Peripatetic philomaths…focusing on what's really important, eating ethically and cleanly, fermenting, foraging/wildcrafting, practicing herbalism, and being responsible stewards of our land. Sharing our photos, musings, and learnings. Still seeking our tribe.
As the weather’s grown cooler here, I wonder how long the butterflies and bees will be around. Few flowers still remain, mostly what people would consider to be “weeds”, like thistle and a low-growing bush with miniscule white flowers. Pesky to some, these are important food sources for pollinators.
What will the world be like
When there are no more bees, trees, or frogs?
When scorched earth is our reality
And we breathe in choking smog?
We continue to generate scads of plastic waste
Build mansions of questionable taste
Kill off species at a unimaginable pace –
Are we proud we’ve trashed this place?
What awaits our children now?
Are clear blue skies and lakes unicorns?
Are we considering the future for mankind
As even more of us are born?
I asked you to recycle your plastic
And put your cardboard in the nearby bin
You laughed at me for having asked it,
And I knew, sadly, that I would not win.
There just aren’t enough who care
Plenty who talk the talk but won’t walk the walk
And plenty who are aware
And deluding themselves about this epoch:
Glaciers melting, record heat,
Dirty air, algal blooms, CAFO meat,
Tech “reality,”, rainforest burning…
But the world keeps turning.
For those who refuse to accept
What’s in front of their faces
Soon, differences won’t matter,
Like political affiliations, religions, races…
We’ll be struggling to survive
On the world we’ve taken for granted
And abused, neglected, and plundered
And we’ll reap the terrible harvest we’ve planted –
Because not enough of us care, you see,
About anything other than “me”,
Even though the world must operate as “we”…
And so much depends on the flight of the bee.
An arborist once told us that the big Silver Maple (that I like to think of as the guardian of this property) could be a hundred plus years old. How the world has changed in those years, including the land surrounding the stately tree…but the tree has many more years to live, so what seems like a long lifetime in human years may just be middle age for the tree. With a life expectancy of, say, 200 years, human perspective would surely be altered.
My caterpillar friend has completed its metamorphosis and emerged in what I know must be an amazing new form. Unfortunately, I didn’t see when it actually departed the confines of its chrysalis. I suppose that, generally speaking, the likelihood of witnessing that event is low…but I had still hoped.
Instead of marinating in my disappointment, I choose to be glad that the winged creature was able to successfully make that incredible change and leave, to begin life anew. I’ve seen some lovely butterflies that could be that elusive changeling. What do you think?
I’ve been trying for some time now to photograph the Monarchs that flit about the pastures. They always seem to foil my hasty photographic attempts by flying off as soon as I almost have the shot lined up on my phone – and they won’t let me get very close, adding challenge to an already difficult endeavor. Today, though, this one let me get close enough for this photo. Maybe it was under the spell of the red clover nectar it was sampling…but regardless of the reason, I seized the opportunity, gladly. It’s butterfly season here: all sizes, shapes, and colors mingle in the pastures. And each one is welcome.