Nature's Place

Away …

Fire from the wood, under the sun … as all things here are.

Short and sweet this week.

Will be back …

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

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The Washing …

Not the prettiest face you ever saw, but she is a beauty. Tireless in her service to our amazing nature.

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I could see no reason for her to be on the ground, no damage or sign of exhaustion. Some things just are.

It took a while for her to steady herself but once up she was inquisitive of her situation, being handled with care.

Raising her up before she fell, time for a shot or two on the way. Quiet little beauty bee, stingless today.

Up on the washing line I had a few clothes. I put her to sit a while and she took to it easy, no worries on her little mind.

Manipulating the cloth for some background and the shot with some detail, she began her cleaning routine.

Wiping down her tongue here, the eyes and antennae get regular attention. Clean and proud is her way.

Careful not to disturb her, my finger the other side of the cloth, shooting from a few inches.

And in the end we take what nature offers. She’s still in charge, despite our best efforts. Trusting intelligence wins out.

Hanging out the washing I noticed movement at my feet. A closer look revealed a honey bee come to rest on the grass. An unusual place for honey bees.

Maybe she was tired from her early morning foraging, just taking a break. More likely she was knocked from the air, as healthy as she looks to be.

After a while I helper her to the jacket I had just hung up, got a few shots and left her to rest, preen and warm up in the sun.

She seemed content to be alive, doing no more than survive as she served her nature, to gather for the hive.

When I came back she was gone. Life moves on, things change, with a little help.

And there’s always some washing to be done.

All’s well in paradise, well enough.

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

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Homeless …

A beetle of some kind, the colourful kind, found making its home behind loose bark on a gum tree in the local bush. Just the two of them.

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Wonderful colours, and they didn’t flee for safety from the light. Content to let what is be without too much ado.

Not built for raising their head up, though eyes are placed to see regardless. Earth intelligence designs its nature.

Free of concern for tomorrow, no worries on this little fellows mind. Beetle just being beetle, without a single thought.

No, not really … These creatures are at home wherever they are found. At home as home can be in these times.

A while back I started looking at alternatives to how I was living. One option was to find a van or campervan and do some travelling.

That didn’t work out for whatever reason and another option was suggested, house sitting, which I wasn’t much taken with at the time.

Well, now I have taken the first steps in a venture into house sitting and it’s … what it is. What can I say, challenging to the familiar …

Still looking for a van too, for its very practical value in this big country, and in case I do some house sitting further afield.

We’ll see … the small creatures don’t mind where they find me. No self reflection to kick off the caring.

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Whatever happens, there is always the space it happens in, inside – that’s good. Or there’s the sensation inside – that’s neutral.

And by focussing on this first, the other stays in perspective and returns to original form – whatever that is.

It’s a meditation …

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

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Ugly Duckling …

I didn’t know what to make of it at first, is this the front or rear … or deceptive in survival, eat the tail before the head?

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It becomes apparent … it’s the rear all right, of a not very attractive caterpillar resting out of the sun and wind.

At least, by the look of it, I wouldn’t eat it. Not without someone else testing it first. An unusual creature for sure.

Actually, it does grow on me. It is pretty in a way, an alien life-form sort of way. I wasn’t game to taste it though.

And here is its face coming into view, tucked into its middle. Mother probably loves her, mother Earth for sure.

Mother loves us all … And there are its eyes, bottom left, a few small round black dots – click on it and click again. To see into this wonderful Earth with.

An other passing form, in the simple pleasure of being.

And mind, as form, is stilled in apprehension of sensation.

All begins and ends with peace, of mind …

… realisable space of a spiritual nature.

You just gotta look to see …

… in a practical world.

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

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Racing Red …

Hello, hello, hello … up close with a wasp the colour of ferocity, or fear.

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I’ve never met a natural creature that was aggressive without cause.

And close to death, or exhausted, they are often least concerned for intruders.

This wasp is clearly not doing her usual, and looks unusual, but still full of life.

Making the effort to raise herself up on the wire. Not her natural habitat at all, but peaceful all the same.

Let go the hard iron to the green grass, she does not give up, regardless of her apparent burden of form.

and black, two colours of danger, or cause for alarm perhaps.

I came across this wasp hanging on for dear life. Clearly it is deformed, the ovipositor and sheath turned about and misaligned, looks like.

But she’s showing no signs of distress for it, just doing her best as she is, as I see it. Getting on with her life as it is.

Then she let go and flew to the grass nearby. So, something she can live with, a part of the perfection nature is.

Despite the flaw we can enjoy the beauty of her. Red body and blue-black wings, sleek form she is.

Wonderful little Earth machine. Still serving in her way, the way of sense.

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

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Spider …

Huntsman, mother of them all. Whiling away the winter under a sheet of plastic by the house, damp enough to attract other forms, perhaps to eat, next to some straw bales.

