Nature's Place

Winter Colour

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Jewel bugs, overwintering in the local bush regeneration that buried the bees nest sites, posing with some reluctance – the shot still has to be made in the seconds available.

It’s a wonderful warm and occasionally wet winter here and everything is getting a head start on spring.

Life is burgeoning, even got a few pear tree seedlings – pips from the cores – going on the deck.

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Whereupon I dreamt a most peculiar dream … life after life a demon thwarted, in numerous bodies, until in the darkness met …

© Mark Berkery ……. Click on those pictures for a closer look

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Flowers Of Winter …

our sub tropical Brisbane winter. With the gardens colours for background, naturally.

Found years ago in the remnant rainforest and now, from a few seeds, populates the shadowed corners of the garden.

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Three of these bought as seedlings last year and still hanging on with a few flowers, sheltered by other plants from the cold night sky.

Impending bloom, believed to be from South Africa. Adds colour to the winter garden.

Never one for formality I rarely remember names of things so I won’t try. Another impending bloom.

This one flowers all year round. If something really needs a feed this one is always available and willing. As nature does.

Since I keep the garden watered many otherwise invisible plants appear. This is the flower of a succulent that grows from Autumn.

Nibbled. Another of the three from last year. African tulip tree in flower behind with blue sky through darkened branches.

Most flowers come to the garden as experiments by way of seed from plants found in the wild.

I often don’t know what’s going to grow where in a garden that was once coastal wetland forest.

A wonderfully wild and beautiful nature.

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Lost a day this week … can’t find it anywhere.

© Mark Berkery ……. Click on those pictures for a closer look

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Flower …

… because it’s possible.

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It’s been a warm winter and in parts the garden ‘thinks’ it’s spring, with all the new growth and some winter flowers.

But most of the little creatures aren’t fooled, too easy to die when the cold of dark space falls from a clear moonlit night.

© Mark Berkery ……. Click on those pictures for a closer look

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Not Another Dozen …

spiders and flies.

Female ambush spider – don’t make a web as spiders are commonly understood to. Waiting for something to come within reach.

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Garden fly, or kitchen … Unsuspecting, because they don’t have a suspicious mind. Enjoying the pure sense of a flower head.

Another ambush spider casting or waiting in the night. Clearly uses its silk, or re-uses it. Naturally conservative.

Chia seed heads as bed for the night. A favourite of the garden fly of late. Drier and warmer than most live ‘homes’ these colder nights.

Another of those orb weavers tucked up in the greenery. Almost spiky cute and deadly dangerous to anything in its web, night or day.

Bearded bluebottle – making it up as I go. Caught napping one warm afternoon. Amazing little flyers. Zoom … round the garden.

Butterfly bush, home to so many in its season. This ambusher lived from pinhead size to half inch span, maybe longer. What a journey.

Those chia lovers again, in tandem for the night. Someone’s always got to go first. My hand in the background making light.

Definitely casting this time, maybe. Letting the silk take it where it will on a dark night. Perpetual wanderers all … nomadic.

A pretty picture of one of nature’s little fly robots on a flower robot. We’re all robots, predictable, and then something else …

Male lynx looking after the nest until the young hatch. How’s that for paternal instinct … not an unusual occurrence in nature.

Some creatures just shouldn’t mix socially with others. Life can be unpredictable, predictably so. Death for one is life for another.

The fly struggles to the last, and then …

Everybody has to die sometime, somehow.

And if there’s a choice best to do it properly …

… with a will, anew and anew and anew ….

© Mark Berkery ……. Click on those pictures for a closer look

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Another Dozen …

… or so.

Let’s begin with this little beauty. Orb Weaver, almost invisible wrapped around the end of a rose stem. Waiting for the night to unfold.

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From behind and upside down, was the only option. Wonderful patterning, as if by design. She is well dressed indeed.

I disturbed her so she shifted position and then upside down was all there was. Using a piece of paper to reflect flash up.

A Hopper in the afternoon, same young tree as the Sawfly – a very busy tree through the year. Seems to be sucking some sap.

Little Johnny, baby Hopper, still some growing to do. As long as one is careful a few shots can be had in the open.

Broadside view of the adult. Aren’t they wonderfully adorned, by nature. Life comes in with the knowledge of that form and blooms.

And then today …

… this fella? came into view. Hadn’t seen him before and he wasn’t comfortable. The whole family were on that branch, to and fro.

At some point he tried to get away so I gave him my hand and he climbed on. Then he stopped to taste me, but not for long …

Another Hopper, big cream eyes and bright green body. She always sees me. We do a dance until she gives in and stops for a shot.

Gecko, hunting by night. Smiley little thing, as long as your not small enough to fit in its mouth. Ravenous creatures … endless appetite.

