Let My Hair Down

Let’s take a post break from Cerok Tokun, though nobody will ever get tired with her, physically or mentally, soaked or bored. She is always my weekend lover.

I have my weekday lovers, at home.

One of them let me dwell under its vine tree, although life with her tastes very sour.

Another offer me a bitter bite, but keep reminding me about the silver lining of every cloud.

The third that looks hairy and odd is usually a joker who sweets and sours me from time to time.

Someone said, "There are many pretty ladies but we can only be in love with one; so powerless."

I do not quite agree with this.

A Trick

This must be a trick.

The fern leaves have dyed themselves golden yellow into which a Stripe-throated bulbul merges itself so well. It then tries to perch quietly to trick me, but the big brother unintentionally discloses its position: the bulbul has to avoid itself repeatedly from the glaring sunlight.

This must be a trick in the morning. Nature always wants to play games with me. I am smart enough this time to spot the bulbul.

This makes me feeling very great, no matter of the smallness of the success.

Filthy but Handsome

The days get brighter earlier at this time of the year.

And this is the time Cerok Tokun puts on some bright makeup. I find her so pretty; I must be the same in her eyes. Yet I am filthy soaked, and can be mistaken as its own species by a fly, especially when my murmur comes to no end.

I am then a filthy but handsome old man; so contradictory.

When I Can Fly

This was one of the Sunday morning. I whistled back while the Puffed-throated Babblers were singing the same old song. The cicadas continued calling in a loud noise; that occasionally attracted an unintended visitor like me. The only quiet scenes were the bright spots on the trees and on the ground.

I saw me and my shadow took turn to lead each other during the trekking.

And I met this caterpillar on the ground. “You are having a tough trip climbing up Cerok Tokun; I better go downhill.” It told me.

“You are right, but I can see more up there.” I replied.

“I agree. Let’s meet you there once I can fly.”

Evolution

Ants have only Monday, yet I enjoy hiking every weekend. Is this what we call civilization?

I always stop here and there for pictures of the nature. I can see ants moving around to count the number of flowers. One of the ants I found this morning seemed very excited; its number counted in this morning must be as more as my blog traffic flow within two years time.

Is this a sign of evolution of ants? And will they go hiking and have their blog in the future?

No End to the Adventures

I went hiking with my wife last Sunday; this was rare. Thus she asked what I had captured when stopping near a tree. I told her it was a gecko. I told her I took pictures of a babbler after catching up with her again.

I told her half of the truth.

(We live in a wonderful world that is full of beauty and charm. There is no end to the adventures that we can have if only we seek them with our eyes open).

I never told her the other half:

You see, these critters looked at me with their eyes wide open and without hesitation. I must be very special.

The Scenes

I saw mist. I saw clouds. I saw sun this morning.

(I am reading a book which talks about seeing through the past and present life.)

I had a different feeling looking at the clouds, it seemed like they were telling me when something was right, it became wrong, and bad was good instead. Nothing remained as normal as we presume.

I saw mist in front of wind, and sun behind the clouds.

(I am reading a book: that is only the past, the present is the most important.)

One needs to take things easy.