TRUE COLOURS

I managed to take one picture before this exquisite example of creation escaped back to bugland.

I'm assuming that he was a little misguided in the quest for a sunset mosquito feast , and inadvertently spent the night trapped on the inside of our sliding door screen.

I played with the saturation and sharpness as the original was a little muted .

I was thrilled to see a more stunning and alive dragonfly emerge .

This past week was jungle humid . Clients' gardens that are near the lake, buzz and hum with white flies, moths, butterflies, mosquitoes. Snails , slugs, and spiders tenaciously rebuild and reclaim.

Sweat drips from all the nooks and crannies of a body. Dust clings. Energy wanes.

I found myself on more than one occasion grumbling about left in the way pool toys, crowded pathways, awkward plant groups in tight corners or on sloped rock formations.

I sneered at unrolled hoses and storm strewn patio chairs.

I cursed the limp and tedious daylily foliage and Annabelle Hydrangeas.

It was all I could do drag the soggy debris bags and tools and myself back home.

Flat . Blah. Muted.

The true colours of my impatience showing through in the glisten and itch of perspiration .

I wish it was as easy as adjusting the tones and hues to make a vivid elegant me pop on demand.

That when we're trapped with little control over the outcome , between the dark and the light, someone would see it there. Free us and know we radiate.

So we can get back to riding the breeze and staying close to water.

Shining.