Still, a nice haul with some Very Pretty Ones, a selection of which I shall now share with you...
OK, so from this angle maybe "pretty" isn't the word that springs immediately to mind. This is a Broad Bordered Yellow Underwing, who, believe it or not, is strikingly marked when seen from the top. Just happens to look a bit gormless from the front.
Same moth from a more flattering angle. Note the stripy tights. I may have to get a pair like that for winter myself...
Oh dear. I'm not doing much to convince you on the pretty front am I? I love the white eyebrows and the punk-rocker hair do. Here he is from a better angle...
Yes! It's our old friend, the rather splendid Frosted Orange
And just in case you haven't had enough Frosted Oranges, here he is from the side as well
More orange moths (in keeping with the season), this one a Centre-Barred Sallow
And this one is a Sallow (without the centre-bar)
Continuing the orange theme (sort of), here is a Lesser Yellow Underwing, flashing the distinctive petticoats that give these moths their name. Whatever happened to petticoats? I love the idea of them. I would get one, were it not for the fact that I don't think they are really designed to go with jeans and I might therefore look a bit ridiculous in it. Incidentally, my sister refuses to wear yellow in any form ever since she fell off her pony and broke her leg when she ten (see this post). She was wearing yellow pants at the time, and I've always thought her loathing of yellow as a result a tad harsh, I mean, she was also wearing lots of other colours too so I have no idea why the yellow pants in particular were singled out. I must ask her.
Getting on with the moths in the meantime...
This one is a Feathered Gothic. New to the box over the last 2-3 weeks, I think they are beautiful.
Ermmmm...? Any suggestions as to this one's name? (not Clive, Denise)
I know what this one is: it's a faded Green Carpet and in real life is extremely tiny wee with a wingspan of about 10mm. Pretty, no?
The imaginatively named Snout, who has lovely markings nonetheless.
White Point (how do they come up with these names?)
Rosy Rustic (how marvellous if that was your real name? You know just what kind of girl at school she would be too.)
And finally, the delicate and ethereal Light Emerald, of whom there were three in the box in various stages of perfection, (or falling-apartness, depending on your view).
I'm now up to 286 moth species for 2013, tantalisingly close to my target of 300, but will I make it?
The only other thing of merit I've done today is go and have a Reiki session with my friend Amanda, who has recently learned the original Japanese form. It was an interesting experience, and at the risk of losing those among you who consider this sort of thing a bit airy-fairy, I did see some interesting colours when she started working (yellow turning to purple turning to green), felt warmth spread through me and tingles in my head and toes, and found my thoughts eventually sorting through some knotted things that needed sorting through, so all in all it was a good and interesting session and one I expect I will repeat.
Wishing you all a peaceful evening. We have several hundred University Challenge episodes recorded on the digibox to wade through here which we will doubtless resume battling through this evening. M drives me mad by shouting out the answers before the question has finished regardless of whether he actually knows them or not, just so I don't get a chance to have a go. Or by shouting "planck" or "dostoevsky" in the belief that they're bound to be the answer some time.
Our usual division of correctness is that he gets all the impossibly complex (and for that read stupid and pointless) maths and science questions (eg: what's the square root of the universe if p=9 and z=a tangerine and a monkey was playing the banjo at the time to an audience of millipeeds) right, while I know a smattering of the more obscure ones to do with parts of the body no sane person has ever heard of and never needs to know the name for, and the identities of various heroines from dubious literary canon works.
You can imagine what the atmosphere in our house is like during the half hour the programme is on. And Paxman doesn't help by raising his eyebrows in particularly patronising incredulity when a contestant has a reasonable stab at a question no-one's ever heard of before and gets it wrong. Perhaps I'll get the fabled crochet blanket out and blow the dust off it and do that instead.