This is the time for new beginnings. Spring has always meant that to me. The first crocuses emerge, heralding the seeming endless new signs that spring has sprung. The birds are calling, their migrations in full swing. Spring peepers, those wonderful little frog songs I so love to hear, and the tiny buds bursting on most of the trees, all are meant to awaken the soul.
As I look around I remember the sadness I felt last year when I finally came to the realization that the butterflies were not coming. Last year, to my utter surprise, only three butterflies passed through. Asking my neighbors, they too, spoke of the decline of butterflies in their yards. Although small, my yard in crammed full of Joe Pye Weed, Butterfly Bushes, Milkweed, and Cone flowers. Parsley is grown for the wee little ones. I have everything in place for the caterpillars as they make their transition.
Since last year, I have endlessly exhausted myself telling everyone around me about the plight of the butterflies. I have successfully converted a few people from using damaging pesticides to using products like vinegar as an alternative. I have also encouraged family and friends to plant native milkweed in their yards. It would be such a shame, a black mark on our time period, if we willingly allowed the butterfly to go the way of the Dodo. I have pictures ready to show my grandchildren, just in case.
For now, I will till my garden with love, enjoy my outdoor symphony called, “The Frogs,” set my hummingbird feeder out, plant some more milkweed, and wait for the butterflies. While waiting for my friends to come I will spend my time outside reflecting on the mysteries of the world. Who knows, maybe I will come up with some answers.