I have a few minutes before a family outing, so I’m in a rocking chair on my front porch, Nikon in hand, long lens in place, hoping for butterflies.
I’ve seen Monarchs and large yellow exotic-looking creatures here before, but on this warm afternoon, the visitors seem a bit more mundane, some skippers and a painted lady to spice it up.
I can’t help but move. I want to be closer, to see the little visitors in more detail, although I can’t get less than five feet away and have my camera focus.
I shoot photo after photo. Digital photography seems like such a blessing and a curse—so easy to shoot and shoot and shoot.
There, the painted lady is facing me. Oh, now a side view.
Then, two butterflies are on the same cluster of flowers—will I capture them both?
Wanting a short break and a change of scenery, I wander over to check out a drought-stricken hydrangea that is just now coming into bloom. I see a medium sized black wasp and raise my camera, but it’s gone.
So I go back to the butterfly bush, where I discover what the wasp is up too-sucking nectar from the same bush as the butterflies.
Well, I’m glad the Japanese beetles are departing, leaving this bush to the wasps, but mostly to the butterflies. A butterfly bush is delicate—it dies to the ground each winter—and it’s not particularly showy. But it lives up to it’s name, and that’s enough.
Maybe tomorrow a monarch will deign to visit …