Like a Tree Planted

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A little pine cone and I were out this evening catching a few pre-Sabbath rays of the brilliant winter sunlight. Evergreen trees have my never-ending admiration, bringing color into the midst of the browns and golds of last year's grasses sticking up out of the snow. Maybe I, maybe we all, can be like them.

"And he shall be like the tree planted by the rivers of waters, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper." Psalm 1:3

Butterfly Weekend

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I had never seen this butterfly before.  If it were mine to name it, I would call it the Orange Cream Butterfly.

It's a good thing these little flowers were prolific.  Everyone wanted some of their nectar for lunch.

If you're especially gentle, you can even touch a butterfly tail.

This is really a terrible video, but if you catch even a small fraction of a glimpse of all the butterflies that were out this weekend, the delight will be worth your few seconds.  We may have been having ridiculously hot weather, but we do get our rewards in butterflies.  

Salt

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Before living in south Texas, I had not encountered salt this way.  I wouldn't have even known to put it on my bucket list (if I had one).

Strong enough to hold up under my steps, white enough to sparkle in the sunlight, concentrated enough to stay in formation under the smooth water's surface.

Sprinkled over the dirt this way, you'd almost think it was a dusting of snow.   Except it's about 100 degrees out, which is the furthest thing from winter you can imagine.

Amazingly, some plants thrive in this salt land.

And amazingly, the salt land helps me thrive, too.

Happy Songs of the Birds

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It had been a while.  

Sure, we found ways to survive the heat-laden days of summer, getting fresh air in shorter stints closer to home.  We took delight in our garden, marveling day by day at its nourishment for body and soul.

We just hadn't gotten out.

You know, out where you can't hear city noises, out where you might not see another human except each other but even if you do they're out for the same reason you are, out where the birds don't have to compete with car alarms for the air waves.

This Sabbath, we simply did it.  Gathered up our water, bug spray, camera, and reading materials for the car ride, and got out there. 

Something somewhere was blooming full and free, spreading its sweet scent over the whole earth, it seemed.  I couldn't breathe in enough of it.

I couldn't capture any of the thousands of butterflies at a resting place, either, but that's a different thing altogether.

Those words we read in the car echoed through my mind in the quiet by the lake side as we walked its entire perimeter.  Words of hope, encouragement, admonition--stay strong in the Lord, don't worry, go straight to Him for direction, and He'll give it to you every time.  (Very loose paraphrasing, of course.)

By the end of the loop, I was more refreshed and ready for renewed service than I'd been in a long time.

"The things of nature are God's blessings, provided to give health to body, mind, and soul.  They are given to the well to keep them well, and to the sick to make them well....Nature is God's physician."  White, Ellen G.  Testimonies for the Church, vol. 7, p. 77.

"Seeing the flowers, plucking the ripe fruit, listening to the happy songs of the birds, has a peculiarly exhilarating effect on the nervous system.  From outdoor life, men, women, and children gain a desire to be pure an guileless."  Ibid, p. 86

Every Small Creature Pointing to our Immense Creator

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We've lived here more than a year now, but we're still seeing new and exciting things right outside our front door.  Or at least within a couple miles of it, which is usually how far our feet will take us on a given walk.

These little sand buildings often wander horizontally across the ground's surface, but they also ascend vertically, whether on the dirt walking path or sometimes even on a parking lot.  This one was three or four inches high.

I don't know what kind of bug makes them, but I'm always careful to watch out, lest I should step on one and break up somebody's home.

When I take time to notice nature's small details, I can't help but think of how great our God is, for creating all these creatures.  Think, even for just a moment, about what kind of mind can not only grasp and understand every detail in the universe, but also make every detail of the universe out of nothing.

This belief, too, is an act of faith.

Paul knew we'd be challenged to believe in a Creator God, so he wrote you and me right into the faith hall of fame, just as a reminder:  "Through faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God, so that things which are seen were not made of things which do appear."  Hebrews 11:2

Jesus Himself knew we'd lose the fervor of our faith as soon as we forgot that He--the Word, who was with God from the beginning, who was God, by whom all things were made (see John 1)--created all things, so He told John to give that last-in-the-list lukewarm church His Creator credentials:

"And unto the church of the Laodiceans write; These things saith the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the beginning of the creation of God..."

