I’m grateful these days.

Beauty awaits me at every turn—every turn around the sun. I think it’s because I am so thankful to be alive while so many I knew, so many I’ve loved, have left this ride.

I’ve read recently, “Some people could be given an entire field of roses and only see the thorns in it. Others could be given a single weed and only see the wildflower in it. Perception is a key component of gratitude, and gratitude is a key component of joy.” Amy Weatherly

Joy is good.

In our world of murder, from the tragic personal to the incomprehensible global, there is also beauty. Despite the bloody thorns around it, we need to be grateful for the sweet rose of beauty.

Sometimes, in my efforts to capture the beauty of our sea and our shore, I find it at my feet.

I recently planned a return to the shore for mammalian beauty rising from the sea.

But as I approached the boardwalk ramp, I saw a leaf beginning its scud across its boards. As I started up the ramp, I saw no leaf but spindly beauty in motion.

This mantis apparently left the nearby garden for parking lot splendor.

The kinetic skeleton, oblivious to the peril of bikes and feet, Do-Dee-Doed across the boards.

The leafy camo worked well in the weeds but wouldn’t protect against passersby stomps.

The “praying” mantis was definitely a camera capture, but I also felt an instinct to be its crossing guard.

I was amused that I had my whale-catching 300 mm lens with only this five-inch leaf imposter before me. So I knelt with my phone while protecting the creature from striding Adidas or speeding Canondales.

I often find myself in curious body contortions when engaged in a photo capture; this time, too.

People came down the ramp, surprised to see someone kneeling before a kneeling mantis. One, my down-the-hall neighbor, might have felt I needed some counseling.

But, why, I thought, would this creature head for this paved parking area…

…when it had this green habitat with a full dinner menu—or even some lover leftovers.

I tried to guide the mantis back to the garden, but the creature would have none of it.

I finally toted it back to its pasture with a take-out lid from a trash basket.

But before it mounted the lid, I noticed the same exasperated stare as the other creatures I shared with you:

I’ve often observed that my intervention in a creature’s work is not always best for them. Upon returning home, I found that mantises live for about a year. I also learned that they lay their eggs in autumn and then die.

This mantis may have planned to lay eggs on the parking lot side of the ramp—away from egg predators.

That’s when I came along.

Well, at least she didn’t end up a green smudge on the boardwalk ramp—eggs and all.

On the way home, without whale pics, I spotted this doll on a garden wall.

Apparently, the finder positioned it so, hoping to return it to a child. I see beauty in acts like that, too.

I took a shot of it, knowing if I were spotted taking posed photos of Barbie…

…there would certainly be a knock at my door.

Be well,

Leebythesea