Looking for butterflies. Living the good life - and avoiding conflict. The importance of terminolgy.

 

Yesterday we walked up Lark Hill, a local steep hill-walk, something we do every once in a while, mostly to prove that our aging legs can still do it. (In the last week my aging legs have staggered up sand-dunes, clambered over stiles and climbed steep hills.) Lark Hill Lane itself is very badly eroded - by tractors, trail-bikers and torrential rain. Years ago we pushed babies in buggies up there - no longer remotely possible. 

It’s also because the views halfway up and from the top are rather fine.

But mainly yesterday we were on a butterfly hunt. A couple of years ago we walked up there on a fine, calm and sunny afternoon. On the stretch of path from the top of the hill towards Dobcross village centre we came across a buddleia bush, a flowering bush sometimes called a butterfly tree because of its capacity to attract butterflies, absolutely covered in very exotic-looking butterflies. Last year we tried several times to repeat the experience, all to no avail.

So yesterday we had another go. We found buddleia but apart from a couple of cabbage whites fluttering around far from the bush and a single red admiral sunning itself on a stone wall we saw precious few butterflies. Maybe it was not quite warm enough or maybe there was too much wind. 

But we admired the flowers in various gardens as we made our way home down the hill from Dobcross. 

On Thursday, by way of a contrast, we saw masses of butterflies (again mostly cabbage whites) and dragon flies as we followed the path through the valley beside the stream. 

A young friend of mine (well, he is the son of an old friend and now that he is in his late thirties has started to describe himself as middle-aged but it’s all relative) has been posting a lot of stuff on social media lately about his allotment. He seems to be seriously enjoying the good life experience with his fruit trees and his hens and now, his latest endeavour, learning about bee-keeping. Yesterday he went on an introductory course and now plans to take a longer course and plans to set up a hive on bus allotment. 

He also posts a lot of political stuff and anti-racist material and although yesterday’s study day was pre-planned he also regarded it as a way of keeping himself out of trouble. He was too busy to get involved in any of the clashes that were going on around the country. 

I’ve written before about the way language influences our view of events. Right now I’m objecting to calling the thugs who are causing havoc here and there ‘extremists’. Somehow labelling them extremists implies that they have a belief in something other than travelling around causing mayhem.

Columnist Arwa Mahdawi, writing in the Guardian, also talks about terminology in this article. She writes about the assumptions that many politicians and journalists seem to work on that Israeli = good and Palestinian = bad:

“You also see these assumptions reflected in the language used to describe the conflict. Look, for example, at who is classified as a hostage and who isn’t. When an Israeli soldier goes into a civilian’s house, grabs them at gunpoint, and sticks them in a cage then that person is a “detainee” or “prisoner”. When Palestinian combatants do the same that person is a “hostage.” These are important distinctions: the word “detainee” insinuates guilt – that person has clearly done something wrong. The word “hostage” insinuates innocence – that person is clearly a victim. The word “detainee” suggests due process in accordance with international law; the word hostage suggests terrorism.”

Time for equality in language. Time to set all hostages free.

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!