ON GOSSAMER WINGS

This is the third day at the rosemary bush. More immediate photo ops cropped up before. The variety of creatures flitting about is astonishing, particularly since we had almost none all summer. I didn't really want to do a bee, but I wanted a pic of shimmering wings. It's too zoomed for fine focus, drat.

My favourite pic is of a butterfly on wild rocket but I wanted something with gossamer wings. The reason is that I only just found out the origin of the word, gossamer. It's a favourite of mine, as it is with other airy-fairy writers and poets.

At this time of year the earth is tilted so that the sun seems to scuttle along the edges. It casts long shadows. This lights the spiderwebs spun in the grass and everywhere else a spider might earn a decent living. And yes, I do remember them glittering in the morning dew but can I find any this year? No, but a lot of blippers can and with spectacular results.

In England, in early November, a saint's day was once celebrated by going to church, of course, and having roast goose to eat. The weather was often unseasonably mild and so it was known as "goose summer."

I assume people would see the glittering spider webs, nod, and say to each other "goose summer" and in the way of languages, it got shortened to gossamer. Its real meaning is fine spider silk.

So there's a lesson in etymology via entymology but you can forget I said that.

And here is the butterfly on wild rocket: Butterfly.