Moments Are Enough

The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.
--Rabindranath Tagore

As far back as I can remember, I've been drawn to butterflies the way moths are drawn to flame.

When I was in elementary school, we lived across the street from an empty lot. The owners let it become overgrown with wildflowers--weeds, really--and cut the snarl of knee-high growth only a few times each summer. I suppose the neighbors considered it to be an eyesore, but to me it was Wonderland and I was Alice.

Every summer day, that corner lot was aflutter with sulphurs and whites, admirals and monarchs, painted ladies and buckeyes, giant fritillaries and tiny blues. I can't imagine how many hours I spent watching, counting, studying and trying to get a closer look at some of the most beautiful creatures in nature.

Since 2003, I've kept a butterfly journal--a recording of the species I observe in my own garden. Most years, the number and variety of visitors to my garden have been good. This year, however, has been an odd one. An anomaly, I hope. Until the last few days, I've seen only cabbage butterflies (hoards of them that actually did devour my cabbage), a couple of skippers, a few monarchs and a couple of fritillaries. Not nearly the turnout of summers past. Could it be the cold spring? The abrupt changeover to a blast-furnace summer? Stifling humidity? Who knows.

I do know this:  like everything in nature, butterflies grace our lives only on their terms. At long last, here's what graced my garden this week. Ain't she grand?

Female Eastern Tiger Swallowtail

Linking to:

A Southern Daydreamer
Homemaker on a Dime