CAN YOU SPOT THE COMMA?

It is mid-October, but there are still butterfly species nectaring about at Prairie Pond Woods, and a few individuals that have come back to the deck flowers for the past few days...one Red-spotted Purple, three Great Spangled Fritillaries, and two Eastern Commas.  They're not looking so good...a bit haggered...so I'm guessing I won't see them at all by the weekend.  And every afternoon between 4:00-5:00 a very beautiful moth flies, quite spastically, over the deck. Too spastically so far for me to get a good photo.  Maybe tomorrow.

By now you've probably seen the Eastern Comma in the photo.  

But can you see why it is called a Comma?

 

In the lower portion of it's ventral wing is a small, silver "comma."

Its cousin, the Question Mark, looks similar but has a dot at the bottom of the comma making it look like one. Two species easy enough to identify!

I'm always amazed at how these seemingly delicate creatures can hang on through cold nights and frosty mornings...but they do.  And it is a great thing when folks plant late-blooming flowers, such as asters and golden rods in their gardens to help these late-blooming Lepidoptera.

So, what's flyin' around outside your place?

GOLDENROD

On roadsides,

in fall fields,
in rumpy branches,
saffron and orange and pale gold,

in little towers,
soft as mash,
sneeze-bringers and seed-bearers,
full of bees and yellow beads and perfect flowerets

and orange butterflies.
I don't suppose
much notice comes of it, except for honey,
and how it heartens the heart with its

blank blaze.
I don't suppose anything loves it except, perhaps,
the rocky voids
filled by its dumb dazzle.

For myself,
I was just passing by, when the wind flared
and the blossoms rustled,
and the glittering pandemonium

leaned on me.
I was just minding my own business
when I found myself on their straw hillsides,
citron and butter-colored,

and was happy, and why not?
Are not the difficult labors of our lives
full of dark hours?
And what has consciousness come to anyway, so far,

that is better than these light-filled bodies?
All day
on their airy backbones
they toss in the wind,

they bend as though it was natural and godly to bend,
they rise in a stiff sweetness,
in the pure peace of giving
one's gold away.


~ Mary Oliver

POEMS FOR AN AUTUMN DAY

Autumn Day
Rainer Maria Rilke

Lord, it is time. The summer was too long.
Lay now thy shadow over the sundials,
and on the meadows let the winds blow strong.

Bid the last fruit to ripen on the vine;
allow them still two friendly southern days
to bring them to perfection and to force
the final sweetness in the heavy wine.

Who has no house now will not build him one.
Who is alone now will be long alone,
will waken, read, and write long letters
and through the barren pathways up and down
restlessly wander when dead leaves are blown.

Wild Geese
Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.