Under a brooding sky the butterflies play, busy about their business. A flash of red and orange as a small tortoiseshell flutters past, coming to rest on a bramble. I take a slow step, then a second. A twitch and up they fly – not one or two, but clouds of butterflies, spiraling round overhead. Bright in contrast against the rainclouds gathered. Blissfully ignorant of the approaching storm they return to sip, getting heady on nectar and sun.
NB – back up north this week, attending an interview for a post up here. If prayer is your thing, then please pray for all those being interviewed and all those doing the interviewing, that God’s hand will direct us all to the right decision for this group of parishes. Thank you.