Stepping into September Haze Ironweed Holds Center Stage

August gave us cool days dressed in flannel and comforter nights . . . the coolest August I can recall since my transplanting to New England just thirty-eight years ago. Mostly busy days filled the weeks that passed in tones of green, with worldly guests and migrations stirring motes of dust, pollen and memories . . . both lived and dreamed. 

The last hours of Augustus suddenly lead into September's first dawn . . . breaking through a thick haze of clouded air with bolts of zagged light only Zeus could throw around this old farmhouse. I was sure the power would go out or worse, but we were spared, this time, and when the new, once seventh, month took hold in a fresh day . . .  the air was less heavy with only empty threats of lightning and downpours. Frightening storms floating off to the east . . . the air refreshed, and heaviness lifted, a page on the calendar is turned . . . and the small purple florets of Ironweed takes center stage in the middle meadow garden.

At last a Monarch settled long enough for me to catch its portrait whilst sipping from the teeny petals of Ironweed . . . this being only my second glimpse of a Monarch Butterfly in the garden, this year, so far.

Ironweed stately stands reaching nearly the eight-foot height of Joe-pye weed, adding a bright brush stroke of regal purple to the landscape painting. Touches of yellow come into play with Rudbeckia and Solidago.

Greater Spangled Fritilaries join in the feast of Ironweed. 

One worn out from weeks of flight throughout August with a fresh Fritillary September emergence.

Autumn, but three weeks away, will paint the apples in deeper red hues. 

By now, many of the bouncy snowballs of Annabelle's Hydrangea are carpeting the garden floor revealing the Tree Hydrangea beginning to blush in the background.

Viburnum seeds, nearly gone, have filled the bellies of Cedar Waxwings, Catbirds, Robins, Flickers and more resident Aves.

Though we miss the many songs and calls of birds, now gone or silent, Katydids and grasshoppers create such a cacophony between every blade of grass falling like a mysterious, musical mantle over the inky nights.

Not quite a violin, but there are actions within these wings striking together in atonal harmony.

Grasses cut a soft and feathery feel amongst green striking stalks . . . catching light while slicing through the canopy of sky, enveloping Flower Hill Farm, and tickling the muse of darkness.

September will summon silky tassels from within these taller Miscanthus greens. 

This tiny, iridescent juvenile's parents have long begun their migration southward bound. I continue to delight in the antics and jewel-like presence of the young Ruby-throated Hummingbirds . . . though knowing they too will be parting soon. Enjoying the days with all the many treasures without clinging . . . knowing ephemeral joys are for moments only . . .  we move with gratitude into September's ways.

Peace blossoms with justice . . . would that it could be alive in the hearts of all humankind. Our voices, pens and keyboards must be loud like the Katydids wing-songs filling congress and our president's mind with woe for what they may be about to sanction. Life is precious and fragile.

Flower Hill Farm Butterflies of 2012 ~ Fritillaries

Todays segment of 'Flower Hill Farm Butterflies of 2012' features the boldly flecked Fritillaries. It seems the only Fritillary that flies about our gardens these days is the Greater Spangled Fritillary Speyeria cybele. Early on, I mistakenly identified these butterflies as Aphrodite Fritillary, but the eminent Lepidopterist Randy Emmitt pointed out that the large beige band near the edge of the outer hindwing indicates that these are in fact Greater Spangled Fritillaries. 

I do so enjoy these butterflies whatever we humans tend to call them. There is but one single flight period for the fritillaries beginning in June and stretching into early September.

Giant Ironweed Vernonia gigantea is a native butterfly magnet with nourishing nectar for many butterflies and bees. I would never call it a weed, for it is very showy and stands beautifully with other late summer plants. The flowers are lovely especially when wearing strikingly, speckled wings.

Monarch butterflies frequent this valued native too. 

Fritillaries also love our non native butterfly bush. We only have the one plant which dies back each year. I have never seen a seedling. If you live in a more temperate climate, Buddleia can and does become invasive through seeding, I believe . . . so you might be sure to deadhead or consider alternatives. I confess to loving my sole bush, as long as it behaves, that offers long plump, purple, panicles of blooms for all sorts of butterflies and bees to land upon. A little Skipper sips near the Greater Spangled Fritillary. Hummingbirds also love this native of China. Climate change may well make this species an unwelcome visitor, but for now it is a showy and giving member of our garden just outside the farmhouse and studio.

A Painted Lady nectars along side two Fritillary butterflies.

Joe Pye weed Eutrochium purpureum, is another great native that Fritillaries, along with other butterflies, moths and bees are attracted to for its bounty of nectar. This tall member of the Asteraceae family is a comely, compatible companion to the impressive Giant Ironweed.

The wide beige band between the two rows of white markings is clearly illustrated in the image above. Again, this is a telltale sign that the butterfly is a Greater Spangled Fritillary and not an Aphrodite. I imagine the name greater spangled is for the glint of the white, silvery-spotted wings.

The first instar Fritillary caterpillar overwinters here beneath or near a violet plant its mother Fritillary would have fastened its egg to towards the end of August or early September. Once out of the egg the tiny caterpillar eats only the egg casing before dropping or crawling down to find a leaf or other detritus to serve as protective cover throughout the winter. Remember not to be such a fastidious gardener and instead leave safe houses for lots of overwintering caterpillars, chrysalises and butterflies.

The Fritillary caterpillars, that survive the birds and rabbits, will awake in May when the violets begin to leaf out and munch their way into June, until they feel an urge for change and seek a safe rock or log where they can privately morph into a brown chrysalis. With the passing of two weeks or so a butterfly will emerge . . . the males usually emerge first flitting about seeking a suitable female who pushes her way out of the chrysalis a bit later than the males.

