Winter Blues ~ Eastern-tailed Blue, Summer Azure and Silvery Blue

Dreaming of Blues fluttering around the garden can shake off the mantle-of-melancholy winter sometimes weaves about our spirits. Today, I gather some delightful, inspiring and tender butterfly encounters, from this past sizzling summer, and toss them on this page of white, that they may bring a ray of light, to warm the inner gardeners folded inside our longing souls. 

Eastern Tailed-Blue Butterflies of 2013

The progeny of these gossamer-wings are now chrysalises, or caterpillars in the Eastern Tailed-Blue's case, tucked away in crevices within mossy mounds, pods of vetches and clover, or along the frozen winter ground. Little fragile beings within their sleepy pupa or larva state, without realizing their fate, without questioning, without knowing, without hoping to survive the onslaught of freeze and thaw, human flaws and sharp bird beaks, simply, sweetly sleep, waiting for transformation. 

Summer Azure Butterflies of 2013

Holding on throughout the bleak winter months, many new Blues will emerge, along with our gladdened hearts, into the warm breath of spring. I hope and imagine hundreds of butterflies surviving the numerous perils that come between them and their completed metamorphosis. Such gossamery treasures tickle emotions and call the caring mind to action in thoughtful ways towards their wellbeing. An added appreciation for subtleties in shades of blues and grays awakens this slothful painter, when gazing upon the pastel Blues.

Silvery Blue Butterflies of 2013

Without snow cover, butterfly chrysalises and caterpillars are more vulnerable. Just beneath the old apple tree, gray birch and blueberry bushes, precious life is quietly in hiding.

I love birds too and they enjoy all the stages of butterflies equally, especially at this lean time of year.  No snow coverage is good news for this little Carolina Wren, who has decided to move in and live year round.

Wren and other bird beaks are perfect for lifting up the leaves and digging for larva nuggets below. Too bad for the butterflies being of the lower food chain, but then, butterflies fasten hundreds and hundreds of eggs to various host plants assuring there will always be trembling gossamer-wings to pollinate and touch our hearts. I say, always, but heedless humans do have a hand in the decline of butterflies of all kinds.

Foggy, frosty, winter morning sunrises are wondrous to behold just outside the windows and doors. I feel blessed to start the day in this inspiring way. A branch of the Mill River runs between the hill where Flower Hill Farm is situated and Carey Hill just due east, making for a great show of mist most every dawn. I am less excited about the sheet of wood smoke that is always more gray.

Millions of unique snowflakes fall, thickening a fleecy snow-blanket, sheltering tiny life. It is heart-warming to know of all the diverse, quiescent wildlife sleeping beneath the surface of snow in layers of detritus deeper below. In the dance of life, all is in limbo, uncertainties abound upon a blanketed earth.

Winter can be beautiful in its frozen snow-blossom way. Creating an ever changing wonderland with a great deal to explore, to ponder and exclaim about. It can soften the mind and loosen binding thoughts of gloom. If its beauty fails to lift our spirits, it may help to remember that the little Blues are placidly waiting too. 

A Late Autumn Palette Within A Community of Trees

In thinking along the stream of thought inspired by Wendall Berry, I have been pondering 'my place' within my place and the community I am blessed to have membership in. I am speaking of the land, of the trees and shrubberies, of the species of butterflies and bees and birds that coexist here at Flower Hill Farm. There is a language I have come to understand and the understanding came as soon as I let go of the ideas of gardening I held true and when I stopped and listened to the needs of the life all around me. 

A Shagbark Hickory out in the upper garden and a Rock Maple (Sugar Maple) on the south side of the old farmhouse are both wearing cloaks of Climbing Hydrangea. The Rock Maple's yellow fleece will be getting a good trim once the leaves have all fallen, for I do not wish to cover the maple's beautiful bark.

Copious carpets of leaves linger until a blustery wind whips them around the gardens. Like a down comforter the leaves softly lay upon the ground sheltering many sleeping insects.

The community I belong to here is so wildly wondrous and giving. 

Our favorite Black Cherry had a rough beginning but with determination it grew over and above the conditions trying to hold it back. 

Ever reaching towards cloud and sky, the native cherry also survived losing half of its canopy two years ago.  I believe all the neighboring members of the community felt the shock and I was deeply concerned for its survival. 

In the photograph above, taken in October of 2009, the Black Cherry was still sporting its full canopy of flaxen tresses. There is danger in a V when worn by a tree.  Just at the V. . .  the entire branching going off to the right split off and was hanging threatening a deadly tear. It was skillfully cut off before that could happen.

The singular serpentine Black Cherry sometimes makes me imagine a wild black stallion with a golden or green mane grazing in the north field. There is an ongoing dialogue and connection between the cherry and two White Oaks nearby. They together form a triangle. The trees are in constant communication through their network of slender root tendrils below. Perhaps there are also connections being channeled above ground.

Besides it unique form this Black Cherry also holds a dear friend's ashes within its roots and crusty body. We call it 'Michael's tree'. He was a man who loved trees and is forever a beloved member of this community.

The Black Cherry seems to be thriving and continues to be the preferred canopy of the Baltimore Orioles each spring and summer. 

