EVERY TIME you look out of the window, there is a masterpiece being unfurled. A moment ago I spotted a butterfly on one of the apples. It was a red admiral and the rosy fruit echoed the deeper red of the black butterfly’s wing bands. But this was no still-life picture, and even as I stood there watching, the insect’s antennae visibly bristled as they read the breeze. Then the wings began to beat vigorously, a sure sign that it was feeding. Red admirals eat fruit and our Worcester pearmains, early ripeners, are ready. After a whole- hearted, though brief, feeding frenzy, there was a flicker of velvety black, red and white splashes as the butterfly whisked away. As happens so frequently in nature, my casual observation was little short of a miracle. First of all, this time last