Pick a Colour (Election day)

Our friend who died in March was, at heart, a zoologist. Today we met up with his daughter, a biology teacher. She, in turn, has a daughter, two-and-a-half, a fireball of energy. She was not there today but, of course, we spoke of her. Her mother described with pride her interest in the natural world, and her eye for detail. It's not just a flower, it's a daffodil. And, remarkably, it's not just a butterfly, or even a yellow butterfly, it's a brimstone. Nature or nurture? I have my suspicions

I could show her this as a trick question. But the joke is on me because, although it is not a brimstone butterfly, it is a brimstone moth. I've not been aware of them before, but I read that, although they are widespread, they are usually night-flying, so not seen that much. Perhaps my cutting the beech hedge disturbed it from daytime slumber. If it flies by night, it probably doesn't see colours, and it certainly doesn't have a good grip on camouflage

Our discussions included the possibility of our young friend's family moving to a country where large non-violent protests recently helped to see off an attempted right-wing, authoritarian take-over, in defiance of the country's parliament (Korea). That must feel refreshing