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It’s never a good thing when odd weather makes the news. The news here this week has noted both our high, mid-summer like temperatures and the deepening drought. It has felt like July or early August instead of our usual gentle cooling slide into October. I read this morning that parts of the Southeastern United States not only broke every record for daily high temperatures this past week, but some broke their record high for the entire year, over the past three days.
Clear skies and relentless heat through most of September has left our gardens, fields and roadsides crisp and thirsty. Even some trees and shrubs look a bit limp, with leaves turning brown and falling early. Rich autumn colors have been parched out of much of our foliage; an anti-climatic ending to this remarkable year.
But every day I still study the forecast, expecting our slim chance for rain to materialize into a sweet, moist, life-giving inundation.
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A Painted Lady butterfly feeds on Lantana in our front garden.
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Until that happens, the only life-giving water comes from a watering can or hose, and I’ve spent many hours this week delivering water to hard, parched dirt in hopes of sustaining thirsty plants through another searing day of heat.
It chased me back indoors on Wednesday. After a relatively cool morning, where I was able to enjoy making my watering rounds at the Botanical Garden, the morning blazed into mid-day heat. I could feel the sun burning through my hat and shirt like a cosmic broiler, as I dutifully watered the last few pots on the patio here at home. I’ve never felt the sun so strongly in October, or felt chased back indoors so urgently to cool off and re-hydrate myself. I sat under the ceiling fan, water in hand, and considered how this new weather reality will demand changes in how I plant in years to come.
But even as the leaves crisp and our black-eyed Susans bloom on blackened stems, bright purple berries shine on beautyberry branches, buds swell and bloom on our Camellias, pineapple sage opens its first flowers of the season and butterflies float around the garden
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The first Camellias bloomed in our garden last week.
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Our masses of Lantana support countless small butterflies, all feeding and hovering about their bulk. I get a rush of pleasure from walking near and seeing the cloud of butterflies rise and resettle at my approach. A Monarch fed placidly yesterday until I had it in focus. An instant before I clicked the shutter it rose, looped around a time or two and disappeared across the crest of our roof.
Judith brought over her hamper of chrysalides on Tuesday afternoon. About 20 butterflies were still growing inside, awaiting their day to break free, stretch their wings, and fly away. Some of these were the same ones she rescued a few weeks ago from our fennel plants. After handfeeding them organic parsley as they grow, she protects their chrysalides in mesh cages while they pupate. Finally, they break out of their protective sheaths to stretch and harden their wings.
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The first Black Swallowtail to emerge from the hamper Judith loaned us was a female. Here, she allows her wings to stretch and harden before her first flight. She is resting directly above her now empty chrysalis.
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As we release each adult butterfly from the hamper, I wonder, ‘How do they learn to fly?’
A female flew out of the cage and rested lightly on the Lantana yesterday morning, and then floated up onto a low branch of a nearby dogwood, considering her new world. Do butterflies remember their caterpillar lives? Do they recognize the garden from such a different viewpoint?
Butterflies emerge from the chrysalis totally prepared for the next stage of their lives, and float off, effortlessly, to get on with the important business of sucking nectar and finding a mate. Maybe we aren’t so different, when you really think about it.
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This long tailed skipper, Urbanus proteus, is more commonly found in South and Central America, but it has been sighted as far north as New York. It feeds on bean, Wisteria and pea leaves, so its larvae is often considered a pest. As an adult, it is very unusual land beautiful. Here, it feeds on Buddleia and Verbena.
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And this generation emerging from their chrysalis this week will likely mate and lay their eggs in the garden before we see frost. Winter seems far away this week and summer, endless.
The gardening ‘to-do’ list seems longer now than it did in August, since it’s nearly time to put the garden to bed, plant a few daffodil bulbs, pull out the annuals and fill our pots with pansies.
But that will have to wait a bit while I play with the butterflies, water, and take time to appreciate the beauty of our late summer garden.
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Woodland Gnome 2019
Many thanks to the wonderful ‘Six on Saturday’ meme sponsored by The Propagator