He goes on to tell His church how to turn their lives around, how to have open eyes, how to have true riches in Him, how simple it is to just open the door and invite the God of the universe inside the heart, to fellowship with and be changed by this God who made us all in the first place.

As I began refocusing my prayer life, I started seeing some other areas that need refocusing in my heart.  This week, I'll be especially intentional about opening the door and spending suppers, so to speak, with the One who created everything and who can keep creating good things even in me.

Anyone with me?

When it Rains

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The streets here are designed to handle a good storm.  Little ditches everywhere direct the water exactly where it needs to go, so that it drains into a canal that has depth to hold a lot more water than usual.

Of course when the flash flood warning hit, we made sure to go out in it to see how bad it would really get.  The car made a few interesting noises, but otherwise enjoyed the adventure as much as we did.

None of the peppers in their pots were actually floating away, so we weren't to worried about them.  But that floating idea sounded like fun, so we decided our inner tubes were a better vehicle for the streets that day than our car.

The neighborhood children were all out on their bikes, a few parents were out taking photos, and there we were.  Mature, educated adults, wading down the river-street to where it was just deep enough to go floating.

Which was great fun, by the way.  Never waste a good flash flood warning, you know.

Another Black Swallowtail Butterfly

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All summer long, we've left three or four little green chrysalises in a big glass jar on the back patio.  On the first day of school, a butterfly came out of one of them!  She was a little camera shy, but another butterfly emerged yesterday, and I was able to capture him while his wings were still a bit ruffled, before they were even ready for flight.

Four months ago, our caterpillars made their first chrysalises.  We had read that sometimes the butterflies will "overwinter" for sometimes several months, we thought we'd see just how long that would take.  In our case, it would really be "oversummering", since I suppose the butterflies wait to emerge until the heat has passed.

Two chrysalises remain--I'll have to let you know when they hatch!

Eggplants, Tomatoes, and Sunrises

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Almost exactly a year ago, I dropped my husband off at his new job and went straight down to the car repair shop.  During the next week or so, I took him to school in a rental car, and spent the day looking at rental ads (for houses, not other cars), trying to find a place to live.

One of the things I remember distinctly from those early-morning drives were the breathtaking sunrises I enjoyed out my rental car window.  

Since we get more rain this month than most other months of the year here, there are often dramatic cloud formations on the eastern horizon, and the light has a new show every morning.  I'm loving the chance to enjoy them again, this year from my back yard or my morning walk.

We've had quite a few more pollinators in our garden lately; however, I still pollinate the eggplant flowers every day, just to be sure.  We wouldn't want to miss out on any of our promised fruits if the pollinators happen to take a day off.  And as you know, we have several ways we love to eat eggplant (which don't include eggplant Parmesan!).

We've been eating Japanese White Eggs in relative abundance.  We've had one Rosa Bianca so far, with more blossoms on the way, and our first Aswad Eggplant flower bloomed today.


I can't say how nice it was to come home after summer breaks to a few established plants like these, especially in comparison to starting everything in the garden from scratch when we moved in last fall.

We were perhaps inordinately pleased with ourselves to have started our tomato seeds a full six weeks before we did last year.  Oh, how high our hopes for them have been climbing!  

This time, we've transplanted them up to three-inch pots to help them get a bit bigger and more prepared for life in the garden plot before putting them out permanently.  It won't be long now before they'll be ready to venture out into the wide world.

We've planted three plants each of four varieties:  Amish Paste, Bonny Best, Ingegnoli Gigante Liscio, and Big Yellow Zebra.  Our seeds are a couple of years old, and the last two varieties I don't see available through Baker Creek anymore.  Nonetheless, we'll grow them while our seeds last, and perhaps attempt to save some (even though they might cross pollinate a little in our small space).



(I'm not compensated at all for these links to seeds--just thought you might enjoy knowing which varieties we're growing right now.)

