April 23: I’m a little late writing about this gratitude moment, mostly because it was difficult to write about on the day of its occurrence. Gratitude can sometimes be bittersweet.
Three years ago my brother gifted me this blog so that I could write about a hobby that unbeknownest to me, was transforming my life — raising Monarch butterflies. In June of that year I wrote The Milkweed Factory, a post about growing Milkweed plants that was really, at its core, about inspiration and the sweetness of friendship. It was about a friend helping me to restore the balance of supply and demand in my butterfly nursery by growing and supplying me with Milkweed plants.
My nursery saw an increase in diseased caterpillars and butterflies that year. Many were also lost to the natural predators in my yard — spiders and lizards. Despite the new source of Milkweed, I got discouraged and retired from Monarch farming. This left my friend, MC as I called her in that post, with an abundance of Milkweed and a decision to make — what to do with all that Milkweed.
MC’s husband took up the torch. He became our new Milkweed and Monarch farmer. He was so much better at it than I. He lovingly cared for the food source — the Milkweed plants — hand washing them on occasion to remove aphids, producing healthy, lush, green plants. It was he who came up with the “caterpillar condo” idea for protecting caterpillars and chrysalises from predators and cold nights. The condo was a cardboard box that once contained a case of wine. Its size was easy to transport into the house at night and out into the sunshine at day and easily fit small potted Milkweed plants. The nursery soon became an activity for him to share with his grandchildren and other friends. He gave people Milkweed seeds, shared photos every time a new butterfly arrived, and released them into the world named after his friends. Yes, there was a butterfly named Lauran.
I am raising butterflies again, in honor of MC’s husband, because he is, sadly, the dear friend who recently passed away. My Milkweed supply is thin, but I am determined to follow the same path and grow new plants from seeds. MC has shared a few plants from her inventory to get me started and it’s been enough to attract a pregnant Monarch. MC is also continuing her husband’s legacy, nurturing the nursery in her yard. We’ve graduated to more advanced condo technology, experimenting with a netted butterfly habitat purchased from Amazon. And the two of us have become watchful parents waiting for the first butterfly. It’s touch and go, success only achieved when a new Monarch flies away on its own. The first two we lost to parasites. But finally, last Friday, success — a big beautiful new Monarch butterfly.
“What should we name it,” I texted MC.
“Don,” she replied. “He never named one for himself.”
It can take hours for a new butterfly to gain enough strength to fly away and in the meantime it crawls around and tries to fly in fits and starts often failing. I sat with the butterfly as long as I could, rescuing it from the dangers of my atrium as it tried to fly. But then I had to leave for an appointment and trust that it would be okay.
“I just got home and he’s gone,” I texted MC. “I told him before I left to go see you. Let me know if he shows up.”
“We saw him on our walk this afternoon,” she replied.
There’s a lot to be grateful for in this story and I am sometimes overwhelmed by the layers of inspiration and connection. This feeling, which I can only describe as love, is what life is and should be about. This tiny little life form is a thread that connects me to MC and her husband and to their family and their other friends, and to my other friends to whom I’ve shared the love of Monarchs, many of whom are now growing Milkweed and raising Monarchs. Butterflies are a connection to something larger than myself — the universe, Mother Nature, God — whatever you prefer to call that larger presence in your life. They are a reminder that while difficult and sometimes sad, life can also be rich with beauty and wonder. But really, what I was grateful for that afternoon, was the simple act of bringing a new butterfly into the world. Butterfly Don.
The caterpillar dies so the butterfly could be born. And, yet, the caterpillar lives in the butterfly and they are but one. So, when I die, it will be that I have transformed from the caterpillar of the earth to the butterfly of the universe. ~ John Harricharan
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