Marbled White

One of the big advantages of having a garden that looks more like an overgrown field than a tended area is that meadow butterflies are wont to wander into it. For the past ten days we've had Meadow Browns and Large Skippers competing for feeding rights over the red valerian in the front garden, and when I went into the back garden to check the ponds this morning I accidentally disturbed this Marbled White, who was breakfasting on the clover in the top "lawn". Although he flew up and fluttered away from me, he quickly settled again on the ground cover in the rose bed, allowing me to snap his portrait with the long lens I was holding at the time.

At this point I should acknowledge a debt to R, who prefers a lawn to look like a lawn, but has good-naturedly prolonged No-mow May into Just-barely-cut June at my request. He's currently mowing with the blades on their highest setting, which is allowing a carpet of clover, buttercups, dandelions and self-heal to flower, and attracting large numbers of nectar feeders and pollen foragers to the garden. Given how badly the flying invertebrate season started this year, all this ankle-level activity is giving me not just pleasure but reassurance. If you build it, they will come.

J and T were due in the Frozen North this afternoon on the next stage of their Progress, so after breakfast we all drove over to Charlecote, which is only about five miles from Junction 15 of the M40. We had a very pleasant walk around the park, and did so much more chatting that by the time we said goodbye in the car park and went our separate ways, I was feeling slightly hoarse. Luckily R and I had some errands to run in Stratford on our way back home, which put us within striking distance of coffee and cake, and (as I'm sure you know) carrot cake is the best possible remedy for a scratchy throat.

For the record: late this afternoon there were two Beautiful Demoiselles in the wild garden, bickering over territory with a Comma, and a Southern Hawker flying hunting circuits around the top garden. My heart soared every time the Hawker looped round me.