Teasel Meet-Up

Silverspotted skipper butterflies photographed by Jeffrey Zablow at Raccoon Creek S.P., PA

We saw many Silver Spotted Skippers yesterday, as we went ‘shopping’ for perrenials at Nikki’s Dig and Design Nursery in rural Lizella, just east of Macon, Georgia. Nikki’s nursery featured thousands of perrenials, almost all nurtured and grown by her and her staff. Strong, healthy and robust plants that would do a fine job of bringing butterflies to your garden. I kept thinking yesterday, that YOU would find much that you are looking for, these last months, right there on Causey Road.

What’d we buy? Bronze Fennel. Turtlehead, Cardinal Flower, an Agasatache, Coneflowers, Blue Lobelia, Black and Blue Salvia and an Orchid (a houseplant). She had mature plants in the nursery beds that you would Love, and that would bring exquisite butterflies to you.

These 2 Silver-Spotted Skippers are where they want to be, perched on blooms (Teasel) that pump out tasty nectar, both compelled to fulfill their responsibility to produce a new, vital generation. They were at Raccoon Creek State Park in southwestern Pennsylvania. Living in Georgia now, I miss that state park, where I’d seen Goatweed Leafwing, Leonard’s Skipper, White-M Hairstreaks, Meadow Fritillaries, Compton’Tortoiseshell, Hickory and Banded Hairstreaks, Northern Pearly-Eye Butterflies and  . . . .


“From This Valley,” They Sing

Tiger swallowtail butterfly photographed by Jeff Zablow at Raccoon Creek State Park, PA

It’s plenty cold out. New Years Day came and went yesterday. Sitting here, exploring new blog postings, and I stop here, at this handsome male Tiger Swallowtail butterfly, met in Raccoon Creek State Park, in southwestern Pennsylvania (some 8 hours west from New York, NY).

If I may take the liberty of speaking for nearly all of you, I am thinking of Spring, of new green growth about, and butterflies. Lots of butterflies, here there and in Your garden.

What jumps to my mind? One of my favorites tunes:  “From this valley they say you’re going, we’re goin’ miss your bright eyes and sweet smile, so remember the Red River Valley, and the old folks that call it their home. Come and sit by my side if you love me, do not hasten to bid me adieu, but remember . . . ”

Back in brick, mortar, asphalt, concrete Brooklyn, that was what I was humming, when solitary as usual, I was exploring vacant ‘lots’ for butterflies and more.

Come March or so, hum River River Valley again, and if with friends, have not a care what they might think, me almost silently humming that unlikely tune, me a guy from the City.