From the rain-forest, bright eyes. Flits from place to place and stops for god knows what, for a shot. Thank you fly, thank you life.

This is rotated a-c. It locked on and lay a thread at waist to keep it from bending too far – or so it bends appropriately – while it turns, from a caterpillar into a moth? See the impression of eyes, antennae sweeping back and the broad wings beneath.

The odd lady out. A flower filled with water, Morning Glory after the rain. But, but … what’s that over bottom left. Springtails?

A focus of being unnamed, in sense unfiltered, a sea of wild mutable form undying, rising and falling with the vitality of the sun to the pulse of the moon.

The small things don’t reel from the past nor dream of a future, their light undimmed, shining as pure sensation, inside.

© Mark Berkery ……. Click on those pictures for a closer look

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A Crooked Dozen …

Weevil on cut branch overlooking its domain with fruit fly, from rotting fruit below, passing by in the night.

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Hopper with a back-pack. Haven’t seen the likes before, the back-pack – looks like a fungus. Couldn’t get closer.

Wouldn’t stay still for long so got what I could between jumps and scramblings. Seemed vital and healthy enough …

Couldn’t get close without provoking it so here’s a crop.

An unusual sight, stingless bees at war. To the right of the nest entrance the ground was littered with pairs fighting and dying.

It went on for days, this battle where the dead were clearly disposed of away from the nest. Could just be extensive house-cleaning.

Caught in a web, this shield bug would have fed a small spider for weeks. See it just below and centre.

A cavernous shell anchored to the tree makes a good home for a while. Good hunting ground too, for the tiny one.

Got itself caught up where no spider had been for a while. I helped it out. No need for it to die just yet.

Placing the stick where it could grip it the fly was stronger than the web. It got free of the remains and away it went.

And beneath it all … mystery.

© Mark Berkery ……. Click on those pictures for a closer look

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A Dozen Of …

flies. I think they are flies. A male and female, I think.

Otherwise I’m not thinking any more today.

*A few pix of nearby larva added below.

Him, I think … with two short antennae and blue eyes.

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Him again …

Notice, not a lot of thinking going on …

And her, I think … with one long antennae ending in a bright yellow bulb, with pinkish eyes.

From various angles and backgrounds as could be managed … she was a good model for a while.

No thinking here …

… or here.

Taking the opportunity to clean those wings, whether they need it or not.

Hello little one … She got restless and came up to the lens and tried to climb on.

She is a beauty, in her own right. The only ‘right’ that matters. Whatever that means. No thinking now …

At some point she ended up on my hand, enjoying the warmth maybe. Eventually I put her up where she’d catch the sun in the morning.

Larva (spitfires?) found on the same tree as the ‘female’. They do this thing, pointing their tails up, makes one wary …

Found on a nearby tree, maybe a different sort altogether – not my field.

Or these …

Also found on the same tree at another time. Larva of something …

© Mark Berkery ……. Click on those pictures for a closer look

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Black And White – I Fly

The fly’s actual length is around 12mm.

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The wing would be around 7mm long.

I have seen this fly a few times over the years but never got a shot until recently when it flew across my path and landed on a big tree I was inspecting.

It looks black and white to the unaided eye, no colours at all, but some hues and shades appear when you get up closer. A fly’s eye view you could say.

It’s a plain enough creature, unremarkable in a way, still amazing to be able to enter its world this way and see what another fly would see.

I look across and see what I would look like as a fly. I see fly … You never know, at the surface, the genius behind the form.

© Mark Berkery ……. Click on those pictures for a closer look

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Morning Glory Purple

At first, buried deep in the flower, supping on the nectar. Then caught it as it emerged over the pollen laden stamen.

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Wandering about in the colour and nourishment it didn’t stay still for long. Big pollen grains for good bee work.

My hand is never far from my subject. It came for the warmth that makes a difference in our winter shade.

Balanced on the edge of the petal, not yet ready for flight, it climbed for who knows what – security.

One other of its kind, on the flowering nicotiana, shy of the camera. Gotta be quick to catch these guys.

I put some old sweet potato in the ground and something else grew as well. The garden often does that, mysteries emerging.

This time it is a lovely morning-glory vine, where the passion-fruit vine used to be. A place for vines it would seem.

A few creatures visit it in its window of sunshine on a cold ‘winter’s’ day, taking what nourishment or shelter they can.

It’s the way of the garden, flowers as beacons to passing travellers, oasis of colour and nectar in man’s jungle.

A chance to live a little longer, in complete accord with life’s desire to live and live again.

How we are, how it is, in these magnificent little robotic selves.

© Mark Berkery ……. Click on those pictures for a closer look

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