Butterfly, And A Piece of Wood

It was another working Saturday. This butterfly was ready to rest when I reached home. It was a hard day's night for both of us.

I managed to click a few shots before it went sleeping like a dog, or a log?

I might be a piece of log who would like to get caught in the rain, this seemed to be very normal for the butterfly in the other way. Or it had actually been in the delta stage of sleep.

And while I was picturing and poeting about the water droplets and the butterfly using my camera, I was pulled back to reality.

"The caterpillars had already devoured our leaves completely, and you still enjoyed taking its photo."

I confirmed myself as a piece of wood after a hard day's work.

By the way, this is the chilly tree in daylight on which the butterfly perched yesterday night. It is hot.

A deer was shrunk

Gosh, the great computer program was corrupted, and hence Nature had accidentally shrunk a deer into a black little thing carrying the body of a bee. I did not expect to see a wild deer at Cerok Tokun, and it never expect to find itself in this strange place.

It kept going round a grass tip. This made my camera very hard to get focus on it. I was very much drained trying to take photographs of this weird little thing than to hike Cerok Tokun.

It could not stop turning as if it was driven by questions after questions: "What has happened to me?", "Why am I here?", "Where are the rest?".

"Oh no, I am not what I am!" (Rainfield, you have spoiled me!!)

It noticed it could fly finally. It flew away.

A Surprise Greeting

I could not help feeling euphoric because of the sudden bursts of endorphins. This happened when I found a long-horned grasshopper greeting me good morning. I bet nobody should have this experience before.

It might try to be funny behind my back and never greet me purposely. We caught each other in surprise the moment I turned around while exploring the surroundings.

It looked away from me and shook its long antennae to pretend as if nothing had happened.

It then moved away slowly. Observe closely and you can find it looking back while the grasshopper was leaving me.

It did feel shy and stressful as we do. We are alike.

Lines of Rainbow

It was one of the Saturday that I saw lines of rainbow.

When the sun raised to the height of a spider web, the later had disclosed the content of their discussion. I happened to over heard and thought of sharing this finding with you, but my capability failed to reflect this momentary happening accurately.

They talked while the sun was moving. I moved around with my camera sillily to find out the silent talk had ceased finally.

Will you then hammer me if I say I saw a spinning spider web later?

I have to insist on that. My father taught me that if I did not do silly things, nothing intelligent would ever get done, but I forgot to ask, and it is too late to ask, what if there is a hammer around.

Little Grasshopper

Keep my chin up and I’ll see the clouds in the sky. Keep my chin down and all I’ll see is not always the dirt on the floor, I see also little spirits.

It emerged from the edge of a leaf and stared at me curiously while I was busy photographing its neighborhood. It looked confused in front of my camera wondering who actually I was and what actually I was doing. It seemed to spend time making assumptions and checking on the "true" or "false".

I do not know how though the life of a grasshopper is, but its eyes were bloodshot and weary. It kept scratching its head and shaking its little brain.

Do all philosophers always stress themselves to the limit?

"Let's go back for another round of sleep."

"Yawn."

Little spirits

They began to emerge gradually; they jumped, they crawled and they flied from grasses to leaves.

I did not drop down into a rabbit hole like Alice did in the Wonderland, and Cerok Tokun was as normal and usual, but they were not visible normally. I need a password whereby Cerok Tokun is the interface between us. The password is "peace_of_mind".

The first one that came into sight was a little spirit that was a stranger and weird to me.

This fly looked so naked without the usual clothing printed with dark grey stripes.

This little one must be one of the many species of grasshopper that exist in this undergrowth.

They seemed to be living peacefully around these little purple flowers.

But who knows one of them maybe a predator or a prey to another.

Empididae 舞虻

As I go further, though not reaching the Cretaceous period which was 144--65 millions years ago, I learn that Empididae is one of the insects that found entrapped in an amber.

And now we were here at Cerok Tokun. It did not tell me the stories that long lost during evolution. My imagination travelled along with those told by men: they rode on Pterosaurs that flew along with birds resembling loons, cormorants, pelicans and sandpipers. And they danced with the same moon, sun and stars that we never miss to see day in and day out.

They perched on grasses and ferns, and the later lived more than 300 million years ago and were at their height during the Carboniferous Period.

They continue their journey, and we happened to meet each other at this moment.

I found myself surrounded by a vast history.

