There was a little sun today but the flower picture is a few weeks old. I thought I’d put it in to brighten the page, if it needed it.
A trumpet. To herald the end of summer, it’s official. Today is the end of summer in Australia, or NSW at least. Now maybe the rain can stop?
The winter here is usually cool and sunny, so I am told. And it was so last winter, I was here. But the forecast is for more rain, it doesn’t matter.
There is a world of good to be acknowledged in all things, in all weather, hail, rain or shine.
Those flowers are a kind of Lilly I think. Even Solomon in all his splendour was not arrayed as one of them. (Mathew 6:28)
And it is so. Nature in her innocence is far more beautiful than anything Man can conjure.
To the unaided eye the ant looks a glossy black. When I get up close, as you can see, he is many hue’d and contoured. A fascinating creature, out alone on an unending journey, searching the passion flower leaves for his sustenance.
Stopping occasionally to inspect or taste the leaf at the top of the plant where I found him. A thousand miles from home. On he went. Without a thought for solitude or loneliness.
Unknown notions passed him by in his being of an ant. Ant is what ant does. Wanderer, adventurer, loner perhaps. Mandible ant. Business ant.
Man is not just top of the food chain. Man is the food chain. In all that man discovers in the world he discovers his own nature in another form.
Ant Man. Because I see it in me.
Another ant, smaller still. Wandering the byways of the tendrils of passion fruit highway. Braving the rain drenched walkways. Risking all in his everyday life. Brave little thing.
Brave, not as the hero or the saint, nor the king or the astronaut. Brave for being ant. My little ant. Ordinary ant. Ant ant.
Whistling down the corridors of passion plant on the trellis of mans making. About his business of who knows what?
Exploration? For food? A mate? A hive? Or somewhere in between the needs of ant? A moment of being that is not ant? Is it possible? Who knows, why not?
That the little things should be free?
To discover a world not bound by form, or known form. A world within a world beyond being, where no form may be. Ephemeral being.
In a droplet on a tendril of passion fruit world.