The Beauty of a Bee

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I spent a lot of my vacation admiring bees.  Remember how we haven't had very many here, and have been pollinating our garden produce by hand?  Well, I was for obvious reasons freshly enamored with the bee.  Any bee.  Every bee.

Bees on blackberries.  Bees on Queen Ann's Lace.  Bees on weeds.  Bees on sage.  Bees on wildflowers.  Bees on home garden flowers.  

It seemed to me they were everywhere, and it was especially tempting to covet them.

I told a friend I am gaining more appreciation for the organic farming movement--and non-GMO foods--all the time.  I just can't bear the thought of losing the bees.

We've done our part in our little corner of gardenville.  We try to grow organically (we're learning, so I don't use that term too officially), and we only order heirloom seeds.  Still, the bees hadn't found us, and I exclaimed with joy over every little bee I saw on vacation.

Of course the first thing a gardener wants to do upon return from vacation is to look at her garden.  Out to the back yard I went, expressing the usual amazement over how much everything had grown in our absence.

But the best thing of all?

Over there in the basil patch, where every plant was way overgrown and laden with flower stocks,

I. Saw. Bees.

Yes, bees!  They've been frequenting the basil flowers by the multitude every day since, and although I've harvested a good share to make pesto (four new batches in the freezer so far!), I've left some flowers for my new friends to enjoy.

I hope they've found the tomatillo flowers, too.  I've read they'd like those, if they'd just give them a try.

Beauty and Happiness are Real, Too

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Heidi, unto all people, nations, and languages, that dwell in all the earth:  Peace be multiplied unto you.

Because of course that's how I would address all of you if I were ruler over the largest, most influential nation on earth.  Which I'm not, but the world wide web can carry my words every bit that far, right?  Well, maybe without the influence of absolute and forceful authority over my readers, but you know. 

I'm posting on location, as you might be able to tell from my photo of the Knik Glacier surrounded by its beautiful snow-capped mountains.

And I've been thinking in my travels about how Nebuchadnezzar and Darius began their letters to the nations, telling them all what a wonderful God Daniel and his fellows served, telling them to give Him reverence, telling them all about the things the God of heaven was doing in their lives.

That's really what I want this blog to be about, too.  All about the ways my God changes, brightens, and enriches my daily life, whether I'm out in the garden, studying His Word, or enjoying the beauties of nature.

I know there's often talk on blogs about making sure life online is "real", by which it seems that most people mean they want to be sure other people behind computer screens don't live perfect lives either.  As if a balanced picture of life has to include more of struggles and ugliness, and less of beauty.

Here, though?

While there might be times I reflect on grief or pain or sadness, most of the time I come to my little corner of blogland to remind myself that beauty is real in my life.

It's my pause for breath on a climb heavenward, moments taken to look back over the breathtaking view God makes out of an imperfect life dedicated nonetheless to Him.

An Anniversary and a Butterfly

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First thing this morning, as if in celebration of our four year anniversary, we found a newly hatched female Black Swallowtail butterfly, ready to go out into the world of flowers and flight.

If you had told me four years ago today that I would be in south Texas, kissing the cheeks of the sweet grandmotherly greeters at church, understanding more and more meaning in each sermon in Spanish, growing okras and watermelons and learning to eat prickly pears, I don't know if I would have believed you.

Life takes us unexpected places, doesn't it?

Yet through all the unexpected life places I've been in the last four years (because from starting graduate school to learning a new language, ALL the places I've been since that May 31 in 2010 have been unexpected), I'm more glad than ever to share my life with a man who has the sweetest heart and the truest unfailing integrity.

Texas Spotted Whiptail

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I'd like you to meet one of my new South Texas friends, who I'm quite sure is called a Texas Spotted Whiptail.  This little guy and his buddies scurry around my garden every morning when I go out to visit the plants (i.e., water them, pollinate them, and pull the weeds around them).  While everyone else dives for the shade in the afternoon sun, these fellows stay out soaking it all in.

He's quick on his feet, but sometimes when I startle him (I'm much taller than he is, after all), he slides a little as he scurries across the sidewalk seeking shelter underneath the next blooming bush.

