The middle of May approaches, and with it the van of the invasion.
They settle on the flowers, which are not unlike white-winged butterflies.

I see them at the base of the blossom or inside the cavity of the "keel" of the flower, but the majority explore the petals and take possession of them.

The time for laying the eggs has not yet arrived.

The morning is mild; the sun is warm without being oppressive.
It is the moment of nuptial flights; the time of rejoicing in the splendour of the sunshine.

Everywhere are creatures rejoicing to be alive.