Lured by a Butterfly

Our wildflower meadow is a miniature one this time of year, with henbit, bluet and my favorite, 

Johnny-jump-up, scattered among the dormant grass.

Here and there, a toothwort or rue anemone, at shoe height, tower above the others. The best way to appreciate this beauty, I think, is at ground level, and I've spent a little time there lately, laying on my sturdy old exercise mat. Besides providing padding, I've been counting on it to keep most of the bugs away (except for the pretty ones that don't think we taste good).

I wasn't just there to see the flowers. I'd been lured by an elusive butterfly. On a walk in the woods last week, I saw a male Falcate Orangetip for the first time. Flying at eye level a few yards ahead of me, he stayed over the path like a mechanical rabbit, and I had to pick up my pace to keep up with him. He was small and white with one bright tangerine spot on each wing. The female lacks the orange spot, but both of them have a delicate pattern on the underside of their hind wings. When a female appeared in the brush at the side of the trail, the Orangetip male abandoned me, and it was only then I noticed the single stemmed rose he was carrying.

I saw their cousins in western Ozark County, about 8 miles from here, and also in our meadow, which is the main reason I was there, with my camera of course. But photographing them has been a challenge. They would speed by, flying erratically, like a house fly on steroids. When I finally saw one alight, it was momentary, on the delicate violet, Johnny-jump-up.

There's a state park in Connecticut called West Rock where people gather every year to see these butterflies. I can understand why they go to view such a sight, but now I can say with certainty, they ain't got nuthin' in Connecticut that we don't have right here in Ozark County, Missouri.

Linking with Our World Tuesday

Blurb Magazine

 

When I want to publish a book online, Blurb is my go-to company. Here's their ad on the internet:

Passion + Design = Perfect Book. Make a Book. Leave Your Mark.

If you, like me, have a passion, and love to design, how can that not speak to you?

Recently, I posted a blog entitled Eternity, and my sister suggested I might add to it and turn it into a book. 

So that's what I did.

Or, more specifically, I used Blurb's magazine format to make a book.

Blurb's design and layout application, Bookwright, is downloadable, and I found it to be intuitive and user friendly. I chose the magazine format, quite honestly, because the price was remarkably low. On my first attempt, I ordered the economy magazine--20 pages for $3.99. The paper was thin, and the photos didn't have the rich saturation I had hoped for.  So I ordered another one with premium paper, still only $5.99 (plus postage, which runs high) for 20 pages, and I am very happy with the result. The cover has a soft gloss, and the colors pop off the substantial matte paper inside. Perfect.

About that passion? 

I think knowing about the next world is one of the most encouraging things in this one, and who of us can't use a little encouragement?

Linking with Our World Tuesday

A Glimpse of Eternity by Connie Smiley | Make Your Own Book

Barley Loves Autumn

We were hardly ready for the cold that arrived Sunday, 

and the dusting of snow seemed strange while leaves were still on the trees.  

Monday morning, before dawn, long ribbons of geese made their way south over the distant hills.  

At night, we could hear them overhead complaining about the weather.

Despite what the thermometer says, it is still autumn, 

and I'd hate to let the season get by without Barley weighing in on it. 

Barley loves autumn.  

He loves foggy mornings when the world is quiet except for the crunch of leaves underfoot.

He loves the fresh, clear air, and the late afternoon sun on his coat, 

and living in a world of orange.

He loves being a blur of motion as he races over the ground in broad circles, 

scattering bright colors in his wake.

Barley loves winter, too, but he's not ready to let go of autumn just yet.  

And for that matter, neither am I.



Linking with Saturday's Critters
and Our World Tuesday

Emergence

It takes 10 to 14 days for a monarch butterfly to emerge from the cocoon, and after all that waiting, the actual process happens rather quickly.  In less than a minute, this butterfly was out of its cocoon, and in about another 7 minutes, the wings were fully extended.

The new butterflies hang for a while to let their wings dry, and then they're off.  

This one struggled across the grass, awkwardly, un-butterfly like, 

before he finally discovered his wings.

I've always loved these butterflies,
but my admiration for them has grown as I've watched their tenacity,
and when they finally fly, my heart takes wing along with them.

We're wishing them a happy winter in Mexico,
or wherever they made reservations this year,
and we'll leave the lights on for them next spring.



For the metamorphosis, click here.




Linking with Our World Tuesday
and Saturday's Critters

Irresistible

In the chill of late February, on our patch of Ozark land, 

the only things that appear to be blooming are a few delicate snowdrops.

Saturday's sunshine pried open the petals.

Was it the fragrance, wafting on the breeze, that woke the slumbering honeybees?

Hovering honeybees

find a snowdrop's siren song

irresistible.

How many are your works, O Lord!

In wisdom you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures.

All creatures look to you to give them their food at the proper time.

When you give it to them, they gather it up;

when you open you hand,

they are satisfied with good things.

Psalm 104:24, 27, 28




Linking with Weekly Top Shot
and Our World Tuesday

Aftermath

The clouds burst their seams last night, and showers poured down long into the morning, accompanied by thunder and flashes of lightning.  Barley cowered by the bedside.  

At daybreak, residual moisture clothed the hills with mist.

By the time the hiking boots came out, Barley fears had been long forgotten, 

and he was as eager to get outside as I was.  Along the path, rivulets flowed into 

small waterfalls and down to the hollow to form a creek, which continued to the lake.  

Barley lowered himself into the chilly water, and, half submerged, pivoted slowly, 

taking in the whole scene.  

There, the rocky hollow, now bursting with new green, stretches outward to the hills.

When he emerged, Barley sidled up close and began shaking, splattering my jeans.  

He certainly meant well.  I think.

In whatever form it comes, we are grateful for the moisture and the One who sent it, 

the One who gave us life, and fills our hearts with joy.

Do the skies themselves send down showers?  

No it is You, Lord our God.

  Therefore our hope is in You, for you are the one who does all this.

  

Jeremiah 14:22 

Linking with Our World Tuesday