Beach boy

Hard on the heels of Storm Floris, another whirlwind made landfall in Orkney, as younger daughter and grandson came to visit for a week. Little Louis is not quite three years old and we had to take certain measures to keep him in the garden, but out of the pond.

Fortunately, despite exploring absolutely everything else, he ignored the temporary fencing altogether. Phew.

Everywhere we went, his faithful companions Duck and Lamby came too...

At the play park

On the beach (Lamby on the left, Duck on the right)

Duck and Lamby are not to be confused with Scottish curling sweepers Hammy and Lammie...

Hamilton (Hammy) McMillan on the left, Bobby Lammie on the right

The beach was Louis' favourite place to go, digging holes in the sand, building destroying sandcastles, exploring rock pools and paddling in the sea.

A Hermit Crab. Birsay

Rackwick, Hoy (with some mountains on the Scottish mainland just visible)

Rackwick, Hoy

Luckily, Louis didn't spot this shoe encrusted with Goose Barnacles. Skaill Bay

Dig a hole, fill it with water, wonder where the water has gone, repeat. Birsay

Elder daughter was also in Orkney the same week for work, so the two of them had a sister day. Louis went along too, allowing Nana and Grandad some time to ponder the decimation of the wildflower border (Storm Floris) at Burnbank and carrying out a bumblebee survey at Stromness waterworks.

The Red Campion, Knapweed, Ragwort, Fox and Cubs, Bird's-foot Trefoil, Ox-eye Daisy, Red Campion and Figwort all took a battering from the 75mph winds

But from the debris emerged this self-seeded Pansy (a garden escapee from a planter)

I had hoped that this was a Great Yellow Bumblebee (what with the black stripe across the thorax), as it would have been my only one of the year. Alas, it was later ID'd as a male Heath Bumblebee (thank you JW)

Angleshades moth

Before their flight home, we had one final walk, up to Brinkies Brae overlooking Stromness, then coffee and pastries in a new cafe in the town.

Panorama from the top of Brinkies Brae

This week, we're experiencing the patter of tiny feet in a different way, with various scritching and scratchings sounds emanating from the loft. At this time of year, with cereal crops being harvested in the surrounding fields, all our traps are deployed in the garage, which is not a rodent-proof structure by any means. A few traps have now been relocated to the loft. Mocha the cat remains blissfully unaware that anything is amiss (amouse?).