Butterfly Pic, 04072024 edition
Tag: Midland Michigan
Butterfly Pic, 040124 edition
This is a giant glasswing butterfly from Ecuador, photographed at Dow Gardens’ Butterflies in Bloom.
Butterfly Diaries 2024, Volume 2
The “black and white” butterfly above actually is just barely blue. The blue tiger hails from Asia. Its neighbors here in the chrysalis case are a Doris longwing and a zebra longwing.
These photos were taken March 13, 2024, at Dow Gardens’ Butterflies in Bloom. On Wednesdays during the six-week exhibit, I spend a couple of hours tending the new butterflies in the chrysalis cases. When they are strong enough, they get released to the flying display.
How do they get released? I coax each butterfly onto my hand and transfer it into a mesh “bug catcher” with a zippered top. We also have smaller catchers, but there were a lot to release into the Conservatory this time. They probably would fly out on their own eventually, but I put them either on flowers or eager visitors. Unlike most butterfly exhibits, we encourage interaction, and show people how to hold steady so a butterfly feels safe crawling onto their hand. We do tell visitors not to touch the wings or the food dishes.
Butterfly Diaries 2024, Volume 1
Hi from my zebra longwing buddy! We’re at Dow Gardens’ Butterflies in Bloom, where I volunteer on Wednesdays during the annual six-week exhibit, tending the new butterflies in the chrysalis cases. These photos were taken March 6, 2024, from behind the cases.
From the front, the two chrysalis cases in the Conservatory look like windows. From the back, as shown here, they look much the same, except we see much more than visitors do of the blue pads we put down and spray with water to keep the humidity in the cases up.
Here’s a butterfly hanging out on a chrysalis to dry. The best-case scenario is that they emerge quickly and fully, grab their chrysalis firmly, and stay rooted while they flap their wings and pump fluid out of their bodies. The fluid is meconium and stains the pads, so we let concerned visitors know it’s not blood and is completely normal.
A malachite
Most butterflies take a couple of hours to dry and be strong enough for release into the flying display. We need them to be able to fly around to the various flowers and feed themselves.
Our largest butterflies, the owls and blue morphos that are the size of your hand, can take half a day to dry. We let their activity level guide us. When they’re practically beating at the glass, it’s definitely time for release.
With visitors pressing up against the glass all day, it’s impossible to keep clean, sorry. I still like the stained glass effect of the butterflies with the sunlight pouring through.
Making My First Mandala
I loved the idea of a mandala from my first hearing. Tibetan Buddhist monks create “paintings” with colored sand, then sweep the sand together and pour it into flowing water.
This is a simplistic picture, of course. The spiritual connotations – the outer/inner/secret layers, the deities invoked, the alleged healing powers – are not mine to explain. But I was captivated by this embrace of the impermanence of existence. Later, becoming part of the Burning Man community taught me to better appreciate immediacy in all experiences, to enjoy without focusing on preserving.
So when Dow Gardens, a local 110-acre public garden, announced a garden mandala workshop I was all in and drafted my sister to join me. We’ll learn how, I said, and then we can make more at home.
The idea was simple: gather materials from the annual beds. Shape them into mandalas of flowers and leaves, on backdrops of grass or stone or ground. Take a photo and leave your work for visitors to enjoy for the few days it will last.
The execution was a bit more involved. First, there was the group’s excitement at being at a place where the etiquette includes “Please do not remove plant material,” being cautioned this was a SPECIAL EXCEPTION, and being handed a bag and a set of snips. Seriously? We got to cut things? Just the annuals, we were cautioned, because those are on their way out anyway. That still left a wide variety of colors, shapes and textures … like this, the hugest celosia I’ve ever seen:
More guidelines. Plan a circle, we were told, and break it into a pattern of quarters. (Not everyone followed this; one person made a heart.) Try to cut only what you think you will use. But most of all, enjoy the process. This should be relaxing and reflective.
It was, and it wasn’t. Being able to clip whatever I found most striking was a treat. I move slowly, though, and brought a walker to cover the half-mileish distance, so I took a lot of breaks and went for highlighting favorites, not abundance. My mandala would look less like a filled-in pizza and more like a dreamcatcher.
No matter. When it came to choosing a site, I found a hunk of driftwood to my liking as a backdrop. The gardens have many chipmunk residents, and I liked the idea of involving the natives in my project. Interactive art! While I was working, a squirrel passed behind, and I laughed because I had what looked like squirrel tails among my plants:
I admired the work of my neighbors, some of whom added butterfly wings and other items they had brought from home. One had a dried dragonfly as her centerpiece. Like us, they plan to continue this practice. My sister wants to make a mandala in winter with the dried bits in her yard. I’m thinking of making another one very soon, with the bright black-eyed Susans and showy goldenrod in my front yard, a bit of sunny reflection in the outlawn.
How has my first mandala fared? I have no idea. I took a photo and walked away. The rest is out of my hands and I feel peaceful about that.
Plant Pic, 092023 edition
The hostas in the front garden finally are blooming. They’re among the last of the year, with the black-eyed Susans and the showy goldenrod. Sadly, these don’t have much scent.
Pet Pic, Black Walnut Edition
We did not grant permission for black walnut storage in our shed. #squirrelsquatters
Butterfly Diary 2020, #5
When Butterflies in Bloom extended to Wednesday evenings, it was one of my favorite times to volunteer because the residents would start roosting … cuddling up for bedtime, I would tell young children. This is from the sole Wednesday shift I was able to work this year, around 5 p.m. March 11. No word yet on whether we can open for the last scheduled week of the exhibit.
Butterfly Diary 2020, #4
This butterfly chose the large sculpture in the center of the Conservatory for a resting place.
Plant Pic, 032320 edition
This reminds me of the variegated hostas I favor.
Beth's Planet 