Is this a Painted Lady Summer? I ask because this immigrant butterfly has a habit of coming here in waves and one of them was way back in the late 1950s when I saw one in Harlow Carr gardens at Harrogate. It was my first 'exotic' butterfly after a humdrum diet of 'Cabbage' Whites, Red Admirals, Small Tortoiseshells and Peacocks - the last three very fine butterflies but common. The Painted Lady was something else, a subtle mixture of tawny, honey and pink and very fast-flying; naturally my brother and our sisters giggled about its name as well. I can conjure up the sighting still today.
My composite picture above was taken at Oxford Parkway train station where good landscape-gardening with lavender and other shrubs is complemented by a lovely verge of wildflowers beside a ramped walkway up the embankment to the bus stop. The butterflies were romping between the two and we had luckily left enough time between bus and train - the first stages of a journey to Boston, Mssachusetts - for me to stalk them. They tend to be jittery and not rest for long.
The heatwave sun was still beating down as we came into Wembley Stadium station an hour later and there on the tracks was another Painted Lady scooting about. And now, ten days later, here is a further one roosting on one of our hanging baskets where it came to rest after jinking about so dementedly that at first I thought that it was a day-flying moth.
I checked on it at 3.32pm and 7.52pm that day ad it was still there, completely inert and unfussed by my parting the lobelia to get a picture. Ditto at 7.17am the next day. But when I went cycling off an errand at midday, it had gone.



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