Thirteen Shades of Orange!


One of the G.F. (Gulf Fritillary) cats (caterpillars) is now a chrysalis. It is Friday, May 22, 2015. While counting the rest of the cats, I find a second chrysalis with no idea when it formed. It seems to have appeared out of the magical unseen. There are a total of nine C & C (cats and chrysalides) I’m keeping track of with a mark on the calendar on when to expect a butterfly to emerge in great hope I can see the miracle.


On Saturday, May 23, 2015, I find another G.F. in the head down ‘J’ position in early morning. My photo shows another cat in the background. By late morning the ‘J’ cat is almost a complete chrysalis. I can still see his caterpillariness as he moves and twists. These cats have done a number on the passion vine. I will need to take cuttings and start more plants as this population boom continues.


I read about using a large pickle jar as a temporary incubator so I can see the butterfly emerge without having to move leaves and stand on my head. On second thought, I would prefer a net enclosure like the ones that display the cats and chrysalides and butterflies so beautifully at The Butterfly Estates. Their setup is topnotch and they explain information in a way that encourages everyone who visits to want to try creating a habitat at home. I check a few stores and find exactly what I’m looking for! I would have preferred white, but it’s navy blue, as close to perfect as I can get.

I really like how the butterfly cage has a zippered top and zippered side which allow me to trim a branch with a cat, or use a small potted host plant with a cat, put both in the net enclosure until he forms his chrysalis. I can release the butterfly within a few hours of emerging and have the pleasure to watch him fly. It’s sort of selfish, but since they don’t seem to be on my schedule and I’m not on theirs, we compromise.

A small plastic puddling dish with rocks and sand is now buried near the nectar plants. Eventually I’d like to get something more like a birdbath dish to give the flying wanderers a place to rest their weary wings and puddle together. It would be fun to see their antics.

Sunday, May 24, 2015, One of the cats didn’t make it. I notice a very thick silk attachment and just the molted ‘skin’ of the cat. I did not see him there before now. The evidence is down low in the plant near the soil. Usually they don’t get that close to the soil. The fourth G.F. is in J mode. I account for all five cats and the other three chrysalides, not counting the deceased one. The cats are eating ravenously and from their size, about two inches long, will most likely form their chrysalides tomorrow. As I look over the damage to the poor passion vine, I discover four new cats! Thirteen total, and I’m certain I have not found them all.

Baby 2

Copyright Patricia Westbrook All Rights Reserved


The Exact Right Place and Time


I wake up at 4:30 a.m. Saturday morning, too early to see without artificial light. I write and read until a little after sunrise and step outside to find two emerged Zebra Longwings! I quickly grab my lawn chair and water and settle in to take photos and videos, and embrace the moment. With one eye on the third chrysalis Continue reading

Butterflies and Caterpillars Oh My!

Gulf Fritillary

The late start out the door is irritating, since I planned to get up with the sun, sip coffee in my lawn chair while watching the first butterfly in my new butterfly garden, the Gulf Fritillary, emerge. Yesterday the chrysalis twisted into a tight curl and I wondered: was he struggling or impatient? I mentioned to my friends over last night’s late dinner that today might be the day. Today marks eight days since the chrysalis formed.
Of course, the first thing I find after stepping outside is the passion vine. I peer deeply into where the Gulf Fritillary chrysalis is hidden. Continue reading

Butterfly Eggs!


Fascination pulls me into a vortex of curiosity. I wonder why I never noticed butterfly eggs, caterpillars, or chrysalides before now. Perhaps we are not supposed to learn everything about everything in one lifetime. It leaves room for excitement.

The Butterfly Estates mesmerize me during my visit on April 25, 2015. The women I meet there demonstrate an intense devotion to raising and releasing butterflies humanely and organically. I feel the passion in their eyes and tune into the excitement in their voices as they explain and show me the life stages of a multitude of colorful dainties. They accomplish their focused mission by nurturing the butterflies all the way through to release day each week. They invite the community to play a part for a brighter today and more beautiful tomorrow with butterflies playing a vital role. I am instantly hooked.

The greenhouse is a calm haven in the middle of the city. Never have I seen so many butterflies in one place. Soothing music plays in the background and the light rumble of a nearby waterfalls echoes rhythmically from the koi pond nearby. It causes me to slow down and absorb the scenery. The pond supports four turtles, small koi, and a Butterfly Koi. Very fitting.

I borrow an identification chart to match up the real thing to the name and sketch. I am familiar with the black and white striped Zebra Longwing, the state butterfly of Florida, and the Monarch’s fame for migrating the longest distance of any butterfly. The Monarch’s near endangered situation, due to lack of habitat and use of pesticides by humans, causes much concern among butterfly enthusiasts.

