Every year we have 11 days of holiday which everyone must take, on top of contractual allowances. Tomorrow and Tuesday are two of these. They are called 'beach days' as that is often where people have gone on these days before. However, as it is early May, the weather is unpredictable, to say the least. Perhaps that is why only a relatively small fraction of the staff and volunteers decided to go. They tend to be the Club 18-30 members.
They set off yesterday for Arcachon, and others set off for the South of France, Germany and Paris. Suddenly, although there is a small programme going on, the place seems very quiet. I took an afternoon walk yesterday. It was cloudy but not cold, not raining either, and as it was Saturday, no pounding sounds were coming from the quarry. The atmosphere was still, and I walked up the 'allee', the old tree-lined carriageway.
I stopped to look at fresh galls forming on oak leaves. These are tough little balls, caused by a parasitic wasp that injects its egg into the leaf bud. Somehow it messes with the leaf-building routine in the leaf and it forms a hard ball, in which the wasp larvae will grow, eventually eating its way out, leaving just the woody ball behind.
Then I noticed a small green caterpillar hanging from a silken thread, inches from my face. As my focus expanded, I saw dozens more of them hanging from the oak trees around me. I suppose they disperse through the tree canopy by spinning out these threads and then getting blown onto a different tree or part of the tree.
Nature has a quite magical quality at times, and for me, this was one of those times. Everywhere I looked, life was bursting out: the horses rolling, seemingly gleeful, in the neighbour's field; the craneflies crazy flight, the endless variety of birdsong. I was glad I had not gone to the beach. I felt lonely and blessed.
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