Nature's Place

Pawpaw has been drying out in the winter sun and cold wind. … Fly paid a visit and sat a while.

Fly makes its home here, only found on decaying fruit in the garden. … Long legged fly dances.

Midge at rest nearby. Where there’s food the forms of life come in waves, to take advantage.

Weevil on the hunt for a little food. Mold will do, often seen harvesting some on the skin of decay.

Another nearby opportunist – aren’t we all – waiting its turn at advantage, or opportunity, to live on.

Some don’t live on. … That’s life too. … No doubt took advantage of opportunity when it could. … Now back to the bright black beauty.

An eight legged spider, as all spiders are. … The strangest thing … not that this young huntsman was out in the dead of winter, roaming a lifeless indoor wall.

And not in a hurry anywhere either, pausing frequently so I could get a few shots, but definitely going ‘somewhere’, but nowhere in particular. And then I see it.

Oops! How on earth did this happen, who or what would ever go anywhere, or nowhere,  just to drop a leg? But it must have got caught up, and easier to let it go than fight for it.

And that’s what it did. But never mind, it will just grow a new one. If it can find enough to eat to survive long enough to grow it. … But no problem, just the fact of spider being.

That’s life …

No sentiment in nature.

… and death.

Walking on water, or is it thin ice … either way it’s a balancing act by a consummate hunter.

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.

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.

You can see a dandelion, fruit of the earth, in sense.

You can try smell it but it’ll probably get up your nose.

You can blow on it and seeds will take off into the air.

That’s sense of earth, with not a single thought in it.

Big bad leopard beetle loving the strawflower early in the morning. No sign of trouble. … Hmm, pollen of gods.

Some kind of wasp loving the sunflower. … Somewhere to wait out the wind, grab a bite and survey the landscape.

Shield bug loving the butterfly bush flowers, sitting in the sun, bouncing in the breeze. … Not a worry in the world.