Happy Father’s Day to all on this sunny June day. I thought it fitting to start this post with a thank-you to my father, who recently sent me the butterfly book quoted in “Words From Others.” I observed in a recent post that I needed a butterfly field guide to identify the tiny skippers flitting about the catmint. He generously responded by popping his book in the mail as a gift. It is small and fits so well in my hands. It is, of course, just the right size to take into the field. I love it.
I appreciate that this book, published in 1951, talks about having learned more about butterflies during “the last generation.” That would be about 60+ years ago. The book’s introduction is evidence that our knowledge base constantly changes, and I love that there is always something new to learn. My dad also introduced me to Peterson’s field guides to birds, and to the field guide to wildflowers in that series. I spent many a sticky afternoon in the western Maryland woods, with a dixie cup filled with water and drooping wildflowers, the field guide opened, and a pad of paper filled with the names of the flowers as I identified them. (It was much more fun, and infinitely more interesting, than collecting kindling for our campsite.)
I used this field guide to butterflies in preparation for posting a Status for today. I will apologize in advance: my digital camera and I are not up to the task of photographing butterflies. They move too fast, and my camera is not (expensive) accurate enough to photograph small objects in clear detail. Forgive me. If I get a better photo of a Red Admiral, you will be among the first to see it!
Here is what is going on in the garden on this Father’s Day of 2011:

Because I knew how I would feel after a morning weeding, I started off a jug of sun tea on the porch.
I stepped off the front porch and looked at the activity in the lavender. It looked like morning rush hour in Grand Central, with bumblebees and butterflies landing on the blossoms and swinging down as the stems swayed. It was a kaleidoscope in motion and color. I don’t know who had the claim to greatest numbers: the bumblebees or the Cabbage White butterflies. Other varieties were in evidence, but these two visitors were present on every plant.

Apologies for the blurriness: this is a Red Admiral posing patiently. His antennae are topped with wee dots, inelegantly called "enlarged clubs." (I learned this from the field guide.)
I walked around to the front of our slope garden to see how the perennials were doing. The catmint and salvia blossoms are just about spent. The yarrow is in full bloom and the Shasta Daisies and Monarda are gearing up. Still no-shows: the Montauk daisies and Rudbeckia.
Continuing around the curve of the slope, I found the ridiculously tiny and delicate blossoms of the gargantuan borage plant (see “Photo of the Day). These tiny blossoms are said to taste like cucumber. Perhaps so — I can’t quite place the taste myself, but they do look lovely frozen in an ice cube and floated in a drink of sparkling water. A wisp of civilization on a hot summer’s day. Surely someone that is sipping such an elegant drink can’t be suffering from perspiration! This is the drink of people dressed in summer whites, sitting in the shade on a swept porch.
Into the vegetable garden:

In the back corner, the one welcomed sunflower volunteer towers over the Cosmos seedlings. I have plans for all but three of these seedlings, in other parts of the yard. The Favored Three will remain to challenge the sunflower for compliments.
Then to the bottom of the garden, to check on the threatening squash plants. The leaves are huge and have reached across their allotted space, over the straw-strewn path, and try each day to pull down the trellis reserved for the cucumber vines. I will be vigilant and keep them in their place. Already I have harvested a few of the yellow summer squashes, variety “Zephyr”:
Peeking underneath the leaves I found:

Large enough to have shed the blossom, but still small enough to stay upright on the stem. I have my eye on this one. Maybe tomorrow....
Also in the Ready-To-Eat Club:

And the peas, although I didn't plant nearly enough this year, and so the servings on each plate are laughably small. I have been enduring a lot of ridicule. In front of the staked plant are two Lamb's Quarter plants. The leaves are very nutritious, and delicious when stir-fried with garlic scapes and olive oil.
In the Don’t-Rush-Me Club:

Tiny carrot seedling, next to the "weed" Purslane. I pull and toss about half of the Purslane in my garden, and eat the rest. The leaves are loaded with sodium, and are delicious in stir-frys.

A double row of radishes, backed by a second sowing of beet seeds -- all doing well in front of the pole beans.

And Amish Paste tomatoes, bordered to the north by spinach. I haven't decided what to sow on the south side.
And so my morning in the garden ended, and I looked forward to a Sit on the shady front porch with a glass of sun tea.
I was not in summer whites. I was instead in my overalls with the muddy knees and my tired old sun hat. I may not have been elegant, but I was accomplished — something I value a whole lot more.
WORDS FROM OTHERS
“Why a New Butterfly Book? Recent years have seen the development of the Houghton Mifflin ‘Field Guides,’ led by Roger Tory Peterson’s famous Field Guides to eastern and western birds….It was therefore a welcome opportunity to add to this series a guide to butterflies, so as to make our modern knowledge of these insects readily available to all.
“During the last generation we have found out a great many new facts about our butterflies…”
— Alexander B. Klots, “A Field Guide to the Butterflies of North America, East of the Great Plains,” published by Houghton Mifflin, 1951
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