On Wednesday, I had what I think will probably be the last dragonfly of the year at my pond.
It was a male Common Darter, with his blood-red body and red flash near the tip of each wing (that marking is called a 'pterostigma' which, if my Latin is correct, just means wing mark!).
He was clearly feeling a little bit chilly - with only a low November sun to warm him, his engines weren't fired up for much in the way of flying, and that allowed me to get eyeball to eyeball.
Only a face a mother could love, en?
At this scale, you can see the thousands of facets that make up each eye. Each tiny lens faces in a slightly different direction, and we still don't know how the dragonflies' tiny brains manage to compute so many different images at once.
Indeed, the wrap-around eyes even have lenses facing backwards, so a dragonfly can still see you if you approach him (or her) from behind.
The eyes can even see ultraviolet light, which we can't.
But his life and those of his generation is now over. Their job is done and, like so many insects, the adults now succumb to the cold and wet. They have made their investment for the future, and now put their faith for the future in the eggs and larvae they have left behind. These will emerge in 2017 with only instinct rather than parents to guide them.
And they have all the joys to come of having wrap-around eyes.
It may be Latin to you but it's all Greek to me!