By the time I am nearly done with my stroll through the greenhouse, I have identified several different butterflies. My short list includes Malachite, White Peacock, Great Southern White, and Orange Barred Sulphur, along with those mentioned elsewhere in this post.

I hear myself ask about starting a butterfly garden at home. I already have swamp milkweed seeds sprouted and growing specifically for Monarchs. Adding more to this endeavor is a stretch for me, since I have not have all that much luck with plants in the past. I’ve had good luck with orchids and Christmas cactus on my lanai.

As I drive away, tucked safely in the back of my car are four plant (two host plants and two nectar plants) to get me started. I learn from one of the employees who kindly carries two of the plants to my car that a bonus has come with my passion vine:  butterfly eggs! Three butterflies are known to lay their eggs on the passion vine: Zebra Longwing, Gulf Fritillary, and Julia Heliconian.


Giddiness rushes through my bloodstream. I wonder which one will appear in a few short weeks. The employee does not share further details and I do not ask. We both want it to be a surprise.

After placing the plants in a protected spot where they get daily sun right out the front door, I count the eggs. Ten tiny yellow spots are huddled on two tender leaves at the tip of the plant. By the next day I become concerned that a predator might eat them so I cover them with a net bag and tie it to the lattice supporting the passion vine. Wrong move!

By the following afternoon, the eggs have hatched into caterpillars and appear to be struggling. I carefully untie the bag and remove it, then strategically place the tiny creatures on various young leaves around the plant so they won’t have to compete for food. Wrong move! To my dismay, a few of them fall off my finger. I feel horribly sad! All but one looks like they will die soon. What have I done?

If I want the rest to survive, I must rethink my selfish need for involvement. I must become an observer and photographer only. Oh, and a plant waterer. Other than that, hands off!

On May Day I count two caterpillars. No, three caterpillars. By the following morning I count four, then five. Five caterpillars! I hope there are both males and females since I don’t see many butterflies in my neighborhood. The little ones happily munch on tender leaves and then rest. I feel relief and water the plants, sprinkling a little on the leaves. The caterpillars seem to like it.

By May 4 the large caterpillar has turned darker than the rest. Two days later the big guy hides deep in the plant along a thick stem and had stopped eating. It takes a while before I find him. By the next day he has morphed into a chrysalis. I verify through photos taken with my cell phone, as I stand nearly on my head, blood rushing to my face, pushing leaves carefully aside with my fingers, that he must be a Gulf Fritillary! Will I be so lucky as to see him emerge from his chrysalis? It will take one to two weeks.

A few days later three of the other four have become chrysalides, Zebra Longwing for sure. The bottom of their chrysalis looks like two rabbit ears. Unmistakable. I read that they fly more methodically and slowly. Attitude. They know how to stop and drink the nectar. Latitude. They are a lovely butterfly and tend to live longer than the rest, four to six months on average, so I hope to enjoy their company for some time after they emerge. With any luck, there will be two males and two females. Perhaps the females will return to lay eggs on the passion vine. I hope so.

I look closely at the chrysalides and noticed brilliant gold specs in strategic places on the chrysalides. The detail is fascinating even from my upside down viewpoint. On May 8, the last caterpillar is in position for turning into a chrysalis. They all follow the same scenario: eat a large meal, find the way to a (partially) hidden place underneath a leaf and attach their hind end with silk to the leaf tip, leaf center, or stem during the daylight. They rest in a letter J position, head down and squirm and wiggle. By the next morning their chrysalis is mostly, but not fully formed. It takes another day or so to harden into a protective shell. The magic continues.

I look forward to the next few days for a well-timed glimpse of a chrysalis breaking open and a brand new butterfly emerging into the world.   

Never Thought I’d Sprain My Tooth!


It’s been one week and one day since I ate celery and peanut butter, two of my favorite foods to eat together. It was a Thursday afternoon, about 4:20 p.m. As I munched on my treat, a grinding ‘crunch’ and immediate pain shot through my bottom front tooth down to the root. My tooth was loose! It had physically moved forward in my mouth. I could see it in the mirror and feel it with my tongue.

I immediately called the dentist who kindly made time to see me. I would be the last patient of his workweek. X-rays revealed the root and tooth had no breaks (thank goodness).

I could not bite without hitting the lower tooth with the top tooth, which shot pain into the root with each bite. The dentist decided the best route (no pun intended) to take would be to grind the top and front of the bottom tooth (much to my dismay). I hated having any part of my teeth removed. I knew I needed to chew, though.

