Country diary: In poet John Clare’s garden, I contemplate my ancestor who lived here too | Nic Wilson. Helpston, Cambridgeshire: I picture Henry as a young lad, hiding in flowerbeds, chasing butterflies, learning to love natureIf there’s one thing better than a gatekeeper butterfly, it’s wild marjoram playing host to a flurry of gatekeepers.
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Trechos de apoio da pauta: Helpston, Cambridgeshire: I picture Henry as a young lad, hiding in flowerbeds, chasing butterflies, learning to love natureIf there’s one thing better than a gatekeeper butterfly, it’s wild marjoram playing host to a flurry of gatekeepers. Almost impossible to count for all the rising, fluttering and resettling, their warm orange and brown wings with white double-dots in a black eye-spot are only a wing-flick away from mottled invisibility: now you see me, now you don’t.I’m their lone admirer, sat on a mossy stone in the garden at John Clare cottage, but I don’t feel alone.
- Ponto de atenção: country.
- Ponto de atenção: diary.
- Ponto de atenção: poet.
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