A commonwealth of beetles inhabits the wayside weeds
by Paul Evans from on (#GFKS)
Country Diary: Wenlock Edge In the height of summer, insects of all shapes, sizes, colours and appetites can be found at the pollen feast
As if materialised from thin air, the beetles crowd upon the purple petals. The thistles are full of them. Along the path where dogs are walked, away from the reach of mowers, the weeds grow rank. Lush with rain and bold from neglect, the hogweeds, thistles, nettles and docks become a commonwealth of marvels.
High summer is house martins skimming over fine grasses on the hill meadow, where drifts of lady's bedstraw smell of joss sticks in the evening and field scabious, restharrow, harebell and centaury shine. But high summer is also the coarse, rude weeds of the wayside: the commonwealth of the commonplace.
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