Weekend blackberry pickers have trampled a sheltered cul‑de‑sac in this sprawling bramble patch, creating an arena for a territorial dispute between two male speckled wood butterflies. I’m almost sure I can hear the flick of clashing wings as they spiral upwards in a dogfight of ever‑decreasing circles; scales are being shed. Then, suddenly, they separate and settle, to feed on the leaking juice of the over‑ripe berries.
There is an end-of-season air of decay about these bushes, with their worn and tattered foliage. On this thin, nutrient‑poor limestone soil a few have already developed blazing yellow and crimson hues. There isn’t a pristine leaf anywhere: some have been nibbled by caterpillars, others graffitied with meandering tunnels of leaf miners. All are speckled purple. Turning them over, I can see why: purple, finger‑staining spores of bramble rust fungus.
