Hairstreaks somehow escaped my notice until this year . . . or yesterday and today more like . . . when I discovered three different species in the south field. It is so peaceful to butterfly watch . . . I never think about all the things I might do to the garden . . . weeding and such . . . ‘weeds’ may be the very plant that keep these butterflies going. The songs of birds float along the breeze that softens and cools the air as I walk along the paths seeking out tiny butterflies.
“What would the world be, once bereft
Of wet and wildness? Let them be left,
O let them be left, wildness and wet;
Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet.”