, whether the source is inside or out, we seek peace, even through war – I know, I know.

So when these ants came pouring out of the nest they didn’t take much notice of the honey trap I had left for them, but they could be seen registering it. Left to slow them down enough for a few shots. When all the flowers are gone and it’s too cold for most small creatures to come out it’s time to innovate.

At first the tactic seemed to fail, they darted about looking for any foe and then retreated to the nest when they didn’t find one. And god help any they would find, that sting … But the message had gone into the nest, ‘there’s free honey out there guys’.

And so, after the aggressive defence had died down they came back out to feast.

© Mark BerkeryClick on those pictures for a closer lookand click again.

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Dandelion Life

You can see a dandelion, fruit of the earth, in sense.

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You can try smell it but it’ll probably get up your nose.

You can blow on it and seeds will take off into the air.

That’s sense of earth, with not a single thought in it.

The plant rises from the seed.

The flower from the plant.

The seed from the flower.

The wind takes the seed.

The seed goes to earth.

In rain and shine.

Light and dark.

All is fine.

In sense.

© Mark BerkeryClick on those pictures for a closer lookand click again.

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