I met this swallowtail caterpillar while pulling weeds in garden plot at a school I am working at in Atlanta. Thankfully, he was willing to travel with me upstairs to the classroom where he met many young humans who were gentle, inquisitive, and excited to meet such a fine specimen of his species. When Forest Friday was over and he and I were packing up to leave he gave the kids one last surprise.. he pooped on me. Funny thing, people generally don’t think of insects pooping, but considering all the leaves caterpillars eat it wasn’t surprising at all for me.. after they were completely grossed out my friend the swallowtail caterpillar and I went back to the garden where I found him and there I left him to hopefully eat some more, poop some more, and one day soon become a beautiful butterfly.
Fork Tailed Bush Kaydid Nymph
I mean, just look at this. Have you ever seen anything like it? This. This, my friends.. These are the things that keep me up at night - chasing down the identity of a new friend, someone completely alien to me. I mean, look at those feelers, the black eyes, and that mandible.. Those legs! Those feet! And the red stripes.. How did this come to look like this? Seriously.. It's more than I can stand. I am completely infatuated.. Mesmerized.. And to think.. when this wild critter grows into an adult it will add to the cacophony of sound I hear right outside of my window as I type this. Welcome to my garden young katydid. Hark! The season of insects is upon us!
Home
The view from my happy place after a busy day turning soil. There's a flicker, a great crested fly catcher, the summer tanagers have arrived, the wood thrush sings in the morning, there are juvenile chickadees.. and I am grateful for my slow paced life.
Memories
(Memories)
Every year when this flower blooms I am reminded my of Grandma Rabun. She was probably the kindest most loving woman I have ever known. She gave me these bulbs when I was very young and I have carried them with me everywhere I have lived. I look forward to them bursting out of their tightly wrapped buds overflowing with textures and patterns and silky petals. An iris's center - the perfect sneak peek to the coming orgasmic explosion waiting for just the right moment to erupt.
I started gardening because of these flowers. I had to have a place for them. My grandmother did not have a lot when she left this earth other than her family and her flowers. And with the planting of her bulbs in my new home as a youngly married princess to my prince charming came my love of the earth in a whole new way. As I consider this it is funny to me now because everyone in my family always had a lovely vegetable patch and I spent most of my summer days in them..
but those..
those were vegetables.
An Iris is a flower.. A stunning work of beauty that bursts out of the leaves on a single fragile stem for all to see, but they do not let us forget they are there quietly waiting all year with their triangular pointed leaves..
Flowers..
Iris's brought this rebellious soul back to the garden in the most subtle way - in the way only my Grandma Rabun could have taught me to do it.
And, so, with every Spring I wait. I watch. I tend the garden around the bulbs making sure we're all set for this growing season. When my Grandma's beautiful irises arrive I make sure I turn my eyes to them daily until they are all done for another season and then, I get back to my vegetables.. (the way she would have wanted me to).
