Just wandered out to get an image I needed of the sky and found the buddleja covered in butterflies, including this beautiful Painted Lady, Vanessa cardui. I didn’t know they were migrants too. Along with the geese and the cuckoos and the robins and the starlings and the …
I’ve got a horrible feeling that if we ever did stop all freedom of movement we’d die of lonely silent hungry thirsty brain-dead BOREDOM.
One of a few Rose Chafers we saw patrolling the brambles, beautiful jewel-like scarabs (their vivid green produced structurally by left-circularly-polarised light rather than pigment, he said), Cetonia aurata, on the cliffs between Cape Cornwall and Sennen Cove.
There were clouds of butterflies in the fields behind the cliffs but the only one who was vain enough to pose for long was a male Gatekeeper, Pyronia tithonus.
And a herd of magnificent time-slipped English Longhorns.
The work I’m doing at the moment starts with a grid … well, no: it starts with an image which is then translated into a grid … well, no: several independent grids … aye aye aye, whatever — I need my grid. It’s where I start.
And it’s not just a pretext — the grid has to work on its own, to dance and to tell tales, even if I’m the only one to hear them.
But this one tickled me more than most — getting better at this. Two days ago I was convinced I’d bitten off more than I could chew … and then …
I’m sure I’m a bit weird but I find this strangely rewarding and the making of it as much like a dance as I am comfortable with — so here’s my Cornwall Boogie Woogie, Piet.
Filling the sky in the south and east … can feel it coming — a heavy blast of hot humid air blowing before it. Apparently it’s not going to be too bad, just very wet but we’re a little exposed up here and they always makes us anxious. I suppose we could all do with the water but … and but — dribs and drabs would be so dull, damp and English
Leccy off in the studio this evening I think.
Beauty and the Beast.
The dipsacus all over the farm are all doing their beautifully raggedy rising tide flowering at the moment.
But beware those thorns — they’re lethal.
This year will definitely go down as … winter, spring and summer — feels like half the year has been shrouded, occulted, drained and drowned in fog.
Here condensing in jewels, as is its wont, on an alchemilla mollis in the yard.
Is that a colour combo to die for or what? Furtive little nasturtium weaving its way through the herbs.