nature

I’ve had milkweed for years but never been fortunate enough to attract a monarch butterfly. The only thing monarchs can eat is milkweed, Many times, I’ve made the rounds of garden centers hoping to find a plant laden with a caterpillar. Last week, I finally snagged two plants with the coveted caterpillars. As soon as I got them home, I tucked the plants with my little friends in the protective net enclosure I had tucked back for a lucky day.

I was so happy to have them safely home I went back a couple of times to check that they were still munching along.

Yesterday morning I found they had pupated and were attached to their little house. They should morph into butterflies in about fourteen days.

For more information check out the link and article below:

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A monarch butterfly sips nectar from a swamp milkweed flower
A monarch butterfly sipping nectar from swamp milkweed. | Image Details

Our beloved butterfly

With its iconic orange and black markings, the monarch butterfly is one of the most recognizable species in North America. Monarchs are particularly remarkable because they migrate each year, flying from as far as Canada and across the United States to congregate at a few forested overwintering sites in the mountains of central Mexico and coastal California. These sites are an amazing phenomenon: thousands of monarchs cluster in the trees in California, and millions of monarchs drape large swathes of forest in Mexico.

But over the past two decades, monarch numbers in North America have declined, prompting the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to join Tribes, state agencies, other federal agencies and non-government groups to identify threats to the monarch and take steps to conserve monarchs throughout their range.

Working together to save the monarch

As the premiere conservation agency in the United States, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service has the responsibility to ensure that the monarch migration phenomenon continues. It’s going to take everyone – from government agencies to individuals to ensure a future filled with monarchs. You can do your part for monarchs in your backyard, in your back forty and along every back road.

We’re “all in” on monarch conservation. And we can’t do it alone. We’re focused on increasing monarch habitat on the lands we manage and engaging with all partners on monarch conservation, including Tribes, state and federal agencies and conservation groups.

Monarch butterflies are known for their impressive long-distance migration and large clusters they form while overwintering in Mexico and coastal California. Once abundant, monarch butterfly populations have been steadily declining since the mid-1990s due to several threats. Here, you can find information about how you can help monarchs, contribute to their habitat and find resources and assistance to help guide your actions.

Learn more about the monarch species.

https://www.fws.gov/media/oembed?url=https%3A//www.youtube.com/watch%3Fv%3DD6n9rgwcGpw&max_width=0&max_height=0&hash=KMO5f5FSfBBgu8-k3Gn5xBS4kpRpyF4eUT-OXGtqz6k

A tagged monarch butterfly on a yellow flower
A tagged monarch butterfly on a native sunflower. | Image Details

You can help save the monarch

Everyone can play a role in monarch conservation.

Learn more about ways you can get involved:

Status under the Endangered Species Act

Is the monarch federally protected now?

No. We have proposed to list the monarch butterfly as threatened under the Endangered Species Act. Protections would not apply until the effective date of a final rule. Learn more about the process to list a species as threatened or endangered.

Proposal to list as threatened

We’re seeking public comment on a proposed rule to list the monarch butterfly as a threatened species (4.1MB PDF) under the Endangered Species Act. The listing proposal is accompanied by a proposed critical habitat designation for the species at its overwintering grounds in coastal California and a proposed 4(d) rule that offers species-specific protections and flexibilities to encourage conservation.

According to the most recent monarch Species Status Assessment, by 2080 the probability of extinction for eastern monarchs ranges from 56 to 74% and the probability of extinction for western monarchs is greater than 95%. Threats to the species include the loss and degradation of breeding, migratory and overwintering habitat, exposure to insecticides and the effects of climate change .

Press release: Monarch butterfly warrants Endangered Species Act protections

https://www.fws.gov/media/oembed?url=https%3A//www.youtube.com/watch%3Fv%3DOcMiw70sQ90&max_width=0&max_height=0&hash=2OwUvAVl_EUUkEozVN5QNLnOUCinJVT-x76yfDL6ozQ

Mother’s Garden

Mother is ninety-seven and recently moved to an independent living facility. She has happily transformed her patio into a garden, already. She is at the garden center grabbing plants every time she can finagle a ride. My sister ,Connie and her husband, Tim, built this beautiful garden box and filled it with luscious flowers. They are currently her favorite family.

She is nurturing these beauties along a trellis adjacent to her patio. Mother had a lush garden at her little cottage before she moved here but I do believe she’s gone over the edge now.

Sadly for my budget, I inherited her obsession. I am on my way out now to put out hydrangeas and petunias.

