Butterflies’ burst of colour are among nature’s blessings and they are all free

Something brushed past my ear and landed with a distinct thump on the window as I sat wondering how I would start this week’s column. I’ve said it before, and this confirmed it again, that nature writes the column for me.

My visitor was a Painted Lady butterfly and I was so delighted to see it because there’s been a worrying absence of the attractive insects in the garden.

Advised long ago that a blue buddleia bush with its long spikes of sweet scented blossom was a great attraction for butterflies, we planted one. It has been a great success and we planted a white buddleia several years later. Over the years they have brought not only butterflies but also honey bees and bumble bees and all the other pollinating insects into the garden.

But things have been much changed this year and all we’ve seen have been a few Small Whites and a single Peacock, and not a sight yet of a colourful Red Admiral.

In the past it’s been Small Tortoiseshell butterflies that I’ve found in the house. They come indoors to hibernate over winter and the warmth of the central heating has woken them up prematurely.

They blunder about the windows trying to get outdoors where the cold weather would be the death of them. They just have to be left to find another dark corner to fall asleep again until the warm spring weather wakes them up once more.

I got a wine glass to trap my Painted Lady which was crashing about the window in its efforts to reach freedom. Eventually I trapped her and she – or it might be he – is returned to its proper element.

There’s heat in the sun from early in the morning and the Doyenne and I are enjoying taking our breakfast outdoors. Hamish lies stretched out beside us until he gets too hot and we have to chase him into the shade. He creeps under our chairs in the vain hope that we are messy eaters and will drop something tasty for him to gobble up.

The Doyenne and I are lucky to have so many wonderful views on our doorstep. The view from the top of Stracathro Brae is just such a one, and more often than not I’ll stop for a moment to take in the panorama up and down the broad fertile valley of Strathmore towards the bellmouth of Glenesk and the Hill of Wirren, the highest point between Glenesk and Glen Lethnot.

Driving home from getting a haircut in Montrose the sun was still in the east, throwing the foothills of the Braes of Angus into sharp focus. Combining had started and there was a patchwork of stubbles and fields of butter-golden barley yet to be harvested. The hymnist was maybe over pessimistic when he wrote “every prospect pleases and only man is vile”. But I know where he was coming from.

The hills stood out clear and sharp in a cloudless cornflower blue sky. Half a dozen sleek, glossy horses ambled over to introduce themselves and pass the time of day. The fields of yellow ripening barley glowed in the strong sun, highlighting the dark green of the summer foliage. It was good to be out and it all just confirmed why we would never want to live anywhere else.

I heard a comment once that some people get stressed when they run out of pavement, so they don’t so much as venture into the countryside. What a waste. Nature’s blessings are our blessings – and they are free.

We are lucky to have generous friends with large gardens who grow more than they can use themselves. The Doyenne was invited to pick redcurrants which was timely as she was running low on the tasty jelly which we have as an accompaniment to lamb. I don’t know whether redcurrants are bad for dogs’ digestions but, for safety, we stopped Hamish tucking into the low hanging berries.

Driving home from our berry picking I turned left at the finger post to the Caterthuns – the White Caterthun and the Brown Caterthun. The view from the crest of the hill where the road runs between the two old forts is another of my favourites.

Ahead are the three peaks of the Hill of Wirren and westwards the road goes on to Hunthill and stops at Waterhead. Thereafter you are on foot.

But we drove eastwards to Edzell. I was looking forward to a bowl of the Doyenne’s homemade soup for lunch. Edzell Castle is still closed, much to the disappointment of my Australian cousins who had marked it as one of their “must see” sights of historical interest on their recent visit.

As I wondered how to wind up this week’s column I walked round to the buddleias. There were two Large Whites, one Small White and five Peacocks busily feeding, justifying the buddleia’s name of the butterfly bush. The butterflies were back.

Hills stood out clear and sharp in cloudless cornflower blue sky

EVERY PROSPECT PLEASES: A glorious summer morning with horses for company on a trip through the Angus countryside.