The pain felt like how I imagine it would feel to be punched in the mouth with a fist. It hurt for several days. After a couple of days, I realized the top tooth had mashed into the bottom tooth, edge to edge. A rough edge on the top tooth gave away the culprit.

I still cannot bite with my front teeth, so must use the side of my mouth to accept small bites of mostly easy to chew foods. The dentist said to wait and see, and it may take weeks or months before I can chew normally again.

Heck, I have never heard of spraining a tooth. Now I know what it is, how it feels, and what to do to prevent it…don’t eat anything. Since that’s not possible, my best advice is to chew softly and gently. Not that I expect anyone to pay attention, but if you sprain your tooth, don’t say I didn’t warn you!

Saving the Beauty


Have you heard about J. N. “Ding” Darling National Wildlife Refuge? It’s on Sanibel Island in southwest Florida. It includes over 6,000 acres of mangrove estuaries, interior wetlands, and wooded areas, which provide food and shelter to migratory and resident birds, along with fish and animals. This Refuge is one of over 500 in the United States. offers more information about the refuge.

J. N. “Ding” Darling developed a natural ability to influence people, through his fame in editorial cartooning along with his oratory skills, and used these tools to encourage people to take action in conservation. He initiated the Federal Duck Stamp program. explains his story in more detail.

When nature beckons I clearly hear the call, immersing myself at the Refuge for a several hours. It a gift to witness, sometimes very close up, the multitude of huge white pelicans, wood storks, pretty-in-pink spoonbills, wide varieties and sizes of herons, ibis, and beautifully plumed egrets. The list of wildlife spotting goes on.

Other smaller shorebirds join in the mix, but since I’m not familiar enough with their nuances yet, I focus on the bigger birds. One little white heron draws my attention since I have never seen one like it before. Other birders watching nearby identify it as a juvenile little blue heron. The bird’s body, entirely white with green legs, looks so small compared to the huge great egret standing nearby.

Photographers enjoy going to “Ding” to take photos with their huge cameras and giant lenses, some fixed on tripods and some held somewhat steady by hand. Other birders use binoculars. Both items are on my wish list. I notice kayaks skimming by along the calm backwater areas. Their pilots witness the Refuge from an entirely different perspective.

After driving and walking along the paved road of the five-mile long Wildlife Drive, I peruse the exhibits inside the Education Center and watch some short movie clips. Artifacts still intact remind me of “Ding” and connect me more fully to his vision of conservation.

A wide choice of informational activities are available on a daily basis. I notice a program about butterflies is about to start. Curious, I step into the auditorium to discover a butterfly cage (a collapsible net laundry basket with a zippered closure at the top). Inside it are a variety of live butterflies, held fast by their little feet to the netting. I settle in to watch the presentation.

A fascinating talk given by local butterfly lovers opens my eyes to a challenge surrounding the Monarch: pest and weed control products. We all use them. Certainly there must be something more natural that won’t kill these beauties. I cannot imagine life without the Monarch and other butterflies (and bees, of course).

Monarch butterflies are at risk and are drastically dwindling. From their peak count, they have declined by about 90% in the last 20 years due to many factors including pesticide and herbicide use, genetically modified organisms (GMO crops), and development. More information can be found at .


There is a plant that may help bring the Monarch back from devastation: milkweed. This plant is the only plant where the Monarch lays eggs, one at a time, that hatch the caterpillar that eats the leaves and sheds its skin a few times as it’s growing, and forms the pupa or chrysalis during the last shedding that protects it while it magically morphs into the Monarch. It’s a fascinating process!

Pesticide-free milkweed seeds, offered at the presentation to those who ask, make their way easily into my open palm. I plant them with the loving intention of attracting Monarchs to lay their precious eggs and start the cycle of life in my own yard and neighborhood.


In the meantime, will you find some milkweed seeds of your own and plant them? Find a local butterfly enthusiast and you may be in luck! Think about how we can positively affect the Monarch’s chances for continued survival!

My bucket list includes seeing the Monarch migration in person, up close. I can see in my mind millions of orange and yellow stained-glass wings fluttering and flitting joyfully around me! How cool will it be to see the culmination of a simple action taken by everyone who reads this post? I can’t wait! Can you?

Not So Long Ago

Fifty years today marks Bloody Sunday, the peaceful march from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama on March 7, 1965, to ensure the constitutional voting rights for African Americans, who still were not allowed to vote in the South. This inequality hits me on a cellular level.

