Nature's Place

Out where the soil is dark and damp there grow cities for the little ones. You know, the little people, the fairy’s, the bugs ‘n’ things …

On cities called plants, some deliberately grown for the purpose, are housed in their way all the different kinds of creatures, and fed by flowers and other inhabitants in particular. All sorts of shapes, colours and sizes, and with their particular niche, fit the metropolis called the garden – not unlike people in that way.

I haven’t been tending it as much as usual, getting down and dusty with the magical ones, but haven’t been neglecting them either. Everything has its season; some plants can’t stand the condition of the soil – too much clay, or just don’t fit into the network for long and die off. And the creatures grow, come and go, and I move some around if they are decimating a particular area.

Yes, I interfere, that’s why it’s called a garden and not a forest or meadow – gardens are managed somewhat, though as little as possible in my case. Much because I don’t know anything about gardening, plus I prefer to see what arises from the earth given the best conditions I can provide – with water, rot, light and shade.

One unusual housing complex, an old log I drilled with the possibility of bees making nests in it as it hangs under the veranda, is now well on its way to being populated. There are Orange Tailed Leafcutter bees, one kind of mud working wasp, a big old long and thin Ichneumon Wasp looking to lay in some others nest – and another short and fat kind, a variety of other flying creatures, scavenging ants – and a long term resident Spider. A host of creatures making a home of the holes I drilled – moving too fast to get many shots of them yet.

One thing about the nature is you’ll never catch it ruminating on the past; it’s always in the present without the speed bump of self reflection to bring it grinding to the turgidity of emotional consideration – we endeavour.

Flying or standing still in its ever coloured coatings, shining brightly in the summer sun, there’s truth in that worn old beetle.

Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture to enlarge in a new tab – best in FireFox

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