Louis Dallara Fine Art Photography
- Nov 2, 2018
- Mount Laurel, NJ USA
- Real Name
- Louis Dallara
Amazing, Thanks for sharingI made a mud brick with earth from under the roots of a fallen tree and drilled holes for the blue banded bees to nest in.
It took a while for any to take to it this year but a few did and would roost nearby, not a good year for the bees anyway.
In passing I noticed some unexpected activity and bent to investigate. Flies … spiders and others, no surprise really.
Where there’s space for it, life takes form, form dies, and life goes on.
1. The BBB likes to make a nest by tunneling into dry clay, where it’s sheltered from the elements. Females sleep in the tunnels, males roosting nearby, as a general rule.
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2. From a hole in the side of the mud brick this fly emerged, staggered, looking fresh as … Could be a youngster, I think.
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3. This one, a brother perhaps, stumbled out of the same hole and was promptly entangled in a spiders web just below.
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The Blue Banded Bee can be found sheltering from the cold dark sky under cover of the star jasmine, holding on to dried out stems.
They won’t give up, that’s not their nature. Come sunrise they will be away once more, seen doing what they do best, buzzing about the gardens nectar pots.
No worries about getting through the winter, no fear of death. None of that nonsense for the intrepid BBB.
4. No fancy camera work, just what I could get without disturbing them. Don’t want to be the death of any this close to ‘winter’.
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5. Proud little thing, comfortable being a bee, alert for non bee things in the cold dark night.
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Colder and colder, fewer and fewer, the Blue Banded Bees are making a heroic effort at surviving. They also have the sense to shelter from the cold clear sky at night, hanging from a thread.
Literally, life on a thread for these guys. Always somewhere near the nest where the females would usually be. A few of them about the garden during the day.
Still some flowers blooming on our warm winter days, enough to keep a few bees fuelled up for their frantic paced flight.
Fly little fireball, to the end of … burn up the form with the passage of the sun.
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The Last BBB …
One by one they disappeared over the last couple weeks, not missed as they go, but acknowledged then gone.
The seasons turn with the place of the sun and in our orbital world what turns re-turns.
So in the depths of winter, spring is burgeoning behind the barren view.
Well, it’s all relative, isn’t it.
Until it’s not …
11. This is the actual last one, an image of. Hanging on under a cold full moon recent nights. With a little luck nature will have populated my mud brick hotels for next season, little B’s asleep. I might move them to a warmer location, soon to catch springs morning sun.
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12. From the recent Bee Purple, you take what shots are available, priority being to leave no footprint in the sand of their sensible lives. Except perhaps the sight and smell and taste of blooming aromatic nectar filled flowers. They do enjoy that.
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13. There appears to be two different kinds of BBB, or is it ages. The dark coloured, full orange fur coated ones being a bit bigger and just looking more mature. I haven’t watched them so close to know, and does it really matter …
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Intelligence self evident, only the self absorbed cannot see, lost in the labyrinthine tunnels of a wholly imagined world. Lost to the world of sense, where these creatures reign. Every one a king or queen behind, each in mortal form below, where all does come and go.
Well, maybe not the last BBB after all ...
Though the actual form is gone the image lingers.
Invoking all the same reactions, suspected real enough.
Like here, appearing to represent something more substantial.
When, after examining the usual places, it appears there is nothing supporting.
Another image, it lingers still, insistent upon acknowledgement, as all life does.
But not to judge the situation, that we make it so, or something else.
The roiling pressure shapes the body, as the mind, in there.
No mystery to the mechanical, but behind, another matter.
Or maybe no matter at all, just requires seeing.
We’ll see … when all’s done, and not.
What ghosts endure.
14. Lion of the garden, a Blue Banded Bee long gone now. No doubt his essence is passed on, maybe next years bees will shine so.
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15. Disturbed at night, see his spurs … A frog or … might have objection to them. He went back to sleep, from the dream of waking.
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16. Still dreaming, a much bigger bite than at first sight. Instinctive defense from the nights stem climbing predators.
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17. And just for a change, the angle is relative, down is often how they hang. Magnificent little Blue Banded Bee.
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