Butterfly – Feminism and Religion

Monarch Saga Continues in to 2026 by Sara Wright

This summer marks the first year I have not had butterflies in my wildflower garden in August, a very troubling development. June and half of July were good months with some monarchs, many swallowtails and a multitude of fritillaries flying through the field. The latter two were as prevalent in my garden as last year, although painted ladies, pearly eyes, and admirals were scarce. No monarchs around the house this year. On July 15 I saw two up by the corner perching on the milkweed who were probably the same ones I saw just above me on the circle later that day. On July 17th out of state neighbors sprayed their property with pesticides. The wind was fierce. The monarchs disappeared. I have not seen a monarch or any other butterfly since (except one fritillary that appeared briefly last week).

Because I think the same monarchs return to the sparce milkweed patch on the corner before they come here, I immediately looked for eggs*. I kept looking day after day for the rest of the month, noting the bizarre leaf distortion on this small clump of milkweed that I had not seen anywhere else. Due to pesticidal drift from a few feet away? On August 6th I was walking by the distorted milkweed and spied two monarch caterpillars. Oh no!

She Changes Everything She Touches: A Reflection on Love and Loss, part 2 by Sara Wright

part 1 was posted last week, you can read it here.

How much I like clipping by hand. Surprised by this realization I feel satisfaction rising. I was bored by this task as a child. I am delighted to meet a bevy of fat nubbly toads who appear out of the overgrown ground covers and in between sun warmed stones. Both child and ‘old woman’ feel happy that none will get mowed down by a polluting gas guzzling machine. The Peace of this Land that we belong to steals over us. Less is more. I’ll tackle the patch of bracken later, or maybe not until tomorrow. In this weather accomplishing one simple chore a day is enough.

Well not quite. I am creating a serpentine path of fieldstone that stretches from my front door to meet the path that climbs the hill. My original intention was to have someone ‘more professional’ do the work, but they were too busy so here I am, an almost eighty-one-year-old woman, creating a mosaic out of cracked stone! ‘I am the artist’ I say, as I carry a few more irregular rocks down from the huge pile sitting in front of the garage eyeing the mosaic for the perfect fit. Illumination strikes when wind hits the stones. Blowing seeds, withered crabapple bits, pine needles and leaves into the cracks I see what is happening. Small plants like violets, creeping charlie, ground ivy, and catmint will find niches in the soil that is being created before my eyes. Mosses will follow in the shade. Ah, Nature is going to help me craft a unique and imaginative fieldstone floor. Each time it rains the stones flatten out becoming more stable. That same feeling of satisfaction steals over me again. Vaguely I think that I may be doing something else besides laying stones in an artistic way and trusting that Nature will fill in the cracks, but I am not clear just what this might be. All I know is that it doesn’t matter how long this project takes. Process has taken precedence. This much feels just right.

Three poems by Sara Wright

Spirits of the Forest

In Forest Presence

I listen,

leaves

and needles rustle

Voices

Hum inside

Hemlock bark

sounding

if only humans

would listen

Incantations

erupt beneath

the forest floor

wrapped

in a tapestry of threads

millions of miles

of white

cottony intentions

interevntions?

made manifest

by Raven and

Owl

Butterfly Wounding by Sara Wright

Bittersweet orange

invokes wounding

past torment endured

at the hands of those

who would harm.

Air is lightened,

cleansed by absence

Trees rejoice

Slaughter shifts perspective

Despair presses Diamond.

Fritillary seeks

her flower

lover in waiting

Tongue seeking.

Butterfly – Soul Transformation by Judith Shaw

I offer this look at the life and stories of Butterfly as a healing salve for our very troubled world. In this time of great, world-wide transformation, as we grapple with the many, many racial, social, economic and environmental injustices currently tearing the fabric of society apart, may the lessons that Butterfly brings help us on our path to love.