Lou and Lynn Part 20 Facing the Bully: A Tale of Frogs and Friendship

The next morning right after breakfast, Aunt Kat told the girls she needed a favor. “I need you girls to go to Miss Betsy’s and borrow her steam iron. Mine is still in the repair shop and I have to catch up on my ironing today.”

”Can I go?” wheedled Billy.

”Sure, if you promise not to fight with Lynn.”

”Okay.” he answered happily.
It was a wonderful day to be out for a ramble. The sky was a brilliant blue and the day not too hot yet. As they neared Miss Betsy’s, Billy said,”I hope that old mean Chris ain’t in the yard.” He seemed a little anxious.

”It’s okay if he is. He’s not gonna bother us. Don’t you remember?” Lynn said. Y’all just do what I say. When I give the signal, pretend to pull a frog out of your pocket and holler ‘Ribbit!’ It’ll be fine.”

”Who’s Chris? What does he do?”

”He’s a horrible bully.” Lynn said. “He’s so mean he hits his own dog with a stick. He used to throw rocks at us when we walked in front of his house. One day, Mother was drinking coffee with Miss Betsy next door to his house. Billy and I hid in the bushes and spied on him. His mama was making him help her in the flower bed and a frog jumped on him. He was scared to death of that little, old frog. He was jumping around and screaming his head off! “Get it off me! Get it off me!” He was screaming like a devil had him. It was hilarious to see a

bully act like such a scaredy cat! Early the next morning before school, me and Billy went to the pond and caught a big frog. I put in in my pocket. When I got to class, I slipped it in Chris’s jacket pocket hanging on his desk chair. I kind of forgot about it. Miss Jones had us taking turns reading aloud. When it was Karen’s turn, the frog made a big old ‘Ribbit’ frog sound. Everybody laughed. Miss Jones said’Who did that?’ Nobody said anything. Karen started reading again. Suddenly ‘Ribbit’ again! Miss Jones said,’Whoever did that is going to be in big trouble.’ The frog let out another big ‘Ribbit!’ and hopped out of Chris’s pocket. He went crazy screaming’Get it off me! Get it off me!’l

Then the frog jumped up on Chris’s collar. Chris went wild, knocking over his chair and scattering his books. The other kids were acting like clowns. Finally, someone caught the frog and put it out. Miss Jones was furious! She thought he’d sneaked a frog in to disrupt the class since his behavior was always so bad. He got in so much trouble. I wanted to laugh every time I thought of it the rest of the day.

Sure enough, Chris was in his front yard, watching them walk toward him. “Where do you think you’re going?” He demanded.

”We’re going to Miss Betsy’s but we all brought you a little present. You want to see? With that, all three pretended to pull a frog out of their pockets and called out ‘Ribbit! Ribbit!’

Chris took off, bellowing “Mama! Mama”

They all nearly collapsed, laughing.

Nature Calls

My whole life, I have hungered for the outdoors. It has always calmed and fulfilled me.  My earliest memories were of Mother telling me I couldn’t go out till the dew dried.  Many, many times, she caught me outdoors barefoot with a muddy-tailed nightgown before breakfast.  Inclement weather was no impediment.  We simply played in the barn, slipping out the instant the downpour was over.  More likely than not, we’d end up wet anyway, then stay out till our clothes dried enough it wasn’t immediately obvious.  So much of the time I worked as a nurse, I’d go to work before daylight and come home long after dark, working on a windowless unit that shut out all hope of a glimmer of sunshine.  One of life’s greatest blessings is that after retirement, I am free again.  My husband and I camp a great deal, seeing a lot of the beach and the mountains.  While he fly fishes, I spend my time walking with my dogs, dabbling in the water, or just being.  I can’t claim to be a fly fisher person, but I never met a fly fisherman I didn’t like.  I usually cook outdoors in my Dutch Ovens over an open fire.  My posts have come to you from the hills and riversides of Arkansas, Texas, Oklahoma and from the beaches along the Gulf of Mexico.  Next summer we plan to spend time with friends in Canada and the Northwest.  I am grateful to be “Chilling” at this time in my life.

This picture was from one of life’s finest moments.  Someone called to see if I could come in and work a shift for them a few days after I retired.  Sent the picture with the explanation,  “Sorry.  I’m busy!”

hammock

Camping Lessons: Spare Glasses Saved Me from Disaster

   image Dirty Dog

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We just got back from camping on the Gulf Coast.  We had fun and I learned a couple of things. First of all, if you think you might fall and bust your fanny, carry your extra glasses.  I was standing behind the trailer trying to wave Bud in as he backed the trailer up and Buzzy wrapped me in his leash, plopping me flat on my keester. I fell flat, banging right on my glasses.   I hadn’t gotten in Bud’s line of vision yet, so he thought I’d wandered off, as I am prone to do.  He continued backing up, but fortunately I was able to get out of the way before he flattened me.

