Nature's Place

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.

Small bee, or wasp, enjoying the regurgitation of some nectar, or something else. In and out, in …

… and out … Sitting out the passing clouds on a cold winter’s day as she savoured this tasty drop.

Ready then to set off into the wild green garden, no thought for any future.

Sense is too good, to a bee and me, to spoil it with thinking.

The more common kind of weevil visiting the decaying lemon. A female I believe, sitting unusually tall but with thin front legs.

I often observe her with her rear end touching the lemon’s surface. Depositing eggs I think. The lemon serves a multitude it seems.

That would make sense. Also, a weighty rear end is economically supported on the ground, and keeps the head up and alert.

Here she’s grazing. Then she makes the perfect subject, too absorbed to notice any disturbance I make in her landscape.

Then there’s mating, and those long male legs come in handy to maintain position and balance on an otherwise precarious lemony world.

An other kind of weevil, or babies frolicking on a young lemony world. It’s hard to say without interfering …

Where the lemon attached to the tree a fungus grows from within, and he loves it. … Notice his long legs now, broad at front, apparently oversized.

Come into my arms … said the spider to the … bee, or whatever edible unlucky enough to come along.

Such a lovely coloured flower … will give pollen to fortify and nectar to speed you on your way. … Spider’s gotta eat too.

A magnificent beast … free of any impatience, or willfulness … simply waiting with a sense of being, hungry or to reproduce …

And every now and then she gets up and wanders around her home in the mauve flowering. Being what she is, seeing what she sees.

Always with a touch to her early warning system, trip threads. … A flower, wonderful little home for a crab spider.

Here’s looking back at ya.

And down on ya.

From the side of ya.

And up at ya. … Ya is good. … Ya …