Suddenly the moths of July are all over the balcony. And, as I seem to be having an Emily Dickinson moment, here is another poem from her, an observer and praiser of the creation.
ANSWER JULY
Answer July—
Where is the Bee—
Where is the Blush—
Where is the Hay?
Ah, said July—
Where is the Seed—
Where is the Bud—
Where is the May—
Answer Thee—Me—
Nay—said the May—
Show me the Snow—
Show me the Bells—
Show me the Jay!
Quibbled the Jay—
Where be the Maize—
Where be the Haze—
Where be the Bur?
Here—said the Year—
https://poets.org/poem/answer-july
Had Emily asked July "Where be the moth", it could have pointed her to our balcony. The photo above, taken of course by Captain Butterfly, is of one of our recent visitors - a Rosy Footman. Our July has had storms, and a frightening heatwave in Southern Europe. It has been cooler here, for which I am grateful.
The family visitors should start arriving today, all being well. The little girls love being by sea and playground, as I did when I was young. Well, there was no playground in the wild Cornwall of the 1950s, nor was one needed. The large and empty sandy beach with its fascinating rockpools was enough.
It was a dangerous sea though - very dangerous. So our parents must have had to keep a very close eye on us. Which of course you have to do with any small child near any kind of water anyway.
Didn't sleep at all well Wednesday night, and woke up Thursday morning with a very painful foot. So its back on the paracetamol. It is being a bit of a medical week again as I am composing letters to my GP about my eyes and to Dermatology asking for more meds if they can't give me any more appointments and running them past Captain B, who usually does some editing - and improves them, which is quite annoying given that I am the English Grad. He is Science - Zoology.
The meeting on Thursday night was so good, so comforting, so upbuilding. How do people cope without this teaching? The sad answer is that more and more are simply not coping - and no wonder.
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