Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Dancing in the Rain, more ladybirds and Nigella

A warm rain shower inspired our little one to become one with nature, she danced for nearly an hour.

Most days you can find one of us peering at our maple.  First it was a mass of aphids.  Then there were lady bird eggs. Then we watched the ladybird larvae emerge and grow, leaving their shed skins behind them. Finally the much anticipated lady bird pupa have arrived

I'm not sure if something very unladylike like is happening here. It looks like the larvae is eating the pupa, gasp.

 There are also masses of larvae around but not many aphids left for them to eat. 

I've moved some larvae to the cherry tree where they seem to be helping, they're great at getting to those spots you can't reach.  I tried a soap spray but this had little effect on the aphids on my cherry, they seem tougher than your average aphid, with a black shiny coat. I've also brought some badly affected cherry leaves up to the maple.  It's amazing how quickly they cover the aphid infested leaves. 

 Nibbling on sweet alpine strawberries.
 Smelling Mock Orange 
Admiring the masses of Love in the Mist, this one with welcome guests, it is a little weedy but I do love it. Spent a significant part of the weekend pulling it out of a friend's garden who is not so enamoured with its charms. Has anyone heard of the seed being edible?
Found this on Wikipedia

"Nigella sativa (and not N. damascena) is the source of the spice variously known as nigella, kalonji or black cumin".

More interesting facts on Nigella here - http://www.theepicentre.com/Spices/nigella.html


  1. Love your little one's dance...such minds full of wonder aren't they?
    I love the smell of mock orange too....it's wafting in our bathroom at the moment..just gorgeous.Not sure about the weed being edible sorry!

  2. And here I was thinking you were posting on Nigella Lawson!


In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.
Margaret Atwood

“She turned to the sunlight
And shook her yellow head,
And whispered to her neighbour:
"Winter is dead.”
― A.A. Milne, When We Were Very Young