I tested negative for Covid yesterday, which seemed a good enough reason for eating cake, so at lunch time today R and I went out. But even though all the coughing and spluttering has stopped I'm still far from fully restored, and by the time I'd walked around the village this afternoon, searching the ivy hedges for invertebrates, I was feeling tired and low. Also, the migraine headache I had all around my left eye yesterday has concentrated itself today into a very sore and swollen eyelid (presumably another weird-but-not-wonderful Covid symptom), which makes photography quite uncomfortable. Right now I'm feeling as though I need to find myself a new pastime, but I'm trying to stay calm, and work on the assumption that order will be restored to the universe in due course.
I still can't be sure where I picked up this infection, given that apart from family and the other members of my choir I virtually never speak to anyone with fewer than six legs, but as R and the rest of the family have stayed Covid-free this time, choir seems to be the likeliest venue. Which makes Wednesday's rehearsal a less than enticing prospect, and gives me some more thinking to do about my future.
And - breathe...
Of the few photos I took this afternoon, this image of a female Eristalis tenax is my favourite, because despite the freezing effect of the flash it still has a slight sense of movement. It was crazily windy along the hedge where I took the photo, and a hint of blurring in some of the ivy stamens says that the whole ensemble was moving, rather than just the hoverfly - but used as I am to the nectar-feeding frenzy that goes on throughout ivy season, this still works for me as a depiction of a drone fly sugar rush.
Before I go, I'd like to remind you that Tiny Tuesday has rolled round again. There's no theme, so please just hit me with a close-up photo of something small, tagging it TT386 so that I can find it when I go looking for my favourites of the week on Thursday.