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  • Writer's pictureCrone

On being a scattergun flibbertigibbet dilettante...

You know that I have these, er, doubts about the conversations with trees? [Well, obviously. You clearly have a screw loose. I understand that accepting it may help recovery. - Ed.] And that I seem to flit from thing to thing - painting and poetry and psychology to philosophy and worms to trees and crows to robins and so on? [One could say that's what keeps these posts, fresh? If one were being generous. Which I'm not. - Ed.] And that I feel I am really rather shit at everything? [I hate to be the bearer of unwelcome tidings, but you are. - Ed.] And I don't really have the drive and determination to delve as deep as I need to if I wanted to really write a paper or a book. It's too much like hard work. [Yes, lazy as well. - Ed.] But I try very hard to hold on to a sense of wonder and to follow curiously and to keep exploring... and really, I don't think that's entirely bad, is it? [Put it that way, and maybe it's not so very bad. - Ed.]

Anyway, as I try to snap birds in the garden, I have more and more trouble because of the vegetation. I can't see them for leaves and flowers. Now, the leaves and flowers are great - and they are appreciated by the birds for offering security and shade and invertebrates.

I don't think this bee was bothering the dunnock, who was all ruffled up before the insect arrived. I think he was hot - it was very warm that day.

I like these shots. Whatever critter this is, check out those multicoloured stripes! What beauty!

This garden is so small and so... ungardened... and yet there is seldom nothing available to inspire wonder. The worms busily creating soil between the concrete path and the birds' water dishes, for example. The wren singing invisibly. The rustlings at night when I know the hedgehogs must be about. The valiant mint growing through such a squeeze of big leaves. The ever watchful starlings and the scolding tits. The aphids on the roses and the effervescent honeysuckle.

I think of the wonder of flight and the miracle of metamorphosis. The aesthetics of song and petal. The alchemy of photosynthesis and the silent dark work below the ground. Though it is not silent. Nothing really is. Listen carefully enough and you hear the rustle of the seeking root-tips.

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2 comentários

03 de jun.

Your "editor" has a wicked sense of humour 😉 but in the end, supportive! I love what you bring to these posts, the wonderful variety of topics, and photos. And yes, the sense of wonder. Indeed. So a great big THANKS for your efforts and sharings.

Great bee/ insect shots! Flying and foraging. The ones on the blue flowers look a lot like honeybees. (Or could be some other wild bee but they're usually darker). I'll stop for awhile during my next walk and listen for the root-tips searching x

03 de jun.
Respondendo a

Thank you so much for the thoughtful response xxx

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