I spent the day in the gardens, front and back. Neighbors dropped by to chat and comment on our beautiful weather in anticipation of much needed rain.
One neighbor recently got a sweet Golden Retriever that spent too many years at a disgusting Amish puppy mill and is now living her best life. A few minutes later, a young couple walked by with a newborn, their first. Kids rode by on their bikes and e-bikes on their way to play tennis at the park.
It was a wonderful, happy, Southern California kind of day, and I got a lot of work done, filling up three yard waste cans.
Even the butterflies seemed to be more active than usual, perhaps trying to sip as much nectar as possible before the rain or a southerly migration. I tried to snap some pics but they absolutely wouldn’t stay still long enough!
It made me think of that really old song, Elusive Butterfly. It’s beautiful, sad, poignant, even melancholy, but there I was, chasing that elusive butterfly — I could so relate.
Here’s previous butterfly photos, and these guys knew how to properly model.
I’m so excited! This is the first time I’ve ever seen a Red Admiral butterfly. I had installed a solar powered fountain in the pond only minutes before when this little guy came to visit and take a drink. After that, he spread his wings on the sun warmed rocks and I was able to get a good look.
I hope he hangs around for a while…I’ll try to capture better photos if I see him again.
The Red Admiral (Vanessa atalanta) has much more black than the Monarch. It has a black upper forewing with a bright, diagonal red-orange band across it and spots of white on the tips. It also has a red marginal band on its hindwing and the underside is a mottled brown.
I found a poem about this butterfly and had to share. I wasn’t able to learn a lot about the poet, David Wood, but I certainly do like his poems!
Sonnet 68: Red Admiral
Patrolling small stretches of the hedgerow Like a silent sentry on guard duty, Other butterflies they will overthrow; The Red Admiral, nature’s real beauty.
Seen fluttering throughout summers hot days From buddleia to Michaelmas daisies, And sheltering from the suns golden rays, All the people will sing of their praises.
But they cannot survive the winter’s cold Their life is all too brief, a crying shame: Alas none of them will ever grow old Their short life is all part of nature’s game.
Their beauty we cannot take for granted For they are delicately enchanted.
Last year I attended the first ever North County Monarch Butterfly Festival. I’m glad to learn that it’s coming back again this Mother’s Day weekend.
The Festival highlights all aspects of the Monarch universe, from monarch-inspired arts and crafts to jewelry, clothing, biology, pollinator gardening, milkweed and nectar plant propagation and cultivating. Join discussions and presentations on a wide range of subjects, such as conservation and butterfly migration, habitat restoration and creation; talks on diseases and predators to gardening with native plants. It’s a great event for families with children’s activities and seed exchanges. (Event link below.)
In my garden, I thought my milkweed plants had died, but they miraculously returned and are doing well.
Planting milkweed is one of the easiest ways that each of us can make a difference for the Monarch. There are more than one hundred species of this wildflower native to North America. Here are just a dozen:
While other parts of the country feel the effects of a brutal winter storm, it’s sunny and relatively warm in SoCal.
Relatively, because I’m freezing even though it was in the mid-sixties today. I’m in a coat, scarf, and beanie. As much as I love to be outside, I HATE to feel cold.
This courageous Mourning Cloak butterfly savors the rays of the afternoon sun on a random soccer ball just before the coastal fog rolled in.
Mourning Cloaks live longer than most butterflies—ten months or more— so I hope this one finds a sheltered spot during next week’s forecasted rainy weather.
Battered, bruised, but still beautiful, and glorious to behold as she warms her wings.
I did a lot of “B” things today all before noon, which leaves me the rest of the day to enjoy in the garden.
First of all, I went to a butterfly festival. I mean, how could I NOT, right?
It was the North County Monarch Butterfly Festival in San Marcos, which isn’t too terribly far from me, but it’s inland and since we’re having a heatwave, I thought I’d go early. It was 95 degrees at 10:00 a.m. That’s HOT!
The North County Monarch Butterfly Festival featured butterfly-inspired art, crafts, clothing, gardening, live music, and food. I really wish the kids were here because it was the perfect fun and educational event for children.
Here’s what the event website had to say: The fate of the iconic Western monarch butterfly is tied inextricably to the health of the planet, and that means our fate as human beings is informed by the same forces that impact the monarchs. Simply put, if monarch butterflies thrive, so do we, along with all of the other inhabitants of the monarch universe; conversely, if the monarchs can’t thrive in this universe, then human beings can’t either.
