An Armada of Admirals

Sorry to have been AWOL for a few days. Shore Patrol found me and dragged me off to the beach when I could have been inside, writing. Never mind that the garden has been neglected for two weeks, and is whining for attention.

The everpresent and omnipotent hand of shore patrol…

We have a lone beach plum blossoming in our back yard, and little wild bees were orbiting the flowers like electrons ’round some high atomic weight element. Yesterday’s first-sun-in-days weather brought out another fleet of vistors, a dozen Red Admiral butterflies, who have invaded early, and in numbers.

Vanessa atalanta

Butterflies always surprise me with their alertness and speed.

Remember Atalanta? The one who, uninterested in marriage, agreed to marry only if her suitors could outrun her in a footrace?

The undersides of butterfly wings are pretty, too. One the the Admirals was backlit by the afternoon sun.

The butterflies sure can out”run” anyone chasing after them. You’ll need more than golden apples to catch these guys.

The Red Admiral lives in Europe, Asia, and North America. On this continent, it winters in the far South, and every spring moves north, and recolonizes the areas from which it has been driven by the previous winter’s cold.

Other topics beckon. There’s one more Sanibel Olio in the works, and perhaps another beach baby. Wishetwurra farm is asking for attention, and so is the story of my love for flowers. Right now the crows are hollering outside, the rubythroated hummingbirds have finally returned, and the shadows are nearing the upper beds in the garden.

Where I go now to transplant this year’s crop of celeriac.


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