These delightful garden companions don't always get along with each other, though.  Once, two of them were so intent on chasing each other that they didn't even have time to notice me.  When they ran into my flip flop, it was my turn to be startled!

Our Black Swallowtail Butterflies: A Timeline of Their Life Cycle

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Now that we've released three Black Swallowtail butterflies into the big wide world (and the second graders at school have released more than that), I thought it would be fun to look back over the time they've spent with us, and document the timeline from the egg discover to the first release.

We found the eggs and the first caterpillars on April 21, 2014.  (My post about it:  The Black Swallowtail Dilemma)

Since I read that only one in one hundred butterfly eggs makes it all the way to butterfly adulthood, we rescued the caterpillars from predators, sharing some with second grade and keeping a few protected at home.  We continued to watch their growth.  (My post about it:  Black Swallowtail Caterpillars)

It was more difficult than I expected to mark the transition between instar stages; we simply ended up enjoying watching them gradually change and grow.

By May 3, we had our first chrysalises.  Three were green, three were brown.  In the second grade classroom at school, my husband tells me the colors seemed to be location specific.  That is, all the green ones were on one type of terrain, and all the brown ones were on another.  (My post about it:  A Black Swallowtail Caterpillar Makes a Chrysalis {With Video})

On May 13, our first butterfly hatched!  From the day we found the first caterpillars and eggs, to the day of the first hatch, was three weeks and one day.  I let the beauty go out into the neighborhood on the morning of May 14.  (My post about it:  A Black Swallowtail Emerged)

So would we do it again?  Absolutely!  Even though it did end up ruining my best dill patch ever, the whole process has been a delight to watch.  In fact, we truly are doing this again.  The other day, my husband found the tiniest of caterpillars on a parsley plant out back, and we simply didn't have the heart to save the parsley.  Just one this time, so far, but he's already pretty fun to watch.

We'll try some more parsley and another dill patch come fall.

A Black Swallowtail Emerged

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I had no idea.  I spent the day catching up on (some of the) dishes, working on ScriptureTyper memory verses, and prepping the garden for a predicted two to four inches of rain.  The rains haven't come down so much that the floods started coming up, though, so it has been a pretty quiet day, severe weather warnings notwithstanding.  I was thinking the day had been progressing all along without fanfare.

EXCEPT.  One thing.

When my husband came home?  He took a look at the chrysalises, and found this beauty of a black male swallowtail already out in the world.

See the green chrysalis below him on the stick?  It shouldn't be long before we have five more of these gorgeous creatures.

I'm not one to buy clothes that only have the design going half way around them--a waist band only on the front, a pattern on one half of the sweater but not on the back, that kind of thing.  I guess that makes me enjoy that this guy has patterns on both sides of his wings all the more.

See how wide his wing span is?  Just about four inches--the wings in this photo are not quite open all the way.  It's just one of the most amazing things to see a chrysalis in its compact smallness, and imagine that only hours before this smooth-winged, large creature was somehow cramped up inside of it, and still came out so perfectly.

What a great thing to happen on a Tuesday, wouldn't you say?

Salt of the Earth

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We gather up the necessities:  sun hats, sun screen, water (yes, lots of water), sunglasses, car keys, mission story book.  

The sun beats down hot, but we know we need to get out in nature whether it's 95 out or not, so we simply prepare as best we can and give ourselves permission to come home again even if we get hot sooner than we'd like.  Since the drive away from the city noises takes the better part of an hour, we've fallen into the routine of using the time to read stories of faith.  

This trip?  We're reading a story from Showers of Grasshoppers about African cotton farmers who might lose everything if they stay true to their faith.  I make it a habit to come to suspenseful ends of chapters and close the book as if I am going to stop reading, because every time I do my husband throws the most adorable fit and begs me to keep going. 

We wander out past the outhouses that used to be infested with black widow spiders, down the path lined with blooming cacti, past the bird lookout station, out onto the salt.  It hasn't rained in a few weeks, and the salt is at its most impressive yet--large square crystals melded together like a sheet of chunky ice.

I think of those people in the book, and even though I don't know the end of the story yet because we really did have to stop reading when we arrived at the dusty parking lot, I feel sure some of those people will risk everything to honor God's commandments, claiming His promises.

