Buíóg Chróch

A horrible wet morning followed by a very pleasant afternoon. I purchased stuff for Christmas cake making, left the fruit to soak in some whisky and then went for a gentle amble around the circuit. The fly agarics from the other day were looking the worst for wear, disintegrating into scummy puddles; fallen copper beech leaves shone in wayside puddles, the water gushed down the little river and more rivulets made interesting shapes in the sand. But it was this chap who caught my eye. He's something very special - a Clouded Yellow , and not seen very often. Some were spotted in the summer and caused a bit of a stir, but he should surely be in bed by now. I pursued him up the lane, hoping he would open his mustard coloured wings in the sunshine but he wouldn't.