Wenlock Edge, Shropshire: These adult jaspers feed only on the sugars of nectar and fruit, so this windfall is ripe for them
This is the tipping point, the meeting point, the turning point. There may be many or only one, but this one is inside an apple. At that moment when the fruit falls from the tree before the seeds are released; in that moment between ripeness and decay when the blackbirds break through the peel to excavate the flesh and it begins to turn brown; in that moment the wasps arrive.
The nests of Vespula vulgaris, common wasps that we call jaspers, may be 10,000-strong, but there seem to be fewer these years. The wasp larvae, packed with proteins from carrion, caterpillars and insects chopped up by sterile female workers who do not eat it themselves, have hatched into fertile females, the new queens, who leave with male drones for mating. As the weather gets colder, the old queen and all the workers die. Only the new queens hibernate. There is no going back from this. Wasp communities rise and fall in a year, and sow their seeds in future generations. This is also the point for us of engagement parties, wedding anniversaries, birthdays, leavings, arrivals – fruits from our own families and communities with destinies folded in their pips.