We live in a culture that has to name everything. Something does not exist unless we have a word to define it, to identify it by. People feel uneasy with vagueness, with blurriness. I am no exception. Case in point - the naming of this blog. I agonized over the selection process, not wanting the title to indicate something insipid or, worse - something akin to a laxative! (The over-fifty crowd are beginning to closely identify with fiber and by that I mean the metamucil kind!) What to do? Dive in, that's what, and hope that the colon-cleansing population doesn't follow. Or, if they do, pray that they have a keen interest in knitting, quilting, gardening and the like!
So I went out to the garden where everything has a name. And I was furiously edging and weeding and digging when my focus shifted and something wonderful came into view ...
He/She was upside down and munching industriously on a milkweed leaf. Usually I pull up the weeds long before they mature enough to attract such a creature. But my long borders resembled foster children this season - taking a back seat to the glory and abundance of the vegetable and herb gardens. Quietly the milkweed inched up and elbowed out some japonica anemones. And while I MISS those anemones, I am happy to have provided a home for this creature. And his/her friends -
Ladybug love. They just wouldn't sit quietly for the photo shoot - they had other things on their minds. My good neighbor Andy wandered over - he wondered what I was looking at and asked for a NAME. Monarch Butterfly Andy, Monarch Butterfly caterpillars. The good guys. The ones that we must do whatever we can to ensure that they reach maturity, and dazzle us with their beauty. Upon closer inspection I discovered that there were at least two of these chubby guys dining at the Milkweed Cafe. So I tiptoed off and left them to their dinners.
The mimosa tree is displaying its gorgeous seed pods. Talk about ART! If Art imitates Nature, then someone needs to get busy imitating this loveliness. Maybe that someone should be me. Where to begin?