Looking out of the rear window of a shop, I see a buddleia in full bloom surrounded, as it is supposed to be, but by no means always is, by butterflies. They are mostly whites. but, "look there's a painted lady," says the shopkeeper. And he is right. And there were more.
As I walk down Mount Pleasant after the Farmer's Market, I can still taste the little cube of a local Cheddar type cheese, which I sampled from one of the stalls. I think to myself that I should have bought some, but then, I reflect, that the fleeting aftertaste, is probably better and more memorable than the taste of a whole slice scoffed with bread or biscuits.
It is the fleeting moments/tastes that stay.
Word verif. = lolly
Now who's suffering from prousticitis?
Interesting about the painted lady, I was thinking of photographing some and asking if they were particularly abundant in southern England this year. I have never seen so many as this year; clouds of them in the spring, especially on our perennial wallflowers, and now another wave of them, slightly smaller but, I think, brighter. They are subject to these periodic population explosions, which is when they show up in Britain. There was one the summer before we moved here, 1996, I think, when we saw a lot of them in Dorset.
I wish I could learn to eat whole meals like that, just a little taste at a time and making it last; is it the antithesis of gluttony, or a particularly rarefied version of it?
Mm? Not sure... have to think about that! Think I might plump for scoffing the whole slice.
There appears to be an explosion of painted ladies in the South of England. The touble is that Proust or no Proust, cheese sarnie or no cheese sarnie, I can still taste in my imagination that little nibble of cheese.
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