I bought butterfly plants in the spring.
Spring turned to summer.
I watered. They survived.
Summer turned to fall.
I watered. They survived.
On first inspection,
I thought my plant had a disease.
What weird fungus was growing?
I opened Google lens. AI generated a match.
Giant swallowtail caterpillars!
A little lesson from Mother Nature:
Do not destroy what you do not know.
Once I figured out what the alien caterpillars were, I put the plant (rue) inside an enclosure. I am excited to watch this process. I wonder if the chrysalis will stay over winter.
This month, I am participating in the National Writing Project’s Write Out, a program supported by the National Parks. Of course, writing outside can happen anytime of the year. The resources at Write Out are exciting and easy to use. Please join in writing today by leaving a small poem in the comments. What lessons do you learn in nature?
Reflections on the Teche 
What an amazing picture. So unlike the bulbous hanging chrysalis of the Monarchs. I love your repetition, and the ending with its timely advice.
My first impression of these were that they were frozen in time…
Was it Lot’s wife
who froze them
in place?
Pillars of black salt
clinging to outstretched branches, frozen
in mid step.
Did they not have faith
that they would emerge
as butterflies
or did they have regrets
that their lives
as they knew them
were over.
Diane, I love this because they are very still caterpillars. They do look frozen in time. I love how your poem wonders what they might be thinking. Thanks for writing.
Diane, I really love the bittersweet questions that make up your poem…
Margaret, your last line is a wonderful reminder for so much of our lives….
These days, I walk even more frequently at the Chicago Botanic Garden, where my late husband and I walked almost weekly for years, soaking up the wisdom, peace, and comfort of nature. I love the prairie, in particular, and the gradual changing of the colors of the ancient grasses. Here’s a little poem:
Prairie grass! Swaying feather tips flutter
elegant as winged bird finery
inhaling breeze exhaling song
float though rooted deeply down
whirl with blue abandon
standing against Earth
and its changes—
they beg me:
Flutter!
Fly!
Draft, Carol Coven Grannick
Margaret, your last line is a wonderful reminder for so much of our lives….
These days, I walk even more frequently at the Chicago Botanic Garden, where my late husband and I walked almost weekly for years, soaking up the wisdom, peace, and comfort of nature. I love the prairie, in particular, and the gradual changing of the colors of the ancient grasses. Here’s a little poem:
Prairie grass! Swaying feather tips flutter
elegant as winged bird finery
inhaling breeze exhaling song
float though rooted deeply down
whirl with blue abandon
standing against Earth
and its changes—
they beg me:
Flutter!
Fly!
Draft, Carol Coven Grannick
I have a picture book manuscript about the prairie. I love the description of the grasses, feather-tipped and elegant. Thanks for sharing your passion for poetry and nature.
Sorry! Not sure why it came through twice….
I am so excited to meet your new friends! I adore your last line. No poem is coming from it immediately, but I’m writing it in my notebook for further noodling.