It had been a strange summer, quite unsettling at times. I have had days of being very tired, falling-asleep-on-the-sofa-at-midday-tired, which wasn’t like me at all. Life had been like a juggernaut crashing down the mountain last month. Slowly but steadily I was trying my very best to get my mojo back. And the best place was in the garden. Our garden was lush at the moment, overflowing with blooms, The roses seemed to be a bit late but they were making up for their arrival in abundance. There were also lavender, dahlias, clematis, fuchsias, sweet peas, hydrangeas, stocks, geraniums, firethorn, rudbeckia, begonias, crocosmia etc. When we stepped into the garden, we were assailed by the most gorgeous aroma. Everywhere you looked, there was magic happening. Lots of blooms, a feast for the eyes and soul.
Count your garden by the flowers,
Never by the leaves that fall.
Count your days by golden hours,
Don't remember clouds at all . . .
Count your nights by stars, not shadows,
Count your life with smiles, not tears.
And all throughout your lifetime,
Count your age by friends, not years.
-~Anon~
We also have been enjoying ripening strawberries and raspberries from our tiny garden one handful at a time. Nothing tasted better than enjoying your home-grown juicy berries freshly picked with the warmth of the sun still on its flesh. Check out those gorgeously sweet and ruby coloured raspberries. I don’t use any chemicals or insecticides. Everything was organic. Slugs, snails and caterpillars were rampant. I lost all the broccoli to the white butterfly caterpillars cos I saw them laying their eggs. But if you want butterflies into your garden, you have to share :-). 
“Strawberries are the angels of the earth.
innocent and sweet with green leafy wings
reaching heavenward
~Terri Guillemets~
July was the noisiest month of the year in the garden. From the first light, birdsongs filled the air giving a true sense of the garden being alive. Young house sparrows, dunnocks, robins, collared doves, pigeons, starlings and blackbirds were everywhere and I loved watching them scratching about under the bird-feeder. The sparrows would come to the bird bath for a drink and a bath continuously cheeping and chirping as they fly off to squabble in the bushes. We have a bird-feeder full of nijer seeds for the Goldfinches hanging on the arch directly opposite the patio door. One morning, as I stood in front of the door, I found myself looking straight into the eyes of a young fledgling, waiting to be fed. It was so magical.
I was also very lucky to have seen the singing Melodious Warbler that got the local twitchers in a frenzy. It was spotted within an area of rank vegetation, saplings and gorse near Mercote Mill, opposite the Marsh Lane Nature Reserve. I was very grateful to my colleague, JW, for taking me there during our lunch break. We trekked on a bridleway for about 10 minutes before we heard the spectacular song some 150 metres away. Though it was singing almost continuously, we only saw the silhouette. Then it flew out to the top of the tree and I saw a pale-coloured beefy looking warbler in the very bright afternoon sunshine. It then belted out its fabulous song from various vantage points. It had been here for nearly 3 weeks and was still tenaciously holding territory in a vain attempt to attract a mate.
The rare visitor from Southern Europe performed well for a while before disappearing into the gorse bushes and immediately fell silent. I’m glad to have seen it and sample an avian taste of continental Europe right on my doorstep. It was a very obliging bird and was regularly singing its incredible varied song. It was a real joy to watch. This was only the 3rd record sighting for the West Midlands region.
Babe and I also popped over to Draycote Meadows, which was looking stunning in the sunshine. We missed the stunning green-winged orchids that bloomed in May. But it was still spectacular at the moment with flowers typical of old hay meadows such as the Common Spotted orchids, Yellow Rattle, Adders Tongue, Green-flowered Twayblade, Meadow buttercups, Meadow vetchling and Knapweed crammed into this place. This reserve was also the only site for the rare Moonworth Fern and I was hunting high and low for this among the riot of colours.The diversity of flowers supported a huge range of insects, butterflies and bees dancing across the meadows. We’d a wonderful time photographing them. Often, we just don’t know where to point our cameras.
The piece de resistance to this oasis was the Marbled White Butterfly, a distinctive medium-sized white butterfly with a black-chequered marking. Despite its name, it was more closely related to the subfamily known as the ‘browns’. They seemed to show marked preferences for purple flowers such as the thistles and knapweeds. We often found them, well camouflaged, roosting halfway down the tall grass stems and was flushed as we walked through.
