Call me easily pleased, but it is the big, boldly patterned moths that really get me going. These are the ones that make four-year-old Maya's eyes widen, and that I parade in front of our mildly bemused neighbours as compensation for disturbing their slumber with the new lighthouse in our garden. These are the hawkmoths, lepidopteran royalty.  So far, we have caught singletons of Poplar Hawkmoth and Lime Hawkmoth. Both common species, but by gum they are good. This new 'mother' demands more!

Some moths – far too many for a beginner, if truth be told – are tiny. Even with the new identification guide, most of these micromoths elude my ability to name them. For now, they are photographed and ascribed unique, highly personal identifiers such as 'gold micrissimo', 'peppery micro' and, most amateur of all, 'black furry thing'. Some tiny moths are easily identifiable, however.  And that tends to be because they are swooningly gorgeous. One with only a scientific name, Lozotaenoides formosana, tops my personal bill thus far. (For the uninitiated, Formosa means beautiful...).  

Some moths have only made it inside my trap once so far. White Ermine, Clay, Common Wainscot, Bird's Wing, Bird-cherry Ermine, Small Blood-vein, Straw Dot, Buff-tip and Silver Y are cases in point. But best of all was a Toadflax Brocade, a rarity formerly confined to shingle beaches in the south-east, but now spreading north and west into London and beyond.  

Every night is different. The sense anticipation when opening the trap is typically overwhelming. Some typical members of a catch are shown in the slideshow below. Dark Arches, Light Emerald, Willow Beauty, Small Magpie, Lesser Treble-bar, Brimstone, Bee Moth and Mottled Rustic are decent examples. Some are coming to an end of their flight season in June; others are just beginning.