The field is stippled with mole hills
and I am glad
I am not an ant
I could also be glad that I was in the sunny field and not in the distance beyond, where the sky is decidedly ominous. And that we’ve had a few mostly dry days and I wasn’t knee-deep in mud trying to get a decent picture. And that they were mole hills not cow pats…
There are, as has been pointed out by others, many reasons to be cheerful.
It seems wrong not to post to the blog with a poem for the Perseid meteor shower. Unfortunately, I don’t have any shooting-stars poems that haven’t been posted previously. Instead, the best I’ve come up with is a picture of this glorious miniature sun which is currently flowering in my back garden:
As I said in “what’s been bugging me“, the local insects may be impressive, but most of them aren’t very colourful – at least not the ones who sit still long enough for me to take pictures. That’s what I like about flower photography: the subject doesn’t run away when you point a camera at it.
At the moment, though, there aren’t many blooms around to brighten the blog pages. It’s partly because of the heat – all the vivid wildflowers of a month or so ago have dried back to straw, and even in the garden the few plants that are in flower are mostly wilting and ragged.
But it’s the insects who are responsible for the chewed petals and holey leaves, so I’m in two minds when I see a bright bug to know if I want it to stay put for a photo or hop, crawl or fly away and leave my plants alone. 
St. Swithin’s day if thou dost rain
For forty days it will remain;
St. Swithin’s day if thou be fair
For forty days ’twill rain nae mair
Judging from the colour of the sky behind the apples, we’re in for a long hot summer.
Instead they tell me today is San Buenaventura, a saint known for his “simplicity, humility and charity”. Since he seems unlikely to provide the rain needed for apple christening, perhaps it’s just as well we fixed the tap in the orchard at the weekend.
don't confuse the narrator 