After the Flood
It just ended today, that’s monsoon season in Brisbane I suppose, heavy rain coming and going.
People get upset at things the way they are but there really is no need. When it rains it rains, when it shines it shines. And it will do that when we’re all gone, I assume, if there’s someone here to know. Things will change when they change, not before. So relax, because it may never be as you want, or fear. Now isn’t that nice, a way to go? :)
Nice and relaxed? Feet up or down and doing something you enjoy, even if it’s only feeling the sensation of being alive. That’s what it’s all about, after you exorcise the superhero, the one who would be special, with something special to do. There is nothing special but what you do, so everybody is special, or not.
Isn’t it nice just to be relaxed, no tension or pretense of being anything other than what you so obviously are, a body of sense. And if there is anything else to do it must present here not there, because I am not there, whoever ‘I’ am. It is here or it’s not, because I don’t know where there is. And I am finished with the other, superhero to the world.
I will never be what someone else was, what a fiction. True, fictions have been known to live, by conjuring with intent. But intent to what, the further undoing of the superhero in another form? What else but to aid the intelligence entombed in such offence.
For that the image has to be left out of it, or is it in, and that’s an exercise to start with, but you only feel mad for a few days, or is it weeks. It’s just like taking off those favourite boots that you’ve been wearing for the last year or so, it feels a little odd at first. Or putting on some new. :)
What do you think, I am mad? And do you think it matters what you think? Life is lived either way, then everything gets left behind. And yes, a sense of humour can hide your pain or keep you going. But you don’t give it up twice, or thrice.
Can you change what you are when what you are never changes, or always changes back to itself? Will the silent judgment of another make a difference? If an island were thought to be a mountain would it be that?
Or are you content to be an ordinary man or woman, maybe with something extraordinary to do for a while, maybe not. Grow old, get ill and die.
Shit happens.
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Or to throw off the cloak of mortality? Reach for the stars and the crown, touch the beauty and light. See the end to his suffering, touch the wings of his love in her flight?
As I once did, and never gave up on. Cloaks get heavy in the rain, reach shortens with age and with pain. Beauty and light always remain. But suffering the wings of his love in her flight?
Why not? Except, has someone turned it into a game?
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I called out once, or twice, or thrice. And saw no reply on the wall. Was it eyes a failing in the dim of twilight, or assumption blinding the truth and beauty of little mice.
No echo in the hall, at all. But if you would join me we may still have a ball. :)
And you would only have to tolerate my sense of humour, my …
… intolerance of the intolerable, and my judgment due thereof.
The hero is late, that’s fate. And who is that at the gate?
Late is only late, not fate, but judged no less in kind.
And now, indifferent to the source, I no longer mind.
I can still walk a while, or is it just a mile?
A little wait, dear mate. A smile?
Oh dear, dear dear, what fate.
I must go on a while.
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The garden is a quiet place, so fair. And when I can’t walk for long I do linger there.
It has many things it needs of me, or so it seems to me from here.
A little time alone, by the seat in the corner, with wasps that know no fear.
Around the corner a vision comes, to show a light from over there.
Will never know if it doesn’t show, the voice I may never hear.
A shining in the afternoon, a welcome, no need to swoon.
Or maybe now, just tell me how, how to find thy boon.
And, please, not just with the same old spoon.
How else can I say it but to the phasing moon.
A little time so soon, my love.
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So soon, before the cat gets the Dove. :)
In the early hours he prowls the ways around the house.
Looking, treading so carefully, not just quiet as a mouse.
But just in case, he once was bitten, as by a giant snake, or was it a grouse?
Djinn, the feline of the house.
Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture to enlarge in a new tab
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The Flood
Well, ‘a’ flood. It seems the great Australian drought is truly over. Two years of rain now and it doesn’t look like letting up. Last year I was flooded out of my downstairs home and this year I was prepared for it, or so I thought. I wasn’t.
I did what I thought was needed, according to what happened last year, but this year it just didn’t stop pouring and the rain overwhelmed my preparations and I am typing this in a rain soaked room. No matter, just a little inconvenient and tiring – cleaning up. But no electrical equipment, like cameras or computers, was damaged – so far.
When you live on the ground it’s as well to keep everything off it, and so I did. This is my cave after all, and I know my ground. Just got a little careless is all. :)
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I have been watching a bee that has made her nest in a piece of bamboo stuck in a flower pot by the front stairway. She feeds well on the plants I bought, with lovely small purple flowers that just keep burgeoning. I knew the rain was coming; forecasts here are usually accurate so we take heed when a storm is brewing.
There is a short log of soft wood that I had been meaning to drill for its use to the flying population of the garden and it got done in preparation for the storm. But instead of it being of any use to anything as a shelter it simply became a block to the force of the wind and rain so the bee is protected from the worst of it.
And it seems to be working. Every now and then we, I and the bee, meet at the bottom of the stairway as she is coming or going from her hidey hole and she doesn’t mind me at all. That’s a small pleasure to me, accepted by a bee, a wild thing that sees no danger in me, can’t say the same for the civilised things.
No mind to that though, civilised things are a bane to nature, just a process man – the race – is passing through. Nature will survive us; I have no doubt, in spite of, or because of my knowledge of self. We just aren’t as big and destructive as we would sometimes like to believe. Pussies of the universe really. :)
But not pussy cats, nothing so cute as new born nature, some of it anyway.
