This is half-pie.

…although I think Hadyn is right, these are in fact slugs, and not flatworms as I had originally thought:

Bella found this pair of beasties under a large dried leaf (left over from the summer when the girls were using it as a sun umbrella). As far as slugs go, I pronounce them pretty indeed, with their semi-transparent leaf shapes and contours.

But what were they up to under there? Hmmmmm.

Hannah Abby expired during the night.

Four year olds aren’t often sentimental types, it’s true, but even I was a little taken aback when Rosa turned up with these.

She explained that they’re to be used as decorations for her birthday, later on in the year. Very practical.

Although I would like to know where the rest of the butterfly is.

On the left is Hannah Abby. Reading to (let’s assume) her is Rosa:

Hannah is butterfly #2. She was among some spiderwebs under a weatherboard and got a bit tangled up on her way out; and since then, a couple days ago, she hasn’t flown away. “She’s very sick”, Becky explained. (“And she’ll probably die soon”, I rather too tactlessly added.)

So now Rosa’s looking after her.

Keeping Sue in the loop, as requested, on the monarch situation at home.

Unfortunately it would seem a sad end has befallen this chrysalis.

We think a small visitor may have handled it roughly a few days ago, killing it (evidence for which is the small-finger-shaped-indentation on the left side); or else something has eaten it alive. Nice.

We still should have 15 after today though: there’s another caterpillar going into its chrysalis as I type. And at least an earlier chrysalis is starting to darken and colour up, so we might not be too far off the first butterfly.

Or so I somewhat cheesily neologised the other day. We have 15 of the things now, which is getting towards a village, if not a city.

I’ll add any more nice shots to the end of my old chrysalis set, and any butterfly ones to the followup set.

Obviously plenty survived the attacks of the parasitic brown shield bugs, and the not so gentle attentions of Rosa, to go into chrysalis. We’ll see how many butterflies we get, but the weather will have to warm up again if they’re to have much chance.

Even flies.

These two were on the weathered outdoor table; the silvered and coarse wood grain complementing their stripes. It was quite warm weather after all, but really, on the table?

But those eyes! Who knew flies could be so pretty? (Not in that way, sorry.)

So this poor beastie wandered inside, and had gotten lost in the hallway, its claws collecting the dust-bunnies as it skittered across the wooden floor.

It was very large for this time of year – the body alone being around 12cm with the legs adding considerable extra length.

After getting it to model for me I took it outside and placed into the cover of our most expansive and indisciplined rose bush, where hopefully the beastie will go forth and multiply.

There are at least another two varieties of these to be found locally – this brown, and the similar green being most common, with an outrageously spiky brown also to be found. I shall inflict these on you as the opportunity arises…

Today was one of those days, all too few, in which the perfect late spring conditions are achieved: mildness, lack of wind, clear skies. And so we spent a lot of time in the garden, like many suburbanites.

By now though, Rosa and Bella know well how to divert me from my purpose. Rosa spotted this greedy lady jumping spider:

She was one of three we spotted scoffing up large. It’s that time of year, after all. Lots of babies to make.

So yeah, I ended up taking a few photos instead of doing useful things like plant spuds and mow lawns. Useful is over-rated.

And I had to take Bella down to the park for some bike riding and more “soccer practice”.

You see, since she’s started reading Go-Girl Angels, she’s decided she needs to become a football player. Maybe we’ll have to go to the Phoenix soon. I’m just loving that she’s reading on her own and absolutely loving it.

Here’s to summer, then.

I like spiders. I don’t know why. Maybe it started because I knew my mother hated and feared them beyond almost anything else… and to a small boy that’s a pretty good recommendation.

The variety of spider I remember the most from the farm were flat and grey and lived in the cracks in the old and weathered fence posts between the lawn and the cow paddock. They were always there when I went to look for them, especially on sunny days, but they were sufficiently cryptic to escape the notice of anyone else. I felt like they were all mine.

So you’ll be pleased to know they’re up here in Wellington (and further north too), not that they’re super-easy to spot. They’re called Holoplatys, according to my spider book, and I took a blurry photo of one, like an eight legged bigfoot, late last year on the fence around our deck. It was perfectly camouflaged, and it darted away before I could get a better shot. I hadn’t seen any here before, and I hadn’t seen any more… until today.

Later this afternoon it actually got warm, as the southerly died down and the sun shone. I opened a window, and there it was: a Holoplatys. I caught it and put it into lid of a plastic bowl. Which it tried to get out of immediately.

As you can see (also here and here), they have dark bodies, but in addition their camouflage is provided by a thick covering of grey fur that renders them the same colour as weathered wood.

And according to Forster & Forster, these spiders exhibit a behaviour called thigmotaxis, an urge to have both upper and lower body surfaces in contact with with something. In other words, they like to sidle into cracks. So if you pick one up, it’ll try and squeeze between your fingers:

How cool is that?

Next thing would be to look for the brown variety that lives in the flax. Apparently.

Few things seem to bestir me to any effort on this increasingly dusty blog.

One of these things is the weather, that most fickle (and dull) of subjects. There’s always something to whinge about that will be shared in part by one’s readers… well, the local ones anyway.

Unfortunately there was nothing to whinge about today. Can I whinge about that? Maybe not.

Balmy spring weather, all-blue skies, and an absence of wind: I thought I’d died and was in Another Place not reserved for the likes of me. So I ignored the kids and took the camera into the garden for some shooting.

First I unsuccessfully tried shooting some of the tiny yellow coprosma flowers. The shade was too dark, and the sun too bright – so nothing great there. But the kowhai was looking pretty good:

As were the tuis. One would pop by every five minutes or so, and if more than one arrived there’d be a minor scuffle until only one remained.

I like the tuis a lot. While they remain wary of people, they don’t really give a shit about us beyond keeping a minimum distance away. Every so often, this one would just look at me as if to say:

“I can see you monkeyboy, and I know what you’re doing.”

Someone said this week – it may have been Llew around the Wellingtonista watercooler – that the tui are the patched up gangsters of the indigenous avians of Kelburn, kicking the magpies and other imported trash out of the ‘hood, and setting up their stoop in the local kowhai trees. Lately though it’s not all been going their way, with the occasional drive-by from the kakas of Karori.

Who knew? But I could well believe it.