Nature's Place

Colour Me Wicked …

… colour me blue. An if dat don’ fit just colour me true. Cause if you don’t colour me I’ll have to colour you. Ooh, the ways of the world, and in colour too. ((:

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Colour, colour everywhere. Just reach out and touch it, smell it, feel it, taste it and see it – of course, awake to it. And have you got that other sense, inside, a certain sense of beauty, of colour.

What a wondrous form of life colour is.

The colours and structures of flowers are wonderful and sweet to the inner sense and though they are ‘known’ in the moment they don’t exist in isolation, they depend on insects for their  existence, mostly. And they are best shown in contrast to something … contrasting.

So when this bug showed up on one of my garden plants, in fact on a blade of grass in a hanging basket where I haven’t planted anything, sheltering from the wind and rain, I couldn’t help myself. I got the camera out and paraded her, it’s a her, from flower to flower to see where she was most at home and most beautiful.

Well, she loved the yellow, she couldn’t get enough of it, always reaching out for it when we were close enough but otherwise content to bask in the rays of coloured sense. A truly enlightening activity all round, delving into sense where there’s no place for ‘trouble’.

Then there was the white with a little yellow heart against the green. And she loved it too, obviously in communion with the different colours, just not in words, but sensewise – the wisdom of sense.

And when I brought her to the big yellow she was thoroughly uplifted, I’m sure I heard her laugh a laugh of  pure delight. Ha, ha, ha, loud, clear and uninhibited. I’m nearly sure. ((:

When we had enough of this playing she climbed off to tuck up under a leaf for the night, to sleep undisturbed.

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Delightfully colourfully I.

Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture and click again to enlarge

Dreams of Coloured Yew …

… and Me.

This little fella got lost one day, climbed onto my foot and, weary of the trek across the great waste of concrete asked for hospitality from a fellow traveller and for me to point the way, since I am so tall and can see so far, he said.

How could I refuse? I gave him some colour to play in before feeding and watering and sending on his way, out into the wilds of the garden where he promptly dug down below the grass and into the soil – built for digging, he was right at home and soon disappeared from sense. Or in sense. Hmmm!

Could be she.

Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture and click again to enlarge

Magical Mystical Beeuties

A recent native bee in the afternoon, a Leaf Cutter. They are dying off rapidly, numbers are way down from a month ago. Not inclined to intrude on them so much now, don’t want to affect their behaviour at the critical time of roosting at their favoured places with the predators about, Wasps and Dragonflies. Wonder if they will rebound, as nature does.

Of course, as sun shines, rain falls, grass grows. Of course.

That’s the fact, everything returns.

Behind is the wonder, the beauty, the inscrutable impulse of primordial intelligence to form as a bee. To amaze, entertain and remind of a wordless place that may be called home, or peace, inside.

Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture and click again to enlarge

Blades of Colour

… flitting about so fast and sudden they are barely visible. During the day, at this time of year, they are the fairies of the garden, only catching them at the corner of my eye. Before I can focus on one it is away in pursuit of whatever it chases around the green carpet of grass, lush after the summer rains.

Orange and steel blue darting about, I could almost wonder where and what and how. But the mystery remains, so obvious, ‘tis my own immemorial self. Have you ever looked inside and seen the primordial you? And know instinctively what it is and does.

The intelligent form in the darkness through which you rose from the knowledge of stone and wind and fire, made supple by the waters of the earth, the movement of the tides. As the forms and functions of nature. To see my self in a wasp, or colour, or …

Up through the jagged landscape of a time where nature crosses to human, inside. The endless cacophony of perpetual change. The maelstrom of being and becoming. See the red and grey grit of the ancient twilit self.

Have you seen the waterless deep of being beyond that? The dark light of a quiet star? Beyond heat and cold, up and down, inside and out.

Where there is nothing, left, to speak of.

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A flash of colour in the darkness is all it is sometimes, that moment of elevation, an opening of the veil. A little more clarity.

Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture and click again to enlarge

Dark Visitor …

… came to the computer one night, must have got in during the day. So I gave it a finger to climb on and took it outside and put it where it could fly away easily. It took its time exploring the piece of wood so I left it to it, not wanting to overplay my opportunities.

Always give a little back, eases the weight of acquisitive human nature.


Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture and click again to enlarge