Masked Bee
Click the pictures for the bigger – and better – version.
Twice this year these bees have presented. They are usually too shy for a shot but circumstances dictate. And then there’s luck, what nature, or what’s it called behind, will …
The one on my finger was rescued from the water, of which there are various locations in the garden. The other landed on top of one of the bee hotels and set to preening itself, out of the way of the passing populace, some of which are predators.
A small window on the life of one of my garden friends. A passing pleasure, watching nature’s delightful little robots.
I bet they age just like me and you.
© Mark Berkery ……. Click on those pictures for a closer look
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A Colourful Death …
Click on any picture for a bigger version in a new tab, they do look better.
Down the old haunts where nobody goes there is an old tree that nobody knows. It’s a dead tree, full of life that can’t be seen while searching with a wanting eye, or nose …
Then, when the gasping trying goes the still and quiet comes and one appears, to let the shooting begin. Carefully, no grasping, so as not to disturb the native ears.
Once begun, as shooting is under way and one has had enough and moves away, the other visitors to the tree present, one by one, for a picture, to represent.
And so it goes … While the shooter is busy seeing what’s there the visitors are busy with their own search, of what’s in the air and under the surface. I’m sure they have a care.
For what they find is no small thing, to them, danger or boon will cause them to sing, in their way. Have you ever heard a shield-bug cry out, or have a fling …
Well, they don’t remember the pain to compare so shout for joy they don’t. Except in pain they may cry, that none can avoid. The experience is true though, the same for I, or you.
The difference being they don’t interpret and start to think, to keep them from the brink, of suffering man who cannot help but sink.
But it’s not the end, just something along the way, until thinking no longer holds sway.
And that, my friend, is another story, for another day.
© Mark Berkery ……. Click on those pictures for a closer look
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Old Haunts …
After a few days rain dead things come to life. Deserts turn to flower. It’s a resurrection of sorts. Water does that, breaks the run, of baking heat and absent form.
Walking in the old places, still shooting above the waist, at first there was nothing to be seen. Where is all the life gone …
Stopping still long enough to examine an old leafless tree, still standing, nothing. Then she walked into view.
Over the horizon she came, and after some examination planted her egg, another burgeoning form.
Is there really such a thing as an old dead tree. Or is death always the ‘other’ side …
Where no imagination can go. Here and now.
© Mark Berkery ……. Click on those pictures for a closer look
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The Banquet
Mouldy rotten fruit is heaven to some. Like these long legged Weevils. It’s a tiny creature, to about 5/6mm long, and plentiful when there is some old fruit to feed on. They just show up and congregate, on the wing – FIFO.
Periodically I leave something out for those that enjoy it. A pear on the balcony railing – more suited to the ants and flies, or an orange spiked on a post in the garden and left to age in the elements. Way to bait some nature, bring it out from its dark corners.
That’s the way of old emotion sometimes, needing to be baited by circumstance in order for it to be exposed to be resolved – gotta know what to do with it too, if anything.
If, as with the Weevil, you take a high resolution picture of it, without allowing distraction by any other process of mind – blur – emotion will either tell you what to do about it, or fade away.
Seeing it, properly – by focussed attention, it’s not me … You can eat it once and for all.
© Mark Berkery ……. Click those pictures for a closer look
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Nature's Place 
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