Stillness

When you are preparing for a baby and concurrently doing a research degree (which applies to both our grandson's parents), gardens get a little deprioritised. The nasturtiums have been delighted with their benign neglect and are still throwing up a riot of orange, lemon and mulberry, which you might expect to be gaudy and out-of-place, but manages to combine gentle, cheerful and defiant, as other plants turn to autumn hues

The bee was a photo-bomber, but of course I did not object. Only when I looked at the picture later did I start to question whether it is actually a honeybee at all. Then I remembered the way it hovered in hawk-like stillness over the flower for long enough for me to take the picture - honeybees do not usually offer that opportunity. I'm not certain but, after looking at pictures, I think this is actually a Patchwork Leafcutter Bee, a solitary bee that does what it says on the label: cuts semi-circles out of the edge of leaves (especially roses) in the garden and uses them to build cells in holes in trees and stems, where it lays its eggs

The lawn was looking a bit less aesthetic for its period out-of-mind. The upside of that is that it allowed me to slip into the role of useful grandfather. A little bit of recompense for the privilege of spending another day with our new arrival. Our daughter tells me the first two weeks after birth is a honeymoon period, when most babies are calm and untroubled, finding their bearings. From tomorrow he may start to become more assertive - meaning noisier! For today, it was blissful to spend time with him, and his parents, without the noise and dramas of hospital and homecoming. A cuddle, a meal, a walk out, a quiet settling. A perfect day. The bees knees