A short evening fresh-air excursion across the Lots to the Cove. Once again the sun was shining brightly, having sunk low enough in the sky to be below the leaden clouds which were dotted about. On the Lots I was entertained by some restless goldfinches and by the mastery of a windhover:
in his riding / Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding / High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing, / As a skate’s heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding / Rebuffed the big wind.
On the wall above the Cove, the ivy is flowering. This wasp, covered in pollen, is keeping it’s side of the bargain.
I think that this hoverfly…
might be Ferdinandea cuprea.
From the Cove.