Fluttering: The Sequel

This has been truly a banner year for butterflies in our garden. On any given day last month, we could look out our kitchen window to see a dozen or more butterflies fluttering in the Turk's cap, butterfly weed, and milkweed.

Long-time crumbles will know that butterflies are special to me. The Lord has often used their beauty, presence, delicate diversity, and metamorphosis to encourage me. If I look at my circumstances and those of my loved ones over the last 6 months, there is plenty of reason for discouragement.  Many beloved activities are physically unattainable for me right now, but thankfully the Lord brings new butterflies to visit on the most downcast days. They remind me to look to the Lord and His work and to persist in praising and thanking Him in the midst of the challenges.

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal. (2 Corinthians 4:16-18 ESV)

The gulf frittilaries were the first to arrive en masse, back in August and September when the lantana still bloomed in the back garden.

Our state butterfly, the monarch, has come in droves but is tapering off now as the majority have migrated farther south.

We even had more than a dozen monarch caterpillars, but none survived even to chrysalis stage. They have many natural enemies. Perhaps next year we'll bring one or two inside to shelter and observe.

We relished the sight of our first giant swallowtail, who very graciously lingered for a few dozen photos.

The dainty queens mingle with the monarchs, but they are smaller, with more polka-dots.

Even smaller, the grey hairstreaks brightened up all the orange and black.

Ventral wing

Dorsal wing

The pipevine swallowtails were pretty hyperactive, but one finally consented to still in the Turk's cap and on the blackberry bush to smile prettily for the camera.

Only last week we learned to distinguish between the American lady

and the painted lady.

(If you don't believe those are two different kinds of butterflies, this side-by-side comparison of American ladies and painted ladies showed me the error of my ways.)

Almost too small to notice, two kinds of skippers hide among the bees and blooms (no Gilligans, though):

Peck's skipper (I think)

Checkered skipper (I think)

Finally, we've seen at least one orange sulphur and a tiny crescent butterfly, I believe a pearl crescent.

How glorious, gracious, and kind of our Creator to give us such beauty and variety of these beautiful insects. They fulfill the important purpose of assisting the bees in pollination so that the plants we and our planet need can grow and reproduce. He could have made them plain and monotone, but he made more kinds than I've ever seen and painted even the tiniest ones with intricate and colorful patterns. He could have given us eyes only able to see in shapes and shades of grey, but He gave us vision for color and detail as well. Everywhere His creation, even in this groaning, fallen form, testifies to His goodness and majesty.

Let us praise Him for butterflies and blooms.

Jack O'Lantern {Reprise}

When adversity carves you open,
Empties out the flesh and fruitfulness
Of life before the knife;
Gouges gaping, jagged wounds
Too severe to scar--

That emptiness carves room for grace
And otherworldly light
To shine salvation into the wounds
Of this dim and frightful night.

Life beyond the knife
Is not extinguished
But aflame
With glory.


For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.

2 Corinthians 4:6-7, NIV1984

originally shared here in 2012

Denali National Park {Lone Star to Last Frontier, 2015}

For the backstory, please see the post, "Courage, Dear Heart!" This post includes many photos (sorry, not sorry), so e-mail readers may prefer to view the Web version of Denali National Park.

Many are the plans in the mind of a man,

but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand.

Proverbs 19:21, ESV

My mom, loaded down with her Bible study bag

The guys on their morning hike

Our last excursion of the Alaskan adventure was a guided nature tour on a repurposed schoolbus up into the mountains of Denali National Park to see the local wildlife. We had reserved spots on the 4-hour tour, thinking that by the end of the trip that would be all the time on a schoolbus we could manage. The day before the excursion, however, we learned that our intended tour was canceled due to lack of participants. The cruise line offered to upgrade us to the 8-hour tour instead at no charge.

Eight hours on a schoolbus? We discussed it but felt the Lord had rearranged our plans for a reason, so he would give us (and our backs) the stamina for the long drive. Lest you think I exaggerate the character of our transportation, this was our bus:

We had to lower the top windows to get clear shots of anything.

Even if the wildlife had been camera-shy that day, we Texans were pretty excited about snow in September, especially when the temperature was still near 100F back home.

The first animals we saw were a pair of moose. Unfortunately, they were moving so quickly we only had one chance at a photo, and the camera couldn't see the moose in the forest for the trees. (He's the brown blur in the center of the frame. Really, he is.)

The terrain and plants changed, and we stopped for our first break, but the moose were all we had seen. If we had received the tour we had reserved, this would have been the point where we turned around and drove back the way we had come.

Instead, we ascended farther into the mountains and soon met the Alaskan state bird, the willow ptarmigan (or alpine chicken).

The snow fell harder, but our driver spotted something large at the top of a hill:

A grizzly bear.

Our guide said it was foraging for the last remaining wild blueberries in these scrubby bushes before it turned in for its long winter's nap. It was near enough for us to tell it was a large bear, but not near enough for a good photo through the snow.

The next subjects were more cooperative: a whole flock of Dall sheep, named for the scientist who discovered them. These are all ewes and lambs. Even the females of this species have horns.

Our second rest stop, at around the 3-hour mark, proved to be as far up the mountain as the bus could safely go, due to the snow and icy roads farther up.

On the way back, we spotted our friend the grizzly again, and this time he was a little closer:

Around the time I handed my camera (and 300mm lens) back to Amore and slid the upper half of my body back through the bus window into the cabin, I remembered the driver's earlier speech about keeping all arms and legs inside the vehicle because wild animals are, well, wild. If you know me well, you will know I must have been really excited about grizzly photos to completely forget a safety rule.

Then we saw some male Dall sheep, sharpening their curlicue horns:

Then we saw yet another grizzly! This one was briefly stopped in the road in front of the bus. The driver said we might get some really good shots of it if we were all quiet and didn't move quickly so as to shake the bus. As it turns out, grown-ups aren't any better and keeping still and quiet when excited than a classroom of schoolchildren are.

As a consolation prize, we watched the bear cross the river.

The driver told us the pronounced shoulder ridge, clearly visible here, is specific to grizzly bears. 

The remainder of the drive was quiet but still lovely in the dimming light. As we walked from the main lodge back to our rooms, it dawned on me that the most interesting wildlife we saw that day appeared on the part of the trip we hadn't planned to take.

Sometimes when the Lord asks us to do something we fear may be too hard for us, it just feels hard and we have to trust His Word and character that it will be worth it later on. Sometimes, though, He asks us to do more than we think we can because He wants to give us something better--right then--than what we had wanted for ourselves. I don't know about you, but those occasional immediate, visible rewards encourage me in the waiting and trusting Him for the long-term, invisible rewards.

O for grace to trust Him more!