THERE is I am told by those who know about these things a lot of ladybirds around this year. You should catch one if you can and use it to predict the weather.
To find the short term prospects, you sit your ladybird upon your open palm: if it crawls across the hand before dropping limply to the ground, then rain is on the way, but if it ups and flies away in a lively fashion they say the weather will be fine.
The long range forecast depends on the number of spots the insect has: if you have caught a ladybird with less than seven, the coming harvest will be good, while one with more than seven spots is a guarantee of empty barns.
A likely outcome of your search, however, is a ladybird that has exactly seven spots, since that variety is very common: this, of course, leaves the long range forecast inconclusive. The spots, apparently, are supposed to remind us of the seven joys and seven sorrows of the Virgin Mary, from whom the insect takes its name.
In early religious art Our Lady was often depicted with a scarlet cloak, and indeed the Latin name for the family of beetles to which the ladybird belongs is Coccinellidae, or "clad in scarlet".
The proliferation or otherwise of ladybirds in any given summer is both directly and indirectly related to the weather of the previous months. The insects are very sensitive to cold, so a harsh winter depletes their numbers for the following season.
On the other hand, and more importantly, a mild winter followed by a fertile spring leads to a healthy crop of aphids on which the beetles feed. And well fed, ladybirds increase and multiply enthusiastically.
The most memorable year in this respect was 1976, the last of the long hot summers before we experienced 1995. Most of the previous season's ladybirds survived the mild winter and then a wet spring encouraged a lush growth of vegetation, which in turn produced a bumper crop of aphids.
Throughout early summer the ladybirds feasted to their hearts' delight, and their numbers multiplied to plague proportions.
But then a famine followed. By mid summer most of the aphids had been eaten up worse still, the plants on which they thrived had shrivelled in the scorching heat. By the end of July in Britain and Ireland, every ladybird was starving.
In the early days of August that year, you may remember, billions of them took to the air in search of food, travelled up to 400 miles until they reached the sea, and made well publicised descent en masse on Britain's eastern beaches.