Cycad Blue in love

Mating between butterflies usually lasts from 15 minutes to 3 hours, but they flew away once startled by me. I was so regretful for not able to witness more; it seemed like the male was injecting his yellowish spermatophore into mating tube of the female; anyway that split second with a sole snapshot was still wonderful.

I was attracted to the scene as many Cycad Blue Butterflies were flying in a spiraling manner upwards. They were actually attracted by the females. All these happened beautifully in my little garden.

My Cycad Palm was spoiled by their larvae at the same time. I need to trim away the withered leaves in order to rejuvenate and realize new lives.

There is always a tug of war between beauty and the beast.

A different Fungus

They had secluded themselves so much so that I failed to trace them in the Internet, but my gut feeling tells they are some sort of fungus. They appeared on my hiking trail for the first time and for two consecutive Sundays.

They hung down like stalactites from the side of a felled tree.

They continued growing through the next Sunday to about one inch long.

There were more adults than little babies after the rains.

They had been pretty for about three weeks but cannot avoid getting ugly after that.

Time has a wonderful way of showing us whatever will be, will be. To be or not to be a celebrity, there will be an answer, let it be.

Gangsters in the Forest

As a matter of fact, things can never turn out right for all the time.

These mushrooms are found stranded on the door step in front of a monster spider. Time is tickling away; anxiety is being squeezed out, and is the only thing that is leaving for the photo shooting session.

They must be able to call for help if they know a device called mobile phone.

By the way, my camera simply fails to focus properly in front of this monster. My mushroom friends sure have their reason to have fear somehow.

Thing can be even worse when I hear a mushroom screaming in pain not far away. A gangster cricket is tearing it down piece by piece. Its day has been spoiled.

But this is a part of laws of nature and I cannot help much. The cycle repeats as day goes on.

As I move on, a green warrior and I brush passed each other.

Pinkish ladies

Rain keeps on falling down. The widespread news has gained much attention from the communities. The mushrooms left home at dawn. They seem to get completely soaked through with sweat, or with rain. I just cannot tell, but I know they are certainly more excited than me.

I was half awakened at three-thirty in the morning to find out heavy rain has started spreading the news. At four-thirty, it still carried on and was almost done at five-thirty. I left home at six-forty five and am astonished to see these lady mushrooms wearing pinkish make-up in the dim forest. They look very attractive even without the hottest bag on the market and never cover their heads with the hats of Queen Elizabeth.

Every one of them keeps me smiling; and it is this smiling curve that sets everything straight.

Hi, Can you see me?

Rain keeps on falling down. It is spreading the breaking news regarding the photo shooting at Cerok Tokun, but not every mushroom can attend though most of them like to be a potential celebrity. It is a big problem to be slower than a snail. They know this simple fact, but would never want to give up.

They started to climb up a muddy and slippery mound on my hiking trail at dawn. They want to ensure I have no way not to see them, and they really make it. With that extra effort, they turn ordinary into extraordinary.

Everybody is now watching at them.

I have done my simple task. I leave the hardest part to you, my friends; your power of influence will decide whether they can be one of the celebrities; let's say, another Michael Jackson?

So beat it. Just beat it.

A Grand Morning

Rain keeps on falling down. It is spreading the news about a photo shooting session over the other end of the bridge, and news spreads so fast in the community.

These mushrooms started to cross the bridge before my arrival. They of course need to leave very early as they move much slower than a snail. Their enthusiasm is clearly reflected when trying to overtake each other. It may look dangerous but is not actually.

That is not an easy path which requires up and down through the journey, nevertheless they think it worths bearing the grand event in mind.

They would like to be a potential celebrity in the cyberspace.

"The difference between try and triumph is just a little umph!", and this one is pushing its last "umph" before saying hi to me.

"Good morning my friend."

Then it is my turn for the rest of the work.

A Morning With Little Orange Mushrooms

I have been told that missing princesses are guarded by mythical dragons that fly and spout fire; I find no castle and sleeping dragon over here, but see little orange mushrooms, and mosquitoes are their guardian.

The mosquitoes maybe not as strong as a dragon, but they manage wave after wave of air attacks.

These little mushrooms are smaller than my pinkie nail, but are visible at a dark corner. Those "Ninja" mosquitoes just come from nowhere.

I am not a prince who rides on a white horse but am armed with a flashsaber, the mosquitoes somehow change to attack from behind. My dark blue trouser is an obvious target to them. I can feel the stings.

I then leave the mushrooms behind. The mosquitoes may think that they are the winner, yet I have actually captured the soul of mushrooms.

Who care who are the winner in the end.