I don’t know why I think of this swallowtail butterfly caterpillar as Bert, not being one to anthropomorphise wild creatures around me as a rule.
After cutting down a fennel plant that was poking through a rose, I found Bert hiding on the lower fronds.
I broke off his frond and introduced it into a living plant, but not being the brightest button in the box Bert hasn’t moved over yet.
He’s a bit more evident in his new location so I hope he won’t make a snack for a passing bird.
I’ll try to keep my eye on him.
According to the weather forecast, it’s possible summer may be returning tomorrow or thereabouts.
After a daily thunderstorm for several days, we were beginning to have doubts about our usually reliable July.
But the plants never lose faith.
Here are a couple of especially sunny flowers which I came across while accompanying Chokri as he strimmed.
I’ve been following my usual practice of trying to save the more unusual plants and the best and brightest blooms, but it isn’t always possible.
The saga of Kepler’s re-adoption continues.
The Veterinary Section of the Social Services phoned me on Wednesday saying they’d received the necessary documentation from Kepler’s new owner to at last transfer him over officially.
I went there this morning, Friday.
The lady in the office suddenly noticed that there was no identification for the new owner attached to the form, even though the form demanded it, and therefore the transfer couldn’t be done.
What was more, the new owner who already has 5 or 6 dogs couldn’t be found on the computer register.
It turned out to be something to do with the computer not recognising second first names.
In the end it was agreed I wouldn’t have to come in again and the office lady would sign on my behalf.
In the meantime, Kepler remains our responsibility (6 months down the line from having handed him over) but if anything were to happen she will bear witness to the situation.
That was the best I was going to get.
I have no actual evidence but I think it was golden orioles that stole our cherries.
They’ve been audible for days, making their musical ‘tiddly-oo’ call in the trees.
They sound quite near but despite looking hard for them I’ve only ever glimpsed one once. It was so striking – a male, yellow all over except for black wings and tail – that it looked unnatural, as if it ought to have been in a tropical forest.
Yesterday we went out for an hour or so and in that time all the cherries which I’d hoped to nurse to ripeness completely vanished.
A few were left on the ground, with stalks snapped through, and one or two were obviously inaccessible even to an acrobatic bird.
This was our best cherry crop ever (I speak comparatively) and we did get a few but they’re a lot nicer ripe.
It would be just like those orioles to deny us even the sight of them in the orchard. The jays and crows are more blatant which is why this time they’re not my number one suspects.
The orioles will be eating the wild cherries now, with their beady eyes on the nectarines …
A few hot, prickly afternoons went into picking white currants and gooseberries and further hours stripping and top-and-tailing.
From which came 5 small jars of gooseberry jam (reasonably enough), and 2 small jars of precious white currant jelly.
The white currants were extremely plentiful this year and in their raw state filled 3 ice cream tubs, so what happened? Isn’t this the miracle of the loaves and fishes in reverse?
No, because the white currant pulp was a major ingredient in 4 moist and delicious cakes!