That Time of Year

Monday was warmly autumnal weather-wise; dotted cloudy-sunny, high winds, trees fluttering in constant prayer.  ‘The Summer Book’ was a most calming film, beauty of nature and moss fanatics.  While I was out, a spider had webbed right across the house gate, hedge to hedge.  Later, a painted lady butterfly flew inside.  Walked behind it down the stairs, in a Snow White moment, letting it fly out the front door.  Was reminded of an anti-Snow White, freakish Tim Burton-type moment a few weeks prior, when a very large and jet black moth flew into the living room one evening.  After freaking out that this portended a death, went screaming and running into the hall, then peeked around the door as it fluttered perilously close to my head.  Switched on the big light.  The big light being the central ceiling light in any room.  As opposed to ambient lamps, candles and/or fairy lights.  Rarely is the big light used.  Occasions such as seeking dropped jigsaw pieces under the couch, (why do they always make their way under the couch, is the carpet beside the table not enough for them?) and fooling nocturnal, jet black moths into thinking it’s daytime being the only times recently.  With the blast of big light, the moth thought it was daylight (I assume, I don’t mean to imply I comprehend the workings of moth brains.  If they actually have a brain.  They must have something, infinitesimal given the size of their heads.  Instinct probably).  Anyway, jet black moth tucked itself under the top of the dresser I silver-gilded (cheek).  Got a moth and spider removing device (empty Bon Maman jam jar and large envelope), and removed jet black moth, while making weird increasingly squealy noises, released it back out into the moonlit night.  To do moth stuff.