WE FOLLOW

the news all day. Shocked as we are of the terrible accident of the Boeing and the many victims it took.
So many questions still without an answer even if so many persons try to give one. The poor relatives and friends in deep sorrow, knowing the cause will not not change their sorrow, or that is what I suppose.
Here at the hill it has been a very hot day, little activity done because of the heath, a simple walk in the garden was all we managed.
I saw the emarald wasp again, was amazed to realise how tiny she was and saw her walking nervously (again) at the yellow flower. Even if I had wanted I could not take a good picture of her. I wanted to do that because I was curious if I had identified her rightly. Could she not be a Chrysis ignita or fulgida, but they have a sting at their back. This little insect is so little that I could discern none.
She was anxious not to let me take her portrait today, and she must have had her reasons. Kind of celebrity she now is, in Blipkand at the least.
My picture shows the butterflies to visit our garden the most and they are very difficult to catch, because they know they can be easily catched by a predator, even if I do not know who that would be.

My haiku:

For whom the bell tolls
Even when you are a stone
Tiny or giant

A sentence from a poem, titled Reclaimed, by Phoebe Hesketh:

A fallen star
Cooled from the sun to the brink of death we are
Till Love comes down and claims us for His own.

And the proverb:

As much love as there is between the old cow abd the haystack.

1738 in Swift, Dial. iii, 351. Of course it has to be Swift!

And the proverb