Nature's Place

Anty

G’day mate. Howzit going down there?

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Not bad mate, just gettin started on the day.

Whatcha lookin for down there mate?

Ah mate, just stretchin the creases outta me back after a cold night on the leaves.

Well, looking good there mate. Keep it up, eh.

Tryin mate, but someone keeps movin the bloody leaves on me.

Oops, sorry mate. Here ya go, some pollen for breakfast. … Yummm!

It’s first thing in the morning and this little creature was caught out on a cold night while patrolling the orange calendula flowers.

It took a while for him to wake up as the sunlight through the trees spurred him along to get with his morning ablutions.

Before anything that could eat him came along. Not that he would know this in any knowing sort of way, besides instinctively.

How lucky it seems these little creatures are. Not a care in the world, no worries or anxious expectations. No problems.

And all because they don’t think like we do, about themselves. So are free of that burden, or we could call it a baton.

As in a relay race, the human race, a race against time it seems. To flower into a race beyond self reflection, perhaps.

Right on time though, nothing out of place, everything serving the transition.

Pain making sane once more, sort of.

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

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Wasp

A flower wasp I think. Taking a break from the ordinary pace of surviving in the garden.

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It’s necessary to look at something from different angles to get some perspective.

Experience does that, and changes the experiencer, if only a little at a time.

And, eventually, the scales must tip and nothing is the same again. Life does that, eventually.

For this little creature what it’s all about is being wasp, no self reflection to interfere or confuse that simple state of being.

For this writer what it’s all about is realising that original state of being, before (and after) self reflection.

And the way to do it is simple, after all is said and done (the need for experience), stop reflecting self.

By reflecting something else, or nothing at all. There is a way.

Not easy … but simple.

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

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Times Passed

Wolf spider, sitting exposed and undisturbed on an upturned shoe outside the back door.

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As soon as the door was opened she made to enter but that can’t be. Her place is outside.

Frisky little beetle, wouldn’t keep still. Flash of blue, all dressed in green. Places to go, things to do.

Clean those wings, polish those antennae, test those muscles for impending flight. Off to the ball.

Plain green beetle also stepping out, exploring the multi-purpose stick I keep for the occasions.

Stepping out and stepping up … can’t keep a good green beetle down. Off into the wild green growth.

In between seasons here, some flowerings at winters end have been cultivated. But I can’t cultivate the mobile and flying creatures beyond providing food and habitat. Then they come or go by a will not mine.

Something of a reformation really, of constituent elements, viewed through a fresh perspective. Since time as past has passed. Nothing ever really repeats. It only looks that way to the eye jaded by familiarity.

Lucky we have the seasons to remind us, nothing stays the same for long. It takes a brightness of being – without thinking or emotion, the psychological self – to discriminate and appreciate.

So here’s some past come once more, in images taken then, not now. And we’ll see what happens next as the garden reaches into spring.

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

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Forgotten …

… but not lost.

Winter is over and spring is on the way. Time for little ones …

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And this little one is laying more little ones. Into the soft stem site on a fallen pawpaw.

Her unmistakeable actions set her apart, and she is solitary, not another of her kind about.

Intriguing little things, obviously designed with great consideration for functional detail.

And aesthetic appreciation … A designer indeed, if unformed and unnameable. … An intelligence that doesn’t bend to the rational mind.

The first fruit fly of its kind this year, laying into the pawpaw left out for the purpose.

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

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