What is it looking for by a weed flower? It may not be a macro shot because it is neither Rainfield nor a blogger.
It keeps wandering and wandering around.
I can't wait to tell love is in the air, only to unseal it from the fern leaves.
What is it looking for by a weed flower? It may not be a macro shot because it is neither Rainfield nor a blogger.
It keeps wandering and wandering around.
I can't wait to tell love is in the air, only to unseal it from the fern leaves.
I am not an eagle that soars sky high, but each of my simple dreams does have wings to fly. They fly around the trees, sing along with the birds, skimming the surface of the water and dive into the undergrowth.
Yes, these little critters are neither an eagle but they do enjoy their own life.
Happiness is simple; the less we ask for the more we get.
When to be the first one or the second is crucial which I need to consult the woods, or to observe the comings and goings, in the jungle.
I met a funny-looking mushroom in Cerok Tokun this morning: it grew a white mustache! I would want to know the reason on this extra-ordinary phenomenon.
"Every great man has a mustache." It answered with a broad grin.
That seemed not to be a good answer to me, so I poked and pried further, "Really?"
"Don't you think I am as sexy as Santa?"
I touched my smooth chin thinking of quoting someone greater. I gave up after a quick thought.
A daydream did make the mushroom feeling very high.
Time is a good teacher. The ladybird accepted the fact that she never owned any black spots finally.
If there was a color to describe her mood, blue certainly was the one, and these blue and blues grew, spread and submerged her in the end.
What a little bug's life.