Tag Archives: butterflies

Butterflies

I know it is only the tail end of February, but I have been thinking quite a bit about butterflies. I think this is because I having been seeing my photographs of butterflies and flowers come up on our Aura Frame. Other photos come up as well: forests, lakes, oceans, canyons, mountains, and new and old photos of loved ones. I believe I am focusing on butterflies now because I am craving lightness and beauty. When I see those photos, I can almost feel the warm sun on my back and a mild breeze on my face. I remember butterflies on the Blue Ridge and on the North Rim, in the Great Basin, in Washington, D.C., and in many gardens I have grown.

The thing is, I am going through a rough time. Like I promised when I started writing this blog almost fifteen years ago, I do try to stay close to the ground. Beyond the pretty good particulars of my own life, on this cold blue day, I struggle with the darkness of cruelty, unkindness, ignorance, greed, and selfishness that invade the space around me. Like Joni Mitchell sang over fifty years ago, “Reading the news and it sure looks bad They won’t give peace a chance That was just a dream some of us had…”  I counter this darkness with the light from my family and friends and caring people I meet along my way.

blue sky from my balcony window February 24, 2026

On March 28, 2026 I plan on marching from near Arlington National Cemetery across Memorial Bridge to Washington, D.C. to speak up for our democracy, for our diverse society, and for our environment. Meanwhile, I need butterflies and flowers, and I thought you might need them, too.

red-spotted purple with crape myrtle blossoms, Charlottesville, Virginia

swallowtail butterfly and thistle

swallowtail butterfly and thistle

butterfly with black-eyed Susan and verbena bonarensis

butterfly with black-eyed Susan and verbena bonarensis

butterfly and flower on the Widforss Trail

hairstreak (?) and flower Harvey Meadow, North Rim

monarch butterfly on zinnia

monarch butterfly on zinnia

fritillary, Yosemite National Park

butterfly and coneflowers

painted lady (?) and coneflowers

white on asters November 2025

Arizona sister (Adelpha eulalia) Harvey Meadow, North Rim

monarch and goldenrod, Mosaic Park, Arlington, Virginia

mourning cloak butterfly

 

Earth Days: Past, Present, and Future

daffodils

daffodils

Since January 2017, I have belonged to a Facebook group, March for Science. This group has been focused on organizing Earth Day (April 22) marches in support of science. In my life I have been mostly an English teacher, not a scientist. On my registration form for the march, I checked “science enthusiast.”

For months, March for Science group members have been posting “Why I march” comments. I loved almost all of the comments I have read and sometimes I cried about the stories. I never laughed because the current repeated attacks on scientific truth are deadly serious.

I love—I really do—the scientific method. I have read about, known, and admired many scientists.  I admire many of my mentors in the Rivanna Chapter of Virginia Master Naturalists. In literature,  John Wesley Powell, who scaled canyon walls with one arm, is one of my heroes.  Farley Mowat, who railed against the decimation of human and animal populations in Canada, is another. However, my reasons for marching next Saturday in Washington, DC are, perhaps, more in keeping with my English major sensibility.

Exploration

The Exploration of the Colorado River and Its Canyons

Why I Will March for Science on Earth Day

I attended the ENACT (Environmental Action for Survival) Teach-In on the Environment at the University of Michigan in March 1970 (see https://blogs.lib.msu.edu/red-tape/2016/mar/march-11-14-1970-university-michigan-holds-environmental-teach/ for more information about the teach-in). I was a young idealist then and I am old idealist now. I won’t give up.

I march in honor of my mother. I planted my first garden with my mother: popcorn and radishes against the side of the house in Detroit. Counting that garden and the one I grew with my brother George, that’s 45 years of gardens, most of them organic. Food and beauty. I won’t give up gardening now.

swiss chard, "Rainbow Mix"

swiss chard in my garden: “Rainbow Mix”

I march in honor of my father. My father taught me how to fish, skip stones, rake leaves, and shovel snow. He put up a hammock between two tall oaks, so we could see the sky, the water, and the leaves while we rested and dreamed. I won’t give up the dreaming.

Scenic Lake, Michigan (my brother's lake; I don't have a photo of mine)

Scenic Lake, Michigan ( my brother’s lake; I don’t have photos of the lake I grew up on)

I march in honor of Michigan and the Great Lakes, my first home. They want to cut EPA research for the Great Lakes by 97%. I want them to hear my “no.”  I remember the crayfish and the sunfish in the sunny shallows of our lake. I remember the power and strength of Superior. I will not let them destroy our lakes without a fight.

Lake Superior

Lake Superior

I march for the Grand Canyon, Zion, Glacier and all the rest of the federally protected lands.

Transept Canyon from Widforss Point

Transept Canyon from Widforss Trail, North Rim of the Grand Canyon

I march for the Kaibab squirrels of the North Rim, for the condor who glided past us on the South Rim, and for all the crows and ravens everywhere. I march for the bees, and for the butterflies, and for the American hornbeam that we planted in our yard last month and for the ponderosa pine, iconic tree of the North Rim (and food for the Kaibab squirrels).

butterfly with black-eyed and verbena bonariensis

butterfly with black-eyed and verbena bonariensis

I grow old. I do, in fact, sometimes wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled, but I will not stop now.

I have many more things to say. Maybe I will write about them another time or maybe not, but I will march and I will not stop.

Happy Spring.