Autumn's blaze is more muted now with sturdy White Oaks painting the landscape burnt sienna. Throughout the gardens, the shrubberies and plants are still turning yellows and reds but the hillside is all gray, evergreen and burnt sienna.

It has been one of the most beautiful and long lasting falls I can recall. It was as if every tree sang out . . . a choir of vibrant leafy voices carried by a breath of wind throughout the landscape. The river and rivulets below join in plashing their melodious meanderings about the wood. It was a joy to experience it all.

Two weeks ago I eyed an Eastern-tailed Blue in the south field. It was about 70 degrees and there were still some late blooming asters . . . a blossom here and a bloom there. This butterfly over winters as a larva often within a pod of some of the vetches or clovers that grow here . . .  so I do not know what to make of it . . . I hope it had a good life for a few days at least, though other members of the community may have spied it too.

During my walk I also caught sight of a perfect Mourning Cloak . . . who by now has crawled within a crack or crevice of bark or under a rock or fallen branch in its full butterfly form and hopefully will safely sleep throughout the winter months. I will not move any fallen wood at this time nor disturb any assemblages of detritus for they may be home to tiny, delicate members of this diverse commune of life.

Many members feed other members of our community. It is hard at times to love all the species equally and be detached. We have enjoyed a few Yellow-rumped Warblers as they dart about gleaning dried seed heads of goldenrod and other plants scattered within the fields and gardens. They are busy in the trees too harvesting tiny larva and other meaty members. I do not recall seeing these curious warblers in the gardens this late before.

The Yellow-rumped Warblers have now cast off their brighter breeding costumes or perhaps this is a juvenile. 

Come spring again the warblers will be wearing their dark masks and their return will surely be a treat.

Gossamer Wings Part Two ~ Blues

The Blues are a subfamily of the family of Gossamer-wings that I particularly delight in. Standing in the north garden or the 'mini meadow' below the middle gardens, I will always think of the enchantment of these tiny butterflies and how they hold me captive and in awe of their beauty and frisky frolicking. 

One of the first Blues I sighted here at Flower Hill Farm is the Summer Azure Celastrina ladon. I wrote about the Summer Azure on the Summer Solstice . . .  sharing a wondrous encounter with two azures nectaring on lacy florets of goutweed. To my surprise and excitement one butterfly reveals its fine blue pigment usually held hidden within closed wings.

We are looking at teeny scales refracting light . . .  and as that light continuously varies, the eye is filled with a range of values and hues in soft, pale gray-blues.

Intricate marks and muted tones touch a tenderness . . . a mindful thread leading into wonderment at such creations. Leaving anthropomorphism aside, the features of these butterflies are precious and somewhat extraterrestrial, though Blues, along with thousands of other species of the Gossamer-wings family, are very grounded on this earth and have been so for a multitude of years. Seen together here with the complex and exquisite beauty of Milkweed florets I am lucky to frame two wild beings in play.

 Eastern Tailed-Blue Everes comyntas, is a Blue that wears tails and red eyes. This little guy was along the butterfly path where only feet are allowed to tread this year. I walk over from the lower garden in between grassy areas left to flourish in their wildly way, allowing certain butterflies to thrive, and enter a thin path that runs below a hummock, toppling down from the middle meadow garden, and above the blueberry field.

At the beginning, the land forms what appears to be a mini meadow. . .  and there . . . during June . . .  I was sure to encounter a fellow member of the Gossamer-wings family the American Copper on any day I venture there. Now, in July, I have found these little blues sunning and flitting about in this area and further up towards the end of the path that opens out into the north field. I can walk around the fields and gardens for an hour or more . . . even a day may go by . . . and return to find perhaps the same Eastern Tailed-Blue or another one claiming this little microscopic territory as its own.

July third and fourth were particularly fruitful in discovering little blues sunning with full wings open. The blues and grays they display are a palette I hope to emulate at a later date. 

The tails and markings of the Eastern Tailed-Blue reveal a link between the Azures, Eastern Tailed-Blues and Hairstreaks . . . all three fetching flyers.

Towering above this small and dainty being, wearing fragile diaphanous wings, as the heavy heat weighs down on my frame, I barely notice any discomfort, but feel grateful for the gentle breeze that soothes the flesh and aids in the drying of these fresh perfectly, fringed wings.

 Northern Silvery Blue Glaucopsyche lygdamus couperi or simply Silvery Blue.

Here a first discovery of a Silvery Blue in our gardens . . . possibly oviposting on Cow Vetch Vicia cracca,  since these "Switchers" have only one brood flying from May through June. As this female was sighted on June 22 , this rather faded and tattered butterfly is in the last days of its flight period.

Caught in flight the female exhibits a hint of a different hue of blue.

Silvery Blues (Northern ssp.) are called "Switchers" since they are among other Massachusetts butterflies that have switched host plants from a native to a non-native. They seem to reach for the more abundant Cow Vetch. I have now ceased pulling it from the gardens and I hope that the vetch will not become too unruly . . . still you will not hear me kvetch as long as I continue see Silvery Blues and even sometimes Eastern Tailed-Blues, as they too may choose Cow Vetch as a host plant for their young.