Speaking of males, I was drawn away from my writing this morning by these toms way down by the forest edge.  I could not lift the lens that would make these more vivid images. Wild Turkeys are busy stepping around lifting up leaves and debris in search of some of those overwintering delectables I have been writing about in this series of butterfly posts.

Shooting into the sun does not make for very vivid photos either but I love the way the tom's wattles are lit up by the bright early morning light. I am afraid the Wild Turkeys notice my presence, when I step out to get a better look, and quickly take off to the lower lands and into the cover of the forest.

I usually hear Wild Turkeys before I see them . . .  for there is some impressive courtship and alpha male vocalizing going on right now. I note a few hens in a lower field, while the toms are still stepping out together. There will be a split up soon and a group of toms will go off on their own leaving the dominant gobbler to care for the hens. I hope they have not found too many of the overwintering caterpillars and chrysalises and yet I want these beasts to be healthy and happy too.

My first 2013 sighting, just this morning, of a Palm Warbler  Dendroica palmarum. I notice at once that this little guy is busy scurrying along the ground looking for those tiny morsels of caterpillar and chrysalis like the robins, turkeys and bluebirds. I am so amazed any butterflies ever make it to fly in our gardens and fields.

This sweet songbird may have made it back here from Florida or as far as the Caribbean.  

Next up on the Butterflies of 2012 I will share some of our resident Skippers and then a post on the Monarchs before the grand finale. 

Monarch Butterflies Wild About The Gardens

Throughout the summer and fall 

Monarchs and other butterflies readily flutter to native plants in the garden 

and seem to prefer them over most all others . . . 

with exception to our taller than usual butterfly bush.

Joe-pye weed, Eupatorium purpureum L. is a favorite plant of mine for its large sculptural quality. Butterflies, moths and bees love the sweets hidden within numerous tiny florets. 

Liatris is another favored native and great pollinator attractor. 

Ironweed, Veronia gigantea (perhaps) is also a prized native . . .  

offering beauty in its grand height and plenty of nectar for a multitude of butterflies and bees. 

  

A Monarch and Great Spangled Fritillary butterfly share a cluster of Ironweed blooms.

A Monarch and Painted Lady quietly feeding. 

The florets of Ironweed keep attracting butterflies into early fall. 

Sedum 'Autumn Joy' . . . though not a native . . . adds a bit of variety to the nectar palate. 

The last two of the Monarch butterflies finally decide it is time to emerge after four weeks in their chrysalises and I am able to release them out into the gardens. 

There are no other butterflies around on the chilly October day . . .  just last week  . . . as I usher them out on bracts of a native aster.

One is off! The other Monarch does later fly out into the lower field and I hope they were able to fly away further south that day for it got very cold overnight. 

And so . . . my Monarch butterfly series comes to a close . . . until another year. 

Millions are flying towards Mexico and perhaps some of the precious ones I was lucky to know will make it to the boreal forests high in the mountains beyond Mexico City. 

It was a wonderful butterfly season . . . I have a few more species to share.

Speaking of sharing . . . let me put in a plug for my latest Bestiary installment . . . you can see it at

  Native Plants and Wildlife Gardens.
All about the Wild Turkeys I have spied here at Flower Hill Farm. 

Black Swallowtail Metamorphosis Misty August Garden

Black Swallowtail Papilio polyxenes 

I will be sharing more of the magical Monarch Butterfly Metamorphosis . . .

 but first I want to go back to earlier this spring and share the striking 

Black Swallowtail Butterfly and its metamorphosis with you. 

 A male Black Swallowtail from last year . . . the first one I had the joy to raise.

I was delighted to eyed this female ovipositing this May. 

She may have overwinter here in her pupa. 

Once she flies away,

 I discover an egg attached to Bishop's weed growing along the path. 

Aegopodium podagraria is of the Apiaceae or carrot family. 

I wish for millions of Black Swallowtail butterflies, for perhaps they can help me 

manage the pernicious Bishop's weed.  

The dark head of the tiny caterpillar can be seen in this photograph. 

A new beginning about to emerge . . . 

Having its first meal. 

Second or third instar. 

The Black Swallowtail caterpillar chooses the underside of an orchid leaf to unveil her chrysalis.

A perfect female Black Swallowtail

Releasing a healthy female into the late May gardens . . . perhaps she will become acquainted 

with the lively male (below) already enjoying the garden milkweed. 

   

Male Black Swallowtail

There are many more Black Swallowtails flying about the gardens 

but I have not eyed another egg to bring inside. 

This was the first 'inside' complete metamorphosis for the 2012 season . . . 

a couple of months before I found my first Monarch egg in the garden path. 

I have shared more information on the Black Swallowtail Butterfly's life cycle

 in another post over at Native Plants and Wildlife Gardens. 

Now nearly half way into August . . . 

days go by bringing many scattered thunderstorms 

sometimes dropping heavy downpours . . . 

the gardens and trees so appreciate the rain.

Mornings are often misty, cool and soft.

Butterflies enjoy the sunny afternoons. 

I continue to see many Monarchs, Black Swallowtails 

and several other varieties of butterflies flitting about the native plants.

There is a small Monarch caterpillar community in my barn studio.

This morning I was working hard trying to capture a teeny caterpillar 

emerging from its egg, while a female Monarch was flying about just

outside the window laying eggs on milkweed plants. Other caterpillars were

molting, while one was about to spin its mat and node so that it can hang

and unveil its chrysalis. 

All this and more goes on within the small view of the garden above too . . . 

truly miraculous to observe natures never ending small wonders.