Ringlets with their distinctive eyespots on their under-wings were absolutely everywhere and I still find it impossible to photograph them without being photo-bombed by the grasses. Other summer grassland butterflies such as the Small coppers, Common Blues, Small tortoiseshells, Meadow Browns, Speckled wood, Burnets, Skippers, Brimstone and Gatekeepers were fluttering effortlessly through the meadows with grace and serenity. Their delicate, colourful wings allowed them to silently soar through the air like confetti floating in the wind. Since ancient times, butterflies had been considered symbols of the soul, so it was no surprise that these flitting beauties had somehow managed to soothe my sad spirit.
This 5.5 hectare reserve had been designated a Site of Special Interest and as the best example of unimproved grassland remaining in Warwickshire. It consisted of 2 wildflower meadows surrounded by ancient hedgerows, a spring-fed stream with pockets of scrub and wet rushy grassland. These meadows owed their existence to medieval farming practices that created the distinctive ridge and furrow pattern on the landscape. They were superb examples of how the countryside looked before the 20th century agricultural improvement. In 2013, it had been declared the Coronation Meadow for the country of Warwickshire.
Thou spark of life that wavest wings of gold,
Thou songless wanderer mid the songful birds,
With Nature’s secrets in thy tints unrolled
Through gorgeous cipher, past the reach of words,
Yet dear to every child
In glad pursuit beguiled,
Living his unspoiled days mid flowers and flocks and herds!
Thou winged blossom, liberated thing,
What secret tie binds thee to other flowers,
Still held within the garden’s fostering?
Will they too soar with the completed hours,
Take flight, and be like thee
Irrevocably free,
Hovering at will o’er their parental bowers?
Or is thy lustre drawn from heavenly hues,—
A sumptuous drifting fragment of the sky,
Caught when the sunset its last glance imbues
With sudden splendor, and the tree-tops high
Grasp that swift blazonry,
Then lend those tints to thee,
On thee to float a few short hours, and die?
Birds have their nests; they rear their eager young,
And flit on errands all the livelong day;
Each fieldmouse keeps the homestead whence it sprung;
But thou art Nature’s freeman,—free to stray
Unfettered through the wood,
Seeking thine airy food,
The sweetness spiced on every blossomed spray.
The garden one wide banquet spreads for thee,
O daintiest reveller of the joyous earth!
One drop of honey gives satiety;
A second draught would drug thee past all mirth.
Thy feast no orgy shows;
Thy calm eyes never close,
Thou soberest sprite to which the sun gives birth.
And yet the soul of man upon thy wings
Forever soars in aspiration; thou
His emblem of the new career that springs
When death’s arrest bids all his spirit bow.
He seeks his hope in thee
Of immortality.
Symbol of life, me with such faith endow!
~Thomas Wentworth Higginson Ode to a Butterfly~
The holy month of Ramadan had always been a quiet affair for us. Because breaking the fast was very late at 9.30 pm, there was no hustle bustle of rushing home to prepare the meals. It was a challenge because I’m usually in bed by 11 pm and my tummy was still full. During the fasting month, it was recommended to have a pre-dawn meal which was around 4 am. Babe would wake me up before he goes to sleep at about 2 am where I would have a glass of water. Fasting for 17 hours in the height of summer was very challenging and testing but syukur alhamdulillah, I was able to fulfill my obligations. After 30 days, the new moon was sighted and Muslims around the world celebrated Syawal, the 10th month of the Islamic calendar on the 17th of July.
It was narrated that Jubayr ibn Nufayr said : When the companions of the Prophet (SAW) met one another on the day of Eid, they would say to one another
“May Allah accept (good deeds) from us and from you”
~Al_Fath 2:446
I took leave on the auspicious day to contemplate and gather my thoughts. I called my father to wish him Eid Mubarak and we shed a few tears for my beloved mother. The celebrations back home was very subdued too. Everyone had gathered at my parents home and then visited her grave to say some prayers and put flowers. We missed you so much, Emak.
Babe and I celebrated by going out for a drive to Fermyn Woods Country Park which was situated in the heart of the Rockingham Forest. We parked beside a play area which had a zip wire running across it. It was so tempting to give it a try but I don’t want to frighten off the little and not so little kiddies. After paying £3 for parking and using the facilities, I went into the Skylark cafe for information about the reason why we were here. We were searching for His Majesty, the Purple Emperor butterflies. We were given a map and instructions but they were as clear as mud.
