In Nature Archives - Page 9 of 11 - Sacred Healing of Grief Wounds

A Multitude of Butterflies

I gifted myself with a walk in one of my favorite places, Bok Tower Gardens, and the Universe gifted me with a multitude of butterflies.

Family responsibilities kept me busy until late morning to finally start my walk around noon. As I surveyed the skies to gauge the need for an umbrella, a sea of light blue was a foil for an occasional fluffy white cloud. I opted to carry a full bottle of water to replenish the sweat I knew would serve to keep me cool, leaving my umbrella behind.

Choosing a Different Path

Rather than walk one of the older paths that lead toward the tower or Pinewood Estate, I chose to walk through the Wild Garden, where landscape designers have worked with a local native plant nursery to recreate the ecological zones that occur in Central Florida—Piney Flatwoods, Oak Hammock, Wet Prairie, And Bog.

As I walked through the Piney Flatwoods, the first zone, I was surprised to see so many blooming plants during the heat of early August. There were maypop (Passiflora), goldenrod (Salidago), and sunflowers (Helianthus). I saw an occasional yellow cabbage butterfly, but none close enough or still enough to photograph.

My First Butterfly

Rather than eating the nectar of a flower, my first butterfly, a monarch, was resting on an oak leaf in the transition area between the Piney Flatwoods and the Oak Hammock. He sat there a long time, giving me ample opportunity to focus my phone and capture a shot of him. Starting off again, I paused to look up and was rewarded with the striking silhouette of a large air plant (Tillandsia) against the cumulus clouds and the blue sky.

The Wet Prairie

Taking a left off the main walk, I entered the Wet Prairie. There were many yellow butterfly weed plants (Asclepius) and something quite small on a blossom just beyond the capability of my phone camera. “Why hadn’t I brought my camera?” I mused. As I looked more closely, I realized that this little creature was similar to the small butterflies I saw during my time volunteering for the Butterfly Count in Colorado, a member of the brush foots family, known as a phaon crescent butterfly.

Taking a few photos from too far away, I was disappointed with the results and moved along the wide elevated wooden path. I noticed a few plants in the distance that looked very much like cannabis. “That can’t be right.”

Meanwhile, two of the little crescents had moved along the path with me, performing their aerial dance among the ground ferns. Once again, I couldn’t catch them in a photo. Then one seemed to read my mind and know my desire. He landed almost at my feet, just off the path on a contrasting green leaf, resting with his wings open for a perfect shot. I felt so lucky to have two photos of butterflies less than halfway through my walk.

Here at the edge of the Wet Prairie, just before the Bog, I came across the cannabis imposter in full bloom. The large red petals and large center spike with many stamens immediately identified it in the mallow family, which also includes hibiscus. There was no sign of the butterflies. Perhaps they had already visited the shimmering nectars before I arrived. Do you see a different type of insect sitting on the petal?

The Bog

Many different species of pitcher plants (Nepenthes) greeted me in the Bog. It isn’t bloom time, but their hues of lime green and burgundy are always a delight. There were small tickseed flowers (Coreopsis) sprinkled about and woody St. John’s wort (Hypericum) along the drier edges. Yellow seems to be the primary color for native flowers here in August.

The Butterfly Playground

I took a shortcut along a service path where native firebush (Hamelin) had been planted in abundance. These orange and yellow tubular flowers are a favorite of the official Florida butterfly, the zebra longwing (Heliconius). A placard explained their habit of roosting together in the camouflage of the trees from dusk until mid-morning, in an effort to thwart birds looking for a tasty meal.

The air was thick as thunder rolled in the near distance, but I was transfixed by a multitude of butterflies—zebra longwings and much larger swallowtails (Papilio) immersed in an aerial dance above the firebush growing along the edge of the manicured garden. After trying unsuccessfully to catch a photo, I changed to video. There were at least five longwings cavorting among the pine needles and I managed to capture two of them. The swallowtails were always just out of the range of my lens, seeming to giggle at my attempts to film them.

Central Florida in mid-summer usually spikes above 90 degrees F with the humidity at 70% or higher. Sweat was dripping down my back and along my face. As the sky threatened, growing darker every minute, I spotted a gulf fritillary (Agraulis) in the gloom, posed against the fresh pale yellow paint on a stuccoed wall. I captured my last shot of a butterfly and made a beeline for the café and a cool glass of fresh Florida’s Natural orange juice.

