I Have No Time To Stand And Stare...................

.............but I do it anyway!   Each day I promise myself that I will catch up with the work left over from the day before, but then the sun rises on another beautiful day, and all my promises are forgotten.  

Today I went for a brisk walk, or at least it was supposed to be one.  It is easy to walk briskly when the wind harries you from all directions, and the warmth and shelter of a house seems like an attractive proposition, but when the day is calm, and gentle, it seems only right that I should mirror its mood.  I started to saunter within minutes of beginning the walk, and a half hour walked turn into an hour and a half.   How could I pass by that delicate cobweb that glistened with the diamond dew drops?  I had to stand and stare, and admire its beauty! And then there were the translucent wings on the sapphire-backed fly: such exquisiteness on such a maligned little creature, a charm that is missed without a macro lens or a magnifying glass.  I came to the shimmering sheet of yellow Lesser Celandine and sat on the ground to get a better view.  The sun warmed my back and made that small section of the world appear golden.  In the distance skylarks sang their beautiful melody.  Ah, such bliss!  

And then, treasure of all treasures, I spotted an Oil Beetle!  I had been trying to photograph this little chap for years without success, and there he was, near the top of a bank in good view.  Lots of photos were an essential item -  not that I hadn't taken lots already, but you know how it is when obsession takes over! :-)  He is such an interesting beetle: the female lays thousands of tiny eggs in holes and cracks on the ground.  Eventually these eggs hatch out into larvae with long legs.  The larvae then climb over plants and await their victim: a wild bee.  The only larvae that survive will be the ones that manage to find a host.  They will be taken back to the wild bees nest and will devour the eggs and grubs, and eventually the store of honey, once they have changed into grubs themselves.  They overwinter as headless, legless maggots, then once again change shape before finally pupating.  The adults eat buttercup plants and can be seen on heaths and open grassland. 

Isn't he a beauty?

All pleasant days have to come to an end, and as dusk fell, the cry of my husband could be heard ringing out loud and clear: "What the hell have you been doing all day, or should I say not doing!"