Buttercup Year

Every year is different in this Country, and certainly the Winters vary, with 2010 being a tough one. For some reason that I don’t understand, all the blossom trees that survived were more spectacular than usual, and they say that fruit trees are wonderful (more Coxs apples, good). My windows look out onto a small field, and it was so dazzling with dandelions that it was beautiful whenever there was sunshine. The ‘clock’ stage makes the field quite scruffy, but after that has blown itself clean again, there are buttercups masses of them, and that’s what is giving me delight at present. The grass is fresh but still not so tall as the buttercups, which float and sway over it. As the day ends, I notice martins and swallows whizzing to and fro, just above the flowers and making happy sounds. Later than that, when it is nearly as dark as it gets on these June nights, I have been marvelling at the gradual appearance of Ghost Moths , maybe hundreds of them. In a short time from seeing none at all, I spot a glimmer of paleness moving up the stem of a tall plant, to be followed by crowds of others to silently fly here and there, to and fro, over the buttercups and illustrating why they have their name. They are so beautiful, and I love to watch them on a still night; I’ll be watching tonight once more.

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