We ambled into the 15 hectares park which boasted of woodlands, meadows, thickets, marshes and ponds. We tried to make sense of the information boards and the colour-coded trail which somehow don’t relate to the map. Although the day started off overcast, it brightened around midday to produce a glorious afternoon. We came across a clearing and it was butterfly paradise. As gaps in the clouds passed over, there were plenty of butterflies on the wing: Ringlets and Gatekeepers abound around the grasses and brambles; dainty black-and-orange Commas and plain Whites haunt the sunlit bushes; stunning red Admirals swoop from the soil to canopy. A pair of Red Kites were a constant companion throughout our stay. Several day flying moths were also on the wing.We decided not to go further and walked back to the car when a tantalising glimpse of what we assumed to be his Majesty whirling around at the top of an Ash tree. Unfortunately, it was just too fast for us and we lost him. Grrrrr
Butterflies go fluttering by
On colored wings that catch the eye.
On wings of orange, and silvery blue,
On wings of golden yellow, too.
Butterflies float in the air,
Making their homes most anywhere:
The rainforest, field, and prairie land,
On mountaintops, and desert sand.
If winter brings the cold and snow,
To warmer climates, off they go!
Returning home the following spring,
Beautiful butterflies on the wing!
Author Unknown
We’d lunch in the park when a police car parked in front of us and put up a notice warning visitors not to leave any valuables visible in their car. A good reminder. We then drove off the A6116 between Corby and Thrapston towards the gliding club and park opposite it where we finally located Fermyn Woods. We started walking down the main track, along ancient woodlands that contained semi-natural oak and ash woods, plus conifer plantations. We kept on looking up because the Purple emperor spend most of his time in the woodland canopy. But unfortunately, we weren’t graced by his majesty. 
Instead a White Admiral, a stunning woodland butterfly was on the ground feeding on salts and minerals from the moist earth.. From a distance, the wings were black/dark brown with a band of white but on closer inspection, subtle patterns and colouration appeared in the dark areas of the wings. The undersides were more colourful, sky blue near the body with a dark red/brown and white band corresponding to the upper wing pattern. We stood there mesmerised with this beauty before it flew off, gliding in the dappled sunlight. It made our trip worthwhile just to see this.
At work, I celebrated Eid with fellow Muslims from around the world at the Postgraduate Hub (or PG Hub) which was the heart of the postgraduate community in the University. The Hub provided spaces to many social and cultural events. The main host to the event were a group of Malaysian students who did an amazing job with the decorations and food. They dressed beautifully in colourful traditional costumes and provided a slide show on how Eid was celebrated back home. And then we were invited to sample the delicious food. Apart from the traditional Malay dishes, there were food from Iran, Indonesia, Yemen and Pakistan. Yum … Yum.
We ended the week with a visit to Coombe Abbey Country Park and we weren’t alone. The car-park was overflowing and to make matters worse, there was only one pay-and-display machine working. I tweeted a complaint about it and I received a reply that a notice was put up to inform visitors that payment was accepted at the visitor centre. But I couldn’t see any. We’d not been to this Park for ages and we walked a different path away from the throbbing crowds where we were gifted by this handsome Hawker sunbathing in the sun. 
Coombe Abbey Country Park offered 500 acres of beautiful gardens, woodland and lakeside walks. The diverse "Capability" Brown designed landscape made it ideal for everyone, from families to wildlife enthusiasts and those just looking for a quiet stroll in the woodland. There was a queue for donkey rides by the lake. We checked out the lake which was covered with algae for any unusual birds but only the usual culprits were about.
We didn’t walk to the bird-hide because we knew that it was going to be full and noisy. So we checked out the wildflower meadow which stretched for quite a distance. Unfortunately, we couldn’t walk the whole area because it had been such a warm day and the sun was right above our heads. Although we managed a small area, it was teeming with butterflies. We were also accompanied by a charm of Goldfinches busy twittering away.
A something in a summer’s Day
As slow her flambeaux burn away
Which solemnizes me.
A something in a summer’s noon —
A depth — an Azure — a perfume —
Transcending ecstasy.
And still within a summer’s night
A something so transporting bright
I clap my hands to see —
Then veil my too inspecting face
Lets such a subtle — shimmering grace
Flutter too far for me —
The wizard fingers never rest —
The purple brook within the breast
Still chafes it narrow bed —
Still rears the East her amber Flag —
Guides still the sun along the Crag
His Caravan of Red —
So looking on — the night — the morn
Conclude the wonder gay —
And I meet, coming thro’ the dews
Another summer’s Day
~Emily Dickinson~
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