This event – hopefully the first of many – will feature any and all aspects of the monarch universe, from monarch-inspired arts and crafts to jewelry, clothing, biology, pollinator gardening, milkweed and nectar plant propagation and cultivating, to discussions and presentations on a wide range of subjects, from conservation and migration to habitat restoration and creation, from diseases and predators to native plants vs tropical, from children’s activities to seed exchange.
I held a snake too, from the San Diego Herpetological Society, the same organization that helped me identify that Great Basin lizard that visited for a while last year. I’m not 100% sure what snakes and lizards have to do with butterflies, but me and all the other children loved it. The snake’s name is Matt. Isn’t he handsome?
All kinds of milkweed; I purchased the native variety. I also got a variety of milkweed called Hairy Balls, again, how could I NOT? Gomphocarpus physocarpus, commonly known as hairy balls, is a species of milkweed native to southeast Africa, but it has been widely naturalized. It is often used as an ornamental plant.
After that I drove back to the coast where it was noticeably cooler and stopped by the Bans Off Our Bodies rally gathering at our local train station. I was happy to see an awesome and exuberant crowd of like-minded folks while I took a few photos.
Bans Off Our Bodies
Blocks and blocks of people all the way to the beach! This is in front of Spin Records.
I thought about this: I’m lucky enough to experience a great deal of butterfly interactions; a continual source of joy and delight.
No photographic evidence exists to prove I’m telling the truth, but yesterday, as I was planting a bunch of California natives, a mourning cloak butterfly was fluttering all around me and then sat on my arm for about two minutes.
I tried to get to my phone to document this magic, but I couldn’t, so you’ll have to believe me. I guess she really really approved the locations where I planted the coffee berry and manzanitas!
This planting experience was a team effort: my son was on the phone with me when I was at the nursery having done the research about which specific plants to buy, and he also determined where each one should be planted. It’s not as much fun as having him here in real life. but we had a good time.
She came back today, blocking my way on the steps, so I was able to finally snap a photo.
Gale force winds, tree limbs down in the garden, neighbor’s pool toys are in my yard, umbrellas broken, lights flickering, and so much RAIN I can’t go outside because it’s dangerous.
This is a perfect time to share a photo gallery of this sweet little yellow butterfly who flirted with me on Sunday afternoon.
I can’t figure out if it’s a Sleepy Orange or Southern Dogface or California Dogface, Little Yellow, Southwestern Cloudless Sulphur, or Jamaican Yellow.
Whew!
I didn’t know there were so many yellow butterflies that look quite similar! (iNaturalist Butterflies of San Diego County).
Anyway, here’s a bit of sunshine on a rainy day. I hope all butterflies and birds and coyotes and bobcats stay safe and dry.
Look at this orange butterfly feasting on an orange zinnia!
I’ve never seen it before and I was so excited to learn this is a Gulf Fritillary or passion butterfly (Agraulisvanillae) They’re “longwing butterflies”, which have long, narrow wings compared to other butterflies. Gulf Fritillary is the only member of genus Agraulis. From Wiki.
#WordlessWednesday
An orange butterfly represents passion. An orange butterfly sighting can remind us to stay focused on or follow through with a plan or project until it’s complete.
The orange butterfly is associated with the sun, life, and consciousness. Spotting an orange colored butterfly can signify that a new dawn of healing and heart transformation is about to occur for someone who has been depressed or anxious.
Orange colored butterflies have also been associated with courtesy, friendliness, and liveliness.
Seeing an orange butterfly reminds us to stay positive.
Having an orange butterfly land on you or fly near you means that joy will soon come into your life in some unexpexted way.
An orange butterfly can also encourage us to be more socialble or outgoing, or seeing one can indicate that a visitor will soon arrive, or an invitation to a social event is coming–especially if the butterfly is flying inside or around the home.
For days, I’ve been trying to capture a photo of this elusive angelic Western Tiger Swallowtail, but every single time I came close, he fluttered out of reach, teasing me. But I’m patient; I had a feeling he’d return and he did!
After chasing him/her for a week, I was talking to it, “You little bitch, stop moving around.” Maybe it knew I was on my last nerve. If any neighbors were out and about, I’m sure they thought I was talking to myself, but I wasn’t. I was talking to a BUTTERFLY. That makes all the diff.
It’s so hot this morning, I was allowed a brief moment to showcase the magnificence while feasting on the nectar of late summer flowers.
The photos aren’t the greatest; it’s hard to focus and run at the same time, but I think it captures a certain butterfly essence, the joie de vivre.
Enchanted Seashells by Princess Rosebud 