I swear the butterflies in my garden are drunk with pollen gathered from the beautiful buddleia! Frequently, I watch them swarming all over every tiny floret and they fly away, filled to the brim with so much pollen that they cannot fly straight. As often as not, they need to take a little rest on the roof of the family room and I’ve counted as many as three dozen drunken disorderly butterflies plopped, pooped and pickled on the roof, bathing in the afternoon sunshine.
This afternoon we had to go to Hunmanby, a small village a few miles away, and there was another buddleia, this time of a purple flowering variety, simply covered with butterflies. They seemed somewhat more decorous in their behaviour, perhaps less inclined to partake to excess as this bush lies in the beautiful church yard there.