We have the blues here at Flower Hill Farm over many of the invasive non-native plants, but the Gossamer-wings Blues help us make peace with our lot. I can wish that your blues will always be of the Gossamer-wings family kind, though I know it cannot always be so. Still, butterflies can bring such a depth of joy and energize one towards being in nature in a less combative way.

Butterflies only demand a habitat, and by learning what their needs are to survive we may just realize our own potential towards finding another form of happiness through a simpler and healthier way of connecting with the earth.

Flower Hill Farm Spring Butterflies ~ Part Two

Spring precipitates into summer and we can easily recognize the longest day of the year by how we measure time in our hurried lives. Spring or Summer Azure Celastrina ladon, Form violacea (and others) is another matter . . .  as the butterflies are difficult to identify.

The more experienced butterfly watchers of the invaluable Massachusetts Butterfly Club kindly share their knowledge and determine the butterflies below to be Summer Azures . . . and perfect for a Summer Solstice entry, though these jewels were eyed on June 18th. Butterflies do not adhere to our calendar ways. I have counted nearly thirty filling the gardens each day for the last couple of days, only today, looking out from where I write to the swath of lace-like blossoms, it is quiet.

This Summer Azure is as lovely as its name . . . with wings sometimes spreading into a dreamy blue. Its wing span is only 3/4 - 1 1/4".  They are so small and from a distance seem so blah or simple white that I may have seen them for many years without really taking notice. I did capture one last year in late summer but missed the flurry . . . if there was one . . . over the blankets of blooming goutweed . . .  as there is this spring . . . now summer.

These beauties only live for a few days with new butterflies emerging daily varying from two separate broods. Spring and Summer Azures are seen flying in plentiful numbers from April into May and then within June and July. They may be sighted flying into September in lesser numbers. I hope that many can survive their two or three days here, but I fear for them with all the birds, who have little nestlings and fledglings to feed.

These tiny fresh butterflies flit about in erratic and quick gestures (evolved that way to evade the birds no doubt) above and through the plants and shrubberies until they settle down to feed in earnest, upon, of all things, bishops weed. There amongst hundreds of every sort of bee, they hold their own dipping into teeny florets and allowing this butterfly lover and photographer a series of portraits.

The earth is tilting towards our longest day and the Summer Azure above is about to fall off the flower.

Luckily for both the Summer Azure and this onlooker, the butterfly maintains its balance by opening breathtaking wings. We both stay on course . . . my clicking away while the butterfly continues to sip the nectar of the plant I so detest, though I confess to not minding it quite so much this day. Not one flower will be allowed to develop seeds, however.

One is left on its own for awhile. 

The two Summer Azures soon reunite and do not notice my intrusion. Note the lovely fringe along the edges of the wings . . . how perfect it is. These are such delicately created creatures.

Courting between male and female Spring and Summer Azures begins usually in the afternoon and may continue into the twilight hours. Though I have noted earlier wooing and pursuits too. Having such a brief time to be a butterfly a female will lay eggs on the same day she emerges.

Female Spring and Summer Azure butterflies fasten one egg at a time onto flower buds of many trees, shrubs and plants, including: cherry, oak, viburnum, honeysuckle, lupine, clover and more. I gladly offer flowers to their creation but then the birds have other needs for the hairy "slug-shaped" larva in colors of white, beige, pink and green with stripes down their sides. 

Still, many caterpillars do survive the birds rigorous gleanings and form a symbiotic relationship with ants who 'milk' the mature caterpillars "seventh abdominal segment" for sweet honeydew nectar. Ants can be a mighty force against possible predation. Many of the chrysalises that overwinter here . . . hidden beneath litter on the ground or within tiny crevices . . .  sleep throughout the cold months and then, with springs return, emerge as butterflies adding beauty and nourishment to our gardens and imaginations.

A different form of Spring or Summer Azure captured June 20th in the lower garden. 

Again, a favored nectar source is the invasive goutweed. 

Sunlight coming through this Azure's wings reveals a darker version. 

As if dark clouds are floating in the blue sky . . . somewhat threatening . . . as the bird slashes along the edge of the upper wing. 

The wings of each Spring and Summer Azure butterfly are uniquely sketched as are the days of our lives. The lines that join us and divide us will hopefully come together to preserve the treasures that make up our world and our very existence on it.

The earth wobbles and tilts in a more precarious mode these days. The signs are all there but leaders of the world and those that control them do not heed the warnings. On this Summer Solstice Day I long for a saner world that might look more to the wonders all around us and one where its citizens might raise their voices and dollars to demand a change towards clean energy, humane and sane practices in agriculture and all the other steps necessary to make our earth safer for all life. I too long for a world of peace so that all may have the rights to the simple pleasures and wonderment of the natural world.

Lastly, I add another blue that at first might fool the observer into thinking it to be an Azure too. Yesterday, while walking in the north field where most of our resident Azures never fly, I found one solitary Eastern Tailed-Blue basking in the warm rays of the sun. Can you see the difference?

A Happy Summer Solstice to Everyone.