A Why? Butterfly. Seen in April on the slope of Mt. Hermon, Israel. You’re likely to give this Levantine Marbled White the two second look that most white butterflies complain of.
Look again There’s something different here. Examine those hindwings. See them?
Those two “eyes?” Our white butterflies don’t boast “eyes.” If it’s not a white butterfly, like our Cabbage white . . . what group of butterflies does it belong to?
Levantine Marbleds are Satyrs. Hmm.
Are there any white U.S.A. Satyr butterflies?
The carnage just miles away in Syria prevented me from going to the peak of Mt. Hermon. Wanting to find and photograph the rare butterflies of the mountain, I settled on the meadows surrounding Neve Ativ. This tiny town is on the slope of Mt. Hermon. Neve Ativ looks like what I think a little Swiss village would look like.
Blues and coppers were flying, low as they do, in those flower covered meadows. An occasional fritillary butterfly showed, but they never landed for more than 2.1 seconds. Mid-way through that morning (photographing butterflies in Israel, even as we are here in April ’17, is near humanly impossible in the afternoon heat as it is a very arid country).
When I spotted this mated pair of Lycaena thersamon omphale, if you were there with me, you’d surely tell me that I had a face lit up, happy-look as a puppy with . . .
I chose to share this now, for it reminded me of how readily available beauty, peace and G-d’s work is for those tens of millions of you who work day in and day out. Me, I started working after school at age 13. When I retired I had worked for decades and decades. I am gifted in that I do still smell the roses, and hike to find eye fulls like this = sheer, unadulterated Beauty. Earnest, innocent and 0% politicized.
It seems that with every generation, we lose craftspeople, whether they be jewelers, welders, goldsmiths, harriers, writers, composers, violinists or ballet dancers.
Me? I have little contact with such gifted artists and creative folks. What I do value is my time, real-time in the field, amidst great beauty. Just weeks ago, in the Rio Grande Valley of Texas, I stood there, admiring an Erato Heliconian, a Malachite, a Julia Heliconian and a Red-Rimmed butterfly and then a Mexican Bluewing, and a Common Mestra. They are butterflies all of extraordinary beauty.
Yes, the tailors who sewed decades ago are gone, the painters of the Hudson River School and the great Flemish painters and Rembrandt are gone, the men who built the Chrysler building in NYNY are gone, and the jewelers of bygone Tiffany? Gone. Yet I am thankful, for as I shot away at this pair of HolyLand Copper butterflies in Neve Aviv, Israel, I knew that H-s finest works continues on, as it will.