Release the Epstein Files

 

A Giddy Delight

                                                                       

It's been a real pleasure to see more butterflies this year. I can't identify the one in the picture (update: I think it's a Question Mark aka Polygonia Interrogationis or maybe a Comma) but there was an abundance of yellow swallowtails dodging around my car when I went to the grocery on Wednesday. And yesterday, a Black Swallowtail tried hard to come in the basement when I was doing the laundry.

Butterflies don't appear to have much sense--just giddy with pleasure at their existence, brief though it may be.

Which puts me in mind of some things I read recently: two pundits (male, of course, is there any other kind?) warned Democrats against being 'giddy' over Kamala's candidacy.

I plead guilty. 

After the sad disaster of the Biden/Trump "debate," and after the orgasmic crowds at the RNC, Kamala's new ascendancy and the rapid coalescing of the party around her are a real delight.

I know it's going to be a fight. I know nothing is certain--especially after watching Hillary lose, despite her overwhelming victory in the popular vote.

But so very many people are energized by this fresh start--young people, women, minorities--how can I keep from feeling just a bit giddy?

New to Me--a Red Spotted Purple

 

This beauty was feasting on a ripe fuchsia seed on our front porch.

                                                                                 

It was so fixated on eating that it totally ignored me.

It just hung out there under the fuchsia.

Josie tried to tempt it with Black-Eyed Susana . . .not interested.

I had assumed it was a Spicebush or Pipevine Swallowtail--the black and blue butterflies I'm familiar with. But then I realized, there was no swallowtail. None.

Call Mr. Google! A little sleuthing led me to a butterfly I'd never heard of-- a Red Spotted Purple. I believe that's our visitor. And what a beauty!

Below is a photo from the internet that helped me identify this beautiful critter. Lots more info HERE.

Pastoral

 

Caring

Following Sandy Parshall's suggestion, I have put sugar water and a halved tangerine in the greenhouse near the butterfly.

As of Saturday afternoon, it was still alive. 

The greenhouse is chilly, and the butterfly has not attempted to fly. But I've set it near food and water, for what it's worth. A brief life . . .

UPDATE: Sunday morning and poor butterfly is gone. As are the two tangerine halves. Somewhere mice are feasting.

 

Unseasonal Sad Surprise

Yesterday morning I was surprised to see a beautiful, just-hatched swallowtail butterfly clinging to a decorative piece of bittersweet vine in one of my orchids. My delight at this almost magical appearance--its empty cocoon was attached to the dead vine--quickly changed to sadness. December is no time for butterflies, even though the weather is mild. I mourn the waste--butterflies are increasingly rare and this one won't have a chance to reproduce. 

Not knowing what else to do, I took the poor critter--which was beginning to fan its wings-- into the greenhouse and set it on a plant. There's no future for it here either, but perhaps its end will be gentler, surrounded by green plants.

 

Of Butterflies and Skinks

Two of My Favorite Things

Yesterday in the Garden

Early morning sun catches the new-leaved vines, making the tree's branches look furred... 

Time to do some planting in the box beds . . .

In goes some Italian parsley . . .

Digging a hole, I disturb a sleeping toad who blinks in the sunlight . . .

Two beds weeded, planted and mulched . . . six to go . . .

And there are collards and kale and broccoli to plant . . .
and butterflies to watch . . . 

Blogger wouldn't let me post this last night ...
Mysterious are the ways of Blogger. 

 

A Garden Capture

I was in the garden when I saw a puzzling something zig-zag past, closely followed by a hummingbird.  When the something landed, I saw that it was a dragonfly that had captured a butterfly . . . and was proceeding to eat it.

I have a fondness for dragonflies -- they eat mosquitoes, you know -- but I'd never, ever seen one nab a butterfly.

He (or she) stayed put as I got closer and closer . . .

It was fascinating; two beautiful insects . . . The dragon fly, a sinister high-tech helicopter, the butterfly, a hapless damsel . . .

  Exquisite colors and patterns caught up in macabre dance of death.

Tyger, Tyger, Tiger Swallowtail

THE TYGER (from Songs Of Experience)

By William Blake

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

1794