Later, as I navigated the twisting road past the citrus groves of Mountain Lake toward the exit, visions of a multitude of butterflies danced in my mind’s eye, fresh memories to savor and share.

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Dawn

When Fathers Day is Difficult

This post seems late since Father’s Day was earlier on Sunday. Rather, Father’s Day is difficult for me and I waited until after the holiday to write about it. How many holidays that expect certain emotions or actions are difficult for you? There’s a lot to pick from; Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Grandparent’s Day, Thanksgiving, and many more as this Internet List shows.

Memories are sweeter now, afterward

Looking back is easier today, the pain of loss and grief less pungent. Rather, sweet memories pour over me; the smell of his tobacco smoke, the tickle of his beard when he hugged me, the white salt stains on his work shirt from a day farming in the Florida summer heat, his ability to make me laugh. One prank he pulled especially comes to mind. Whenever I came home to Polk County, I liked to visit Bok Tower Gardens. Dad loved it too. My husband and I were talking as we left our car in the parking lot and Dad and Mom were ahead of us. My inner compass followed Dad without thinking.

When I looked up and realized we weren’t where I expected, I said, “Dad, where did you lead us?”

He grinned and lifted one eyebrow while winking the other eye. I knew I’d been duped again. We were a perfect match. He loved to play practical jokes and I never saw them coming.

Keeping his memory alive

Therefore, I return here, to Bok Tower Gardens often, choosing to volunteer both as an interpretive guide during the cooler months and an historic home docent all year. The many people I meet from all over the globe also remind me how much I’m like my father. He never knew a stranger.

May your memories be as sweet and dear to you as mine are to me.

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Closing a Chapter in My Life

The past 10 days, I’ve flown from Florida to Denver, driven 200 miles to my mother’s home with my sister and son, filtered through mountains of paperwork, pulling out the memories my mother saved, tossed 20 tall kitchen garbage bags, filled 30 boxes of things I couldn’t part with, carefully added a few pieces of furniture and ironwork my late father handcrafted, and now I’m driving a 16’ moving truck (with my 37-year-old son as wingman) the 2,400 miles back to the county where I was born and my husband, 90-year-old mother, and dogs are waiting for me.

Visiting a Sacred Place

The last thing we did before my sister flew back to Orlando was to walk up to the clearing among the rocks where Mom and I spread my father’s ashes in 2015. Just last year I could still see remnants in the dry desert soil. Now it seemed the landscape had changed the past twelve months, but I found my intersecting landmarks; a dead piñon pine and the outcropping where my husband and I exchanged our marriage vows exactly three years ago. A sagebrush had doubled in size just outside the small circle rimmed with rocks, placed with love and care. Each of us scooped up a few spoonfuls of sand to take home, placing them in emptied spice containers from the kitchen cabinet. I thought, “The remnants of the spice or herb will add an exotic hint when we open them later.”

Leaving is Hard for Everyone

Neighbors helped us load our belongings in the rented moving truck, handshakes and hugs completed the task. One special friend remained behind, visiting in the living room where she had listened to my Mother’s stories about Florida and the many backpacking and later RV trips she and my Dad had taken over the 65 years they were together. The friend and I held each other tight, soothing our sobs with mutual back rubs. We dried our tears on our sleeves and as I held the screen door, she said, “Text me every morning and night you are on the road. And give Sue a big hug from me!”

One Last Look

With the truck packed, we could have jumped in and started our journey. We were drawn to the high rock behind the house, dubbed La Garita Rock by the locals.

Larry said, “Let’s make one more trip up there, Mom.”

La Garita - Lookout Rock — La Garita – Lookout Rock

I found an old cane to steady myself as I carefully placed my hiking boots amongst the prickly pear and hedgehog cactus with their bright orange-red blossoms opening in the waning light. Working slowly toward the summit, we turned and surveyed the view. The northern section of the San Luis Valley laid out before us, the Great Sand Dunes clearly seen 60 miles to the east at the base of the snow-capped Sangre de Cristo Mountains. Just below us to the left stood the house my parents lived in during their retirement of 30 years. Moving toward the right I saw the historic church just outside the gate to my parent’s property, Capilla San Juan Bautista. The new red metal roof in sharp contrast to the white stucco on the thick adobe walls. Just beyond, the metal gate of the Carnero Creek Cemetery with scores of white crosses within.

The place will pass from the Anderson’s to the next family, but the memories and friends we’ve made will always live in our hearts. I know I’ll return soon…