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The rain has surely been washing the place down. Anything not holding on high enough will have been drowned or washed away. But that’s not Armageddon, that’s nature, and what would we be without it. Stuck, as when nothing moves, that’s for sure.
Not stuck now, and I think I’ll go check up on the wild life in the nearby fields today. It’s perfect weather for finding the rare creatures that are usually hiding or just living out of sight.
What a wonderful nature we have. Indeed! All those God made things that come from this one God made thing – it’s just a word unless you emotionalise it, so don’t.
My great pleasure, in the absence of my great love …
This is the way for today.
Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture to enlarge in a new tab
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The Yellow Bucket
13 is a lot of pix for one post but she’s a beauty.
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It never really became famous but was mentioned in the last post – A Time For … – as the place I found the bee pictured there, and in light of what has happened since probably deserves a post called after it. Only this time it was the white basin. There’s the yellow bucket I keep filled with water for the recent Frangipani planting, and there’s the white basin, the idea for which came from the yellow bucket. That’s the connection, and now you know why it’s not called the white basin. If it matters to anyone.
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There is a palm tree in the garden, like no other palm tree around. But like all palm trees it drops its leaves, or branches, periodically. It also flowers periodically, and this one is flowering now for the first time in three years, that I know of. And it seems to produce nectar first thing in the morning, for only about an hour. For that hour the flowers are royally attended by a host of creatures, the bees I found in the yellow bucket – lots of them, and all sorts of other small creatures that are about and enjoy a little nectar for breakfast.
The upshot is some of these creatures fall into the water in the white basin, haven’t seen a bee in the yellow bucket since I put out the basin, curious that. Anyway, I’m not cruel, just wondering, what eats the nectar and falls from the flowers above the basin that would never otherwise be seen. So in the basin I leave things floating like life rafts that anything that falls in can hang onto until I come along and lift them out. And nothing has drowned yet, always holding on to something.
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Well, I have seen one of these Emerald Cuckoo Wasps before. It was asleep, here – Neon Blue Delight – But this one was wide awake and lively after being rescued from the water. I put it on a post of rounded wood and it went about its business of drying out, cleaning off and warming up.
While it did this I went about my business of taking pictures. It can be difficult when the creature is always moving but that gives opportunity for different shots, and I trust I got a few of this rare beauty.
A little beauty fell into my life, though I did arrange the basin for it to fall into. It came nonetheless.
There is no stopping what nature will be. And only a fool would try.
Does that make us a race of fools? Hmmm!
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When she was done I gave her a sup of honey, and when she was done with that – which was a long time later – I put her in the sunshine and she launched herself into the air and was gone.
Wonderfully colourful little thing.
Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture and click again to enlarge
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A Time For …
… bees again?
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There are Banana trees in the back yard that the Possum and Bats, Flying Foxes they are called, love to eat from when the fruit is ripe enough. I’m watchful to get a few myself this year, as last. The trouble with the trees though is they are big and one recent day I went out and noticed one of them had been cut down, the one that was about to fall on the neighbours shed, that I was going to cut down anyway. Well, a little something I didn’t have to do, no harm.
And I have had to cut down a few of them to keep them from becoming a nuisance, to the civilisation of back yards bordering onto each other, or falling on the clothes line, or the person below. One I cut down was about, what, 20ft tall? And it fell towards the Frangipani, one with lovely red flowers, and broke an extensive piece off it. So, not to waste or leave it for the passers by that took last years cuttings I planted it in the front garden. I’ve been doing a lot of work in the front garden, for the flowers and bugs and photos.
It’s not as if I haven’t done this before but such a large piece, about five feet tall and branched, I wasn’t sure it would work. I plant it in the ground, in a spot it fits, some might say ‘it likes’, and water it enough to keep it from drying out and losing its leaves. It seems to be working; at least it has new shoots and is showing no ill signs so far, maybe a little soft at the extremities.
What I do every day is fill a bucket with water and every now and then go and pour enough to drench the ground, a brown clay soil, and as I said it seems to be working and in about 10 or so years will provide shade in that corner from the setting sun.
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The thing is whenever I go to the bucket and look in I often find some creature that has fallen in the water and hasn’t found a way out yet. So I take care of that first, put a finger under the creature and bring it to the top of a branch and let it off to dry out on the Frangipani tip. Where it sits and grooms itself, wanders about, tastes the water, and sometimes falls back in the bucket below – that’s livin.
The other thing is most of what I find are bees, tiny bees that I have seen nowhere else but in the water bucket. Isn’t that an odd thing? They are less than 1cm long, 10mm, barely visible except for something to see them against. If it wasn’t for all that preceded it I would not know of these particular bees, the ones from the yellow water bucket.
How one thing always leads to another, everything has consequences. Some can be predicted, and some only generally so. But the wonder is in the not knowing. You can try and work it all out but what a mental waste, just wait and see.
You never know what nature is going to show up or where. But one thing’s for sure; you’ll see more of it if you are out in it.
Whatever ‘it’ is. Sense, nature, getting the hands dirty, seeing, smelling, doing whatever.
It’s a pleasure.
Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture and click again to enlarge
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Nature's Place 
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