Nature's Place

Moth To A Flame

She came attracted by the smell of fermenting fruit. Fruit surplus to my requirements, put to good use in the garden. Not unusual in Eden, the trouble free place natural a garden is.

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The skin of a pawpaw is tough, softened at the edge of collapse, as the fruit loses its firmness, radiating out from a point. So she can insert her 2 inch long proboscis deep inside, to the cool luscious heart of it.

For the nourishment that is her natural right, she may get giddy at first with delight, or flap with no intent, wings ablur. Going nowhere fast, not just outside, still and holding to the goodness inside.

She wasn’t giving up, this angel of night, attracted to the light of … well you know, the calling home. It’s the same light for us all, down into the blackness of night, inside.

Her matching colour and spots are no accident, everything fitting in a way the rational can’t divine. And the divine doesn’t surrender … in the end the rational must surrender to the divine.

Pawpaw staked in the garden for the little ones to party on, those about in the cold cold winter.

She was the first visitor, and came again nightly for a while, until her time was up.

Everything has it’s time, until its time is up.

Everything is right on time.

Or the timer is off.

© Mark BerkeryClick on those pictures for a closer lookand click again.



Emerald Winter

Inside jet black eyes, looking with a will … what doesn’t need repeating any more, negated by the way.

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Jewel wasp, wandering the power pole in search of something unseen, or nothing … energetically apprehended.

On the sunny side of the 2 foot wide pole and she didn’t mind my shadow over her as she cast about, and still.

A little beauty with big shiny black eyes, metallic blue body armour and perfect wings to carry her as needs be.

A little green for show or decoration, long stiff hairs to keep the smaller creatures at bay. Perfect in every way.

What could she be after, out under the sky on a bare wooden landscape that offers little in the way of shelter.

Material perhaps, or for where she laid her eggs, or another’s. A simpler nature. No self reflection to complicate.

Emerald or jewel wasp, exploring the power pole for I don’t know what. It was a job keeping up with her.

Winter time here in Oz but the sun still shines most days. Some days with towering white clouds above, drifting slowly.

The wind blowing in from the sea can be cold, but that’s relative. A little work in the garden soon alters the outlook.

It’s a pleasure all round, in the simple sense of things.

© Mark BerkeryClick on those pictures for a closer lookand click again.



A Winters Feast

They prefer red meat but a little honey on a cold winters day is manna to a green head ant.

Still moving fast despite the cold, built to survive Australia’s relative extremes of weather.

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Once they came they came en mass, each a job to do lapping up the bounty.

No infighting amongst their kind, just a gathering of like minds for a single purpose.

If you wait long enough at a strategic position some will align so everything’s in focus.

Focus is everything, if you don’t have it you don’t have the object of it. Inside or out.

Come to drink at the rivers of light golden honey. If only for a short while, before the sun goes down.

Getting expressive, but nothing like they do when on a piece of red meat. Each to their own.

And when the feast is over the nocturnal ant comes along for the remains of the day. … Every little place on this earth has an occupant to fit.

To wake a green head ant tap the roof of his nest, he’ll come running. And no matter what he finds he will only seek out the transgressor of the peace. Not unlike us people, whether the source is inside or out, we seek peace, even through war – I know, I know.

So when these ants came pouring out of the nest they didn’t take much notice of the honey trap I had left for them, but they could be seen registering it. Left to slow them down enough for a few shots. When all the flowers are gone and it’s too cold for most small creatures to come out it’s time to innovate.

At first the tactic seemed to fail, they darted about looking for any foe and then retreated to the nest when they didn’t find one. And god help any they would find, that sting … But the message had gone into the nest, ‘there’s free honey out there guys’.

And so, after the aggressive defence had died down they came back out to feast.

© Mark BerkeryClick on those pictures for a closer lookand click again.