Many of the descriptions of butterfly sites include short poems. These were written by Tricia Newland. While I was taking photographs, my wife captured the moment in her poetry. Here are a few of her poems. I hope you feel that they add atmosphere to the descriptions. There are many more in the book. Tricia would be pleased to have comments on her poems and suggestions; if you would like to make comments, please use the email address at page 11 of the book.
Aston Rowant
Bishop Middleham Quarry
Catfield Fen
Sitting on a meadow bank,
Sun hat on among the flowers.
Butterflies in plenty fly -
Brimstones, Whites and Chalkhill Blues,
Small Heaths, Small Blues, Marbled Whites.
We seek a Silver-spotted Skipper.
Not here, where grass is green and long,
But where the sheep have grazed it bare.
He comes to feed on a low thistle.
The quarry has been left for dead
Where Durham men have toiled.
Now we enjoy a quiet stroll
Among wild thyme and rose;
And Durham Argus thrive
In this their haven home.
Dandelion clocks touch and nod
Like pensioners spending time together.
Yellow irises surprise
Among nettles, brambles, reeds.
Suddenly the sun comes out -
Two Green-veined Whites,
Small Copper and Brimstone
Hurry their appearance.
Soon a Swallowtail swoops into sight.
Compton Chine
Devil's Dyke
Grafton Wood
Glanvilles are hidden here.
On this shore where ships were wrecked,
Where dinosaurs once trekked,
Winds blow strong at Compton Chine,
Glanvilles are hidden here.
Today, where horses gallop,
Where trees blossom,
Where birds chatter,
Where dogs have fun,
Where children run,
Hidden in some blades of grass,
Green Hairstreaks come to bask.
At Grafton, when bluebells abound,
Prepare to walk on muddy ground.
Trees cut back to let in light,
Butterflies emerge in flight.
Early purple orchids found,
Primroses as well around.
Even if a muddy place,
It is today a holy space.
Langdale Pike
Merthyr Mawr Warren
Sheringham Park
I scramble up a stony way
And find a grassy slope.
I rest and hope the sun comes out
To cheer me on this day.
I hear the sound of running stream,
The crying of the birds.
No company today but sheep,
I find this mountain steep.
Up, up a sandy path
Where dunes on chalk hills spread
Like desert pyramids;
Through wild rose, tufted grass,
Pansies dapple, but won't last.
Suddenly a vista, panoramic view,
Blue, brilliant blue bay.
Visit this park of Repton's dream,
A grand design, a gracious scheme.
Here is home for plant and insect,
A place to wander and reflect.
Azaleas shine their coloured lights,
Rhododendrons jewel bright.
There are seats to rest your feet,
A temple makes this park complete.