Although the fall did kill my glasses, I escaped.  I was worried whether I would have a black eye, but luckily I didn’t.  If I had, I would have to have blacked both Bud’s eyes or I would have been ashamed to be seen when we met friends later.  I was able to get the frames replaced, using the same lenses.  What a relief.  I had dreaded trying to get by with just reading glasses till I could get new ones made.  I will never go off without a spare again.

Buzzy had a fine time camping as always.  We patrolled the camp several times a day.  He got to meet new dogs, see an alligator, smell the Gulf, roll in some different flavors of mud, walk on the beach, and sleep in the camper.  His favorite part of camping is sitting on the bench seat between us at meals.  He doesn’t get a place at the table at home.

I Loved Lucy

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When I met Lucy, it was love at first site. Not romantic love, but the best kind, true friend love. A freckled redhead, Lucy’s hands were covered in warts. Everybody knew you got warts from playing with frogs. I played with frogs every chance I got, but so far had not been able to acquire the warts I coveted.
Naturally, I still had to ask, admiringly, How’d you git them warts?” I always took the subtle approach.
“How do you think? From playin’ with frogs, Dummy. Frogs’ backs is covered with warts.” My admiration grew exponentially, a girl who liked frogs and wasn’t afraid to say “pee” without looking around to make sure her mama couldn’t hear. I had a hard life. My own mother made us say “wee wee” and swore she’d know if we EVER said “pee.” “Pee” was vulgar. I’d had my behind paddled more than once for getting caught.
“Have you got any frogs now? I want to see them warts.” I had to know.
“Sure. There’s always some at the creek.” She took off with me following. Wading in, we were soon rich in frogs. Catching a couple, we examined them, finding their backs splendidly populated with warts.
We passed an idyllic afternoon with those frogs in the cool creek.I still remember the feel of those scratchy warts on my fingers. Tadpoles frolicked joyously in shady pools, just out of our reach. Wet and muddy to the waist, that day I knew perfect joy. Time stood still. Long before I’d had my fill of warty frog fun, Mother called out saying it was time to go, but not before I slipped a couple of frogs in my pocket.
“Oh no! I gotta go.” I whined.
“That’s okay. Next time you come back, we’ll git you a snake.” She promised.
I got the snake, but never did get my warts.

Run for the Hills

Photo courtesy of Wendy Irizarry

At first glance I thought this snake was so cute until I realized what his business in the birdhouse was.

The birdhouse itself has a story. It was given to my husband many years ago by a coworker who knew we loved to garden. Seems the birdhouse was built and painted by a little boy named Charlie. Charlie had Autism. And cancer. Building the birdhouse was a tremendous feat for Charlie, and I can imagine how proud he was of it. Sadly Charlie lost his battle with cancer, and the birdhouse sat in the closet until it came to us. We chose not to paint it, or alter it in any way, and hung Charlie’s masterpiece in a prominent place in our garden. A tribute to a little boy, and a reminder to us that life is precious.

What a great, but horrifying picture.  Thanks, Wendy.

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Perfect Timing

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Camping

   image Dirty Dog

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We just got back from camping on the Gulf Coast.  We had fun and I learned a couple of things. First of all, if you think you might fall and bust your fanny, carry your extra glasses.  I was standing behind the trailer trying to wave Bud in as he backed the trailer up and Buzzy wrapped me in his leash, plopping me flat on my keester. I fell flat, banging right on my glasses.   I hadn’t gotten in Bud’s line of vision yet, so he thought I’d wandered off, as I am prone to do.  He continued backing up, but fortunately I was able to get out of the way before he flattened me.

Although the fall did kill my glasses, I escaped.  I was worried whether I would have a black eye, but luckily I didn’t.  If I had, I would have to have blacked both Bud’s eyes or I would have been ashamed to be seen when we met friends later.  I was able to get the frames replaced, using the same lenses.  What a relief.  I had dreaded trying to get by with just reading glasses till I could get new ones made.  I will never go off without a spare again.

Buzzy had a fine time camping as always.  We patrolled the camp several times a day.  He got to meet new dogs, see an alligator, smell the Gulf, roll in some different flavors of mud, walk on the beach, and sleep in the camper.  His favorite part of camping is sitting on the bench seat between us at meals.  He doesn’t get a place at the table at home.