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Come spring there will be nests found in such places, when hundreds of little ones will be cared for by mum. You wouldn’t expect some mothers to care so well as she does.

Golden Orb weaver in Eprapah, with a honey bee for dinner. They are everywhere to be found, waiting in their webs, being simple spider life. The EU honey bees never stop here in Brisbane.

To my eye it looked at first like an ant, the little golden spot on the rear perhaps, and appeared more elongated than it does here – like an ant. Ran into view with dinner held firm, husk soon discarded.

A jumping spider, male maybe, spent some time dodging the tiny ants running up and down the tree trunk, where there are also golden bum ants patrolling. Tree trunks can be busy places.

Another Jumper, female I think, in another place at Eprapah. Lots of these guys about, big eyes, always inquisitive, needing to visually know their surroundings.

They won’t sit still for long, so I take what is offered. And observe the uncomplicated life at work and play. I believe they do both in their way.

A more business-like fellow, or lady. As soon as I touched my stick to the tree trunk she was out of her tunnel web and ready to strike. See how she holds the threads taut, ready for action.  Couldn’t get a better shot without risk, of flight or bite.

I didn’t dare offer my finger, just to see … you know. Smaller spiders have left uncomfortable wounds enough, and this one had a certain aura – ‘Feeling Lucky Punk?’

A playful jumper, male again, I think. This one more concerned with his footing than the others. See the strands of silk he maintains a touch of, and anchored from his spinnerets.

Little blue eyes, have seen them signal another with those white socked front feet, waving in the air like flags. Over here, let’s be mates a while … Pretty little thing.

This way and that he turned, I couldn’t keep up. There will be more I think … nature doesn’t give up, though it can be left …

out and about and on the move.

Passing emergent form, as real as yesterday, hold no sway.

Beyond what is believed, or is simply unavoidable.

Past the odd collision, debris trails fade, let go.

Nothing is as it seems, way down.

Beyond (spider) form.

Naturally …

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

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Ancient Life …

Hopper, of a kind …

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Getting up close …

And he’s had enough, as he turns away …

Three amigos …

Protest …

And hide …

An other kind of hopper …

Missing a leg perhaps …

Symmetry …

Odd man out … maybe …

… a relative of this one …

Hmmm, hopper legs …

Need a hand … ?

Heads up …

… on a gum tree in winter in Oz.

Out in the bush a tree is losing its old bark as it swells from the rains.

Shedding its skin. Under the bark various creatures take shelter.

From the rain, the cold and some of the neighbours no doubt.

Not always easy to find but there are often more nearby.

The forms of sense may be few but the life …

… always is … ancient, and new.

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

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Curiouser and Curiouser …

A magnificent little cone, facing away from possible danger, extruded by some crafty creature. No doubt to shelter its young while it developed and give it a flying start when ready.

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Look, nothing up my sleeve … It appears vacant, or vacated, youngster already flown the coop perhaps.

But what’s this, signs of life, movement, of tiny antennae at the entrance. Hmmm, what next may be …

And thar she blows, head full out to check for danger, a little sniff of the air to satisfy the senses all is well.

And away she goes, down the cone in search of her new life, a new home. Her squatting days done, for now.

And she pauses at the tail. Is there somebody, or something left behind? I don’t think so, time to be on her way.

Yes, done here, nothing left to do or see. Time for a new life, into the unknown, perilous life to be.

But what is peril to the one that measures such, is just the natural way of things for this little flying creature. Life … and death.

Was walking around the water treatment plant and noticed this white cone on a branch.

Could see it was open at the wide end and obviously a home to some creature, probably long gone.

Well, I thought I’d take a few shots, just for the curiosity of the structure, a home where no home should be.

While I was composing and focussing I noticed some movement at the opening, and then it was gone.

Wasn’t sure I had actually seen anything but it appeared again and tentatively, looking this way and that …

… set off back down the cone. And so I followed, until I couldn’t, and she was gone.

A little form of mystical nature, every single part making its mark.

Will we miss it when it’s gone? Probably not …

… in light of the new.

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

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The Golden Road …

The Golden Orb spider is a frequent sight in the garden. So called for its golden thread, so sticky nothing is likely to escape it.

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Anything caught in its web is surely done, dead. But a meal to another. And so it is in nature, or anywhere, form changes.

is everyone’s ordinary life. And when you’ve had enough of it you get serious, to find ‘what’s it all about’.

At that point what it’s about begins to resolve into some form of discipline, an inner work to shed the ignorance – what it’s no longer about.

And so you may find yourself directed to look into inner space, into sensation, to see through … To before the beginning of body … how deep is the well.

The well of sensation, like any well, starts at the bottom but we’re at the top. And it’s a long way down, clearing space as we go.

With intimations, even realisations, of the silence, the stillness … the black, along the way.

The way back to the beginning. Let’s see … Do whatever is true, and what’s true changes.

Let go whatever appears, and that way allow nothing to be.

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

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