Butterflies
Aug. 24th, 2005 04:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pameladeanWhen I skip over all sorts of interesting, calm discussions on my friendslist, including a fascinating one about girl cooties on ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
matociquala's journal, all to become infuriated beyond all bearing by a discussion of fat issues in a mixed milieu, despite knowing full well that that will be the outcome, because I am not a reasonable person, it is time to think about butterflies.
I always have several cabbage butterflies in the yard. In years that produced huge quantities of painted ladies or red admirals, I've had three or four of whatever was in good supply. Usually, however, I get one of each. One monarch, one swallowtail, one red admiral, one painted lady. As my attention to the garden has become more observational and less involved, I've had fewer and fewer sightings of butterflies. I have plans to redress this problem, but they always get pushed off until next year. This year has been no exception: one mourning cloak, one red admiral, one yellow swallowtail, half a dozen cabbage butterflies. However, today I was out with Ari -- oh, the bliss of weather that does not compell one to wait until after sunset to take the cat outside -- and saw a monarch darting hither and yon. It lit on the huge mock orange bush by the garage, and then I saw that there were three, five, eight, a dozen monarchs on the bush. I wonder if they are consulting about migration, or what. There's not much for them in the yard. My milkweed persists in behaving like a biennial, so there are plants but no flowers this year. Otherwise, the Henry Kelsy is blooming obligingly and the phlox, which was very late getting started this year, is still opening new flowers, though the general appearance of the plants is pretty ratty. There's a volunteer safflower and some hairy bellflower remnants, and sorrel and white snakeroot. That's really about all.
Thanks toclindau, David and I are going to the Guthrie this evening to see Somerset Maugham's The Constant Wife. Before then I should either work on my book or finish Pullman's The Subtle Knife, but I think maybe I'll go see how my hawks are doing instead.
P.
matociquala's journal, all to become infuriated beyond all bearing by a discussion of fat issues in a mixed milieu, despite knowing full well that that will be the outcome, because I am not a reasonable person, it is time to think about butterflies.I always have several cabbage butterflies in the yard. In years that produced huge quantities of painted ladies or red admirals, I've had three or four of whatever was in good supply. Usually, however, I get one of each. One monarch, one swallowtail, one red admiral, one painted lady. As my attention to the garden has become more observational and less involved, I've had fewer and fewer sightings of butterflies. I have plans to redress this problem, but they always get pushed off until next year. This year has been no exception: one mourning cloak, one red admiral, one yellow swallowtail, half a dozen cabbage butterflies. However, today I was out with Ari -- oh, the bliss of weather that does not compell one to wait until after sunset to take the cat outside -- and saw a monarch darting hither and yon. It lit on the huge mock orange bush by the garage, and then I saw that there were three, five, eight, a dozen monarchs on the bush. I wonder if they are consulting about migration, or what. There's not much for them in the yard. My milkweed persists in behaving like a biennial, so there are plants but no flowers this year. Otherwise, the Henry Kelsy is blooming obligingly and the phlox, which was very late getting started this year, is still opening new flowers, though the general appearance of the plants is pretty ratty. There's a volunteer safflower and some hairy bellflower remnants, and sorrel and white snakeroot. That's really about all.
Thanks to
clindau, David and I are going to the Guthrie this evening to see Somerset Maugham's The Constant Wife. Before then I should either work on my book or finish Pullman's The Subtle Knife, but I think maybe I'll go see how my hawks are doing instead.P.
no subject
Date: 2005-08-25 04:21 am (UTC)I remember I was very startled the first time I smelled a white-flowered hosta. They are lilies, after all, but I really hadn't expected it.
I quit feeding birds one year when the neighbors' cat kept crouching under the feeder, so I get how you feel, I think.
P.