Blue

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I was intending to post the 10-spot ladybird I found noodling around the photinia this morning, because it’s always nice to see one of the less common ladybirds. But every time I look at this weevil in its little dark boots I find myself smiling, and I know that R loves it too, so in the end I’ve relegated the ladybird to the extras. I can’t tell you very much about the weevil except that it’s called Oxystoma pomonae, and it’s usually found in association with various forms of vetch, which are its preferred larval foodplants. I can’t think why it would be hanging about in my garden, but it’s possible that it (or its wife) may have laid its eggs into the pods of my perennial pea. This specimen was about 3mm long, and and didn’t care at all for having its photo taken.

It’s National Poetry Day here in the UK, and I hope that these lines by Mary Oliver, the great American poet of the natural world, might speak to you as much as they do to me:

When loneliness comes stalking, go into the fields, consider
the orderliness of the world.

Notice something you have never noticed before,
like the tambourine sound of the snow-cricket
whose pale green body is no longer than your thumb.

Stare hard at the hummingbird, in the summer rain,
shaking the water-sparks from its wings.

Let grief be your sister, she will wither or not.
Rise up from the stump of sorrow, and be green also,
like the diligent leaves.

A lifetime isn’t long enough for the beauty of this world
and the responsibilities of your life.

Scatter your flowers over the graves, and walk away.
Be good-natured and untidy in your exuberance.

In the glare of your mind, be modest.
And beholden to what is tactile, and thrilling.

Live with the beetle, and the wind.

Excerpt from The Leaf and the Cloud: a Poem
Mary Oliver (1935-2019)