On The Cusp

I love orange! As, presumably, does this marmalade fly, episyrphus balteatus. They're super common and live all over the place. Strangely I've never been a big fan of marmalade, despite my passion for all things orangey - it's much too bitter. Apparently the whole reason it's so bitter is that English marmalade uses Seville oranges for their high pectin content, which enables the preserve to set well - California marmalade uses sweet oranges (and is therefore probably much nicer).

Wikipedia tells us that in 1524, Henry VIII received a box of marmalade from a Mr Hull of Exeter, allthough quite why is unclear. Apparently it was originally made from quinces and imported into Britain in wooden boxes rather than jars, and it wasn't until the 1700s that it started to be eaten as an accompaniment rather than just as a sweetmeat in its own right.

I remember as a child I had high expectations regarding the deliciousness of marmalade, thanks to the charming Paddington Bear, who had such a serious addiction to the stuff that, were he human, questions would have been asked regarding his suitability as a role model for small children. As far as I was concerned at the time, however, if a cartoon bear liked it, then it must be pretty delicious. You can imagine my disappointment when I actually tried it.

Dead Head Hoverfly

An insect I actually identified - this is a Dead Head Hoverfly, so called because allegedly the pattern on its thorax looks like a skull. And it's a hoverfly.

I don't see it myself, but I guess the 'Dead Head' hoverfly is a much cooler name than the 'Looks a Bit Like A Skull If You Squint At It, Maybe, In Poor Lighting Conditions' hoverfly. Scientific name myathropa florea, it's very common in Europe and North Africa.

I suppose humans have always had rather an obsession with seeing (and creating) skull patterns everywhere. One of my favourite paintings I saw for the first time last year in the National Gallery - The Ambassadors, by Hans Holbein. The painting itself is a vast canvas, larger even than life-size, which takes up most of a wall at the gallery. Standing directly in front of it you can see this long, thin, curiously distorted object at the bottom of the painting. It's only as you slowly walk to the right that the distortion corrects itself, and from exactly thge right angle resolves into a perfect image of a human skull. It's incredibly clever and rather disconcerting - it's a shame it's much less impressive online, because with the image shrunk, the skull shape is more obvious from the outset.

Pink Me Up

Once again both insect and flower goes unidentified. You'd think all these photographs would provide me with great motivation to learn about English wildlife and botany but alas, apparently not.

Om nom nom

Once again I must confess that, shamefully, I don't know the name of the insect or the flower. All I know is that it's pretty and excitingly orange. And it came from somewhere in Warwickshire.