I listened as John Lewis told the story of Bloody Sunday on National Public Radio, on my way to work last week. John Lewis said he was raised to not ‘get in the way.’ He didn’t like the inequality he saw and experienced growing up. He decided the better path was to ‘get in the way.’ He led the march that day.

As several hundred brave men and women peacefully marched the six blocks from their church to the base of the Edmund Pettis Bridge, state troopers and local law enforcement blocked their way, by the order of Governor George Wallace. Billy clubs and tear gas stopped John Lewis and other marchers at the bridge. They returned to their church to regroup.

The marchers would not give in. They knew their rights. More people joined them in an attempted second wave two days later. Dr. Martin Luther King was a part of this symbolic march. He request and received court protection for the third march.

On March 21, 1965, over three thousand people began walking in Selma. By the time they reached Montgomery four days later they were 25,000 strong. Five months after that, President Lyndon Johnson signed the Voting Rights Act of 1965.

Some of the information for this post was found at:

It is up to all of us who remember that time to ensure true stories like this are passed on for future generations. Many people have sacrificed for the freedoms we enjoy, not the least of which are the marchers on Bloody Sunday in 1965, not so long ago. Civil rights are not automatic, though they should be. Civil rights are won in steps.

For You, My Dream Reader


Poetry is the reason I started this blog, specifically to write posts about the backstory to my poems. Since I began writing poetry several years ago, after a deep dive into a black hole, each written word formed a solid step upward that brought me closer to sunlight and air. I found abundant life everywhere!

Through that trip to hell and back, I have become convinced that anyone can choose to walk a different path. The only requirement is desire. My journey into poetry has transformed my way of thinking, from why experiences happen, to understanding that each of us has the capacity to create a positive outcome of our own deepest dreams and wishes.

We are infinite beings of energy who have within us the power to change the world in a great way. When you really think about it, we humans have created our current reality. Our own realities are as varied as our personalities.

In walking the path, intimately observing nature, slowing down, and noticing simple things, I have discovered a whole new wonderful world. It has been there all along. My own shadow seemed to be the only thing blocking the spectacular view.

When You Look Up is not only the title of my poetry book, but it is a way of life for me now. Look up toward the trees and sky. This one action has the capacity to open your heart and soul to the beauty that is all around us, every second of the day.

I choose to look up. Come walk with me awhile. Let’s notice miracles together.

I Can’t Believe It!


One month today since my last post! I could come up with many excuses, but nothing would suffice. You see, my post on January 1 was a quote from the last poem in my first published poetry book. I’m working on an audio book now, but how would I blog about that? Where to go next?

I thought about writing about my five-month ordeal with a kidney stone (I made excellent notes), or my recent ongoing adventure in a bathroom remodel. It is currently at a temporary standstill until my work schedule coincides with the contractor, which may be a few more weeks. These have nothing to do with poetry…yet.

Instead, let me go off track a little. Last Friday evening I attended a friend’s performance. He was one of the actors in a local Off Broadway show.  Some issues with sound and stage gave them all a challenge that night. I had my own challenge with dinner. Cutting a slightly overdone chicken patty with a plastic knife on a Styrofoam plate was not easy.

I’m no expert on Broadway plays, but the variety of music and costumes were really good, from Cats to Chicago, to South Pacific, and more. The most intriguing part was that most of the performers showed their age, literally, with some exceptions. Let me just say they all appeared to be at least my age (or older). It was kind of hard to tell, though, especially with the dancers.

They all did a bang-up job and some of them had absolutely wonderful singing voices. I felt bad when the microphones became cantankerous and uncooperative, and the curtain cords sagged almost to the floor, choosing not to close without human hands. The show had to go on, and so it did.

At one point, I was surprised when I felt like I a proud mother, as if watching my young child in his first play. My heart hurt for one of the gentlemen when he forgot his lines and had to start his song again. He might have missed a beat, but he didn’t quit. The audience pulled for him.

In some of the numbers, we could not even hear the singers over the music. Another little glitch following the theme of the evening. As an afterthought, perhaps that was on purpose…

The most memorable part of the evening for me was when some of the ‘Cats’ prowled around the tables, pawing and purring at the audience members, most of whom were of the over 60 crowd. I felt like I was in an alternate reality, bordering on a vivid dream.

At the end of the show, the woman who headed it up told the audience how their Thursday practice went without a glitch. She laughingly wondered out loud why we all decided to come on Friday instead, and paying for the opportunity, to boot.

I don’t know if I would have the guts to do what these actors did, but I sure admire their gumption. My thanks go out to each of them for sharing their talents and lives so joyfully.