High up on the hilltops baking in the sun, the long winter grass waves freely, twisting to and fro. Bending and flipping back with eternal joy and laughter in the sun. So free so non-caring, it lazes joyously through the day. At night as the sun sets and the dew falls, slowly the weight bends the grass as if with heavy eyes it slowly lies down to sleep. The sun lazily collapses over the mountain and the hills lie back on the pillow of clouds night falls as the soft breeze extinguishes the candle of today.
As the morning breeze rustles up life again and the suns rays flow like blood in the earths veins, energising every insect into frenzy below the grass a new world arises. Finally the heat bakes them out and they take to the air. Launching from the baked red mud with a massive kick of their hind legs the catapult into the air, fully stretches they soar over the grass.
Over the valleys they sweep and glide. In short spurts they take the currents of air before they float to the ground rest and on they go. These are the highland locusts like none that I have ever seen before. Large and brown, nothing to look at, but they have fairy wings, as they spring up and jump, two massive brightly coloured wings unfold like butterflies on their backs as they glide into the air these two massive lime and yellow silk sails unfold transforming this ugly duck of an insect into a princess. Slowly more and more take to the air, suddenly this grassland turns into a spring flower bed as thousand upon thousand of these locusts open their wings, making the whole valley look as if spring is in full blossom. Then suddenly as quick as they blossomed, so the close. On and off they go turning the valley into flashes of colour.