I've been seeing photos posted by friends in the last couple of days, showing Painted Lady butterflies on their buddleia, or whatever, and I've read that we can expect an unusually large number to visit this country this year in their migration, but I hadn't actually seen any for myself and felt a tad miffed. Until this morning, when I drove through a cloud of them at the end of the lane, fluttering up the windscreen, over the roof of the car ... so once I'd taken Mr PB to the ferry and come home again I went on foot to have a look. It's not really easy to capture on a phone the sense of a bush alive with bees and, yes, butterflies, for that's what it was, but this individual is the best I could manage.
A morning spent otherwise in gardening - pruning the philadelphus, mostly - and in having lunch in the hot garden. Then fat raindrops landed on my newspaper and drove me in; the lightning and thunder started rolling around, and I went a damp walk along the beach with my pal - both of us in crops and sandals with our waterproofs, like a couple of superannuated kids.
Rather fun, really.