The tiny courtyard garden at the back of our house has suddenly become a nature reserve. Immature dragonflies have decided it is the perfect place to bask. Having just emerged, presumably they are very trusting of their camouflage (they are very hard to spot it is true) and will just sit there letting you get very close indeed.
They are (I think) - from top to bottom - an immature darter of some kind, maybe a Ruddy Darter, a Migrant Hawker and a Southern Hawker.
I read Gerald Durrell's My Families and Other Animals to my son recently and it evoked such memories of my own childhood in Gibraltar, where I would spend hours watching lines of ants or a praying mantis hunting for flies.
As I grow older I just accept that life moves faster for me than it does for my son. This is undeniably true, but looking at these dragonflies slowed time right down for me again. Maybe Peter Kirkham - see previous entries - has discovered this secret already with his moth-watching.