The bee spread its wings and managed to take off from the hot flagstones… rising a mere inch before landing again. I watched him try and fail to achieve lift off several times over the next few minutes. He obviously had a problem.

“You’re braver than me,” said my son, as I let the bee crawl onto my hand and carried him over to the loosestrife, which, being full of flowers, nectar and dew would give him a safe place to rest, feed and recover.

The colourful, hairy caterpillar was doing its best and moving at a fair rate. It was obviously none too happy in the blast of direct sunlight… you could imagine that its tiny feet were speeding across the window because they were uncomfortably hot. It can have had no idea that the patio doors would take it so far from safety, food and shelter when it…