These faithful ones must be who Jesus meant when He said "Ye are the salt of the earth."  

Out here on the salt flats, I think differently about what that means than I ever have before.  This salt isn't just a flavor bringing out the best in the food on my plate.  It's an entity that grows, filling in holes and gaps in the sand, changing what life forms survive in its presence and what life forms don't.  Even when the water rises, the salt doesn't wash away.  It simply changes the character of the water.

As our hour and twenty minutes in nature (the length of time it takes to get too hot to be out in it any longer) washes away the stress of a week, I pray I will become like this salt.  Always fully present, so constant in character that no matter what floods or droughts inundate my life, my surroundings will indeed be tangibly changed by the strength of my faith.

A Black Swallowtail Catterpillar Makes a Chrysalis {With Video}

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We watch the little caterpillars eat whole leaves from the dill and parsley we feed them (we run out in the garden, so we buy more organic parsley from the grocery store).  They get fat quickly, and we can't seem to tire of of the way they search, find, and nibble the leaves, and repeat.  

I admit, I'm especially taken with their stumpy feet that hold on to anything while they bend and twist around with half their bodies or more looking for the next leafy victim.

Right before they make a chrysalis, the Black Swallowtail caterpillars are at their fattest yet, but they have to empty their digestive tract.  When they do so, they shrink a bit, and begin to wander.

Will this stick be the right hanging place?  Or will they search for another?  They wander to the very limit, and sometimes gravity carries them right back down to the bottom when they don't hold tightly enough to the last end of a branch.

They twist and turn, inspecting each potential chrysalis site with care.  Once satisfied (or at least more contained than they are when they try to roam all over creation), they settle on a place on the underside of a stick, attach with a string, and wait.  Within a day or so, without much warning, they make the chrysalis.  Which takes ten minutes or less, believe it or not.

Now, it's not much that will entice me to stay up late.  Not New Year's, not 4th of July fireworks (usually, anyway).  But that last look at the caterpillars, and finding one that just might be wiggly enough to make a chrysallis soon?  

That will absolutely keep me up until 1:00 a.m., especially when the second one starts the process right after the first one finishes.  And I will be unbelievably tired the next day (I don't sleep in well), but it will have been worth it all, just to have seen the miracle of a chrysalis in the making.

Due to technical difficulties, today's video will be posted on Google+ rather than directly in this blog post, and you can view it here.  It's about three minutes long, and I hope you enjoy watching this miracle as much as I did!  :)

Black Swallowtail Caterpillars

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This morning I gathered up extra food and extra vases, and carefully transferred most of the black swallowtail caterpillars to the new vases.  They were about to take their first ride in a vehicle.

You see, Mr. Second Grade Teacher was waiting for them at school, eager to let his students watch the life cycle unfold.  Sure enough, green branches with little things crawling on them were enough to capture the  students' curiosity, and within moments I was explaining to a wide-eyed youngster that these guys would turn into butterflies soon, holding out my fingers as I motioned, "THIS BIG!"

They've grown a lot in the last week, to be sure!  Soon I'll show you some more photos of the biggest ones.  You can't imagine how fascinating it is to watch one eat through a whole sprig of dill in a matter of minutes, clinging with some feet, using other feet to search out the juiciest leaves, twisting the whole body around to get the mouth around the newest morsel from the best angel.

The Black Swallowtail Dilemma

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 {Black Swallowtail Egg}

Remember that Black Swallowtail who sweetly visited my yard recently?  Yesterday, I figured out why.  (Looking back at that photo, I now see a hint of the dilemma to come, right there under my nose the whole time!!)  Here's what I wrote, in great distress, to my friend who loves butterflies and raised some herself one year. 

"We have a terrible dilemma on our hands.

"Our dill patch has been doing really well this spring.  I've been so excited about it, because I love dill, and it is hard to find it in the grocery stores.  I picture containers and containers full of my very own dried dill, to use in all my favorite things.

"And we have been delighted to notice a few black swallowtails visiting our yard.  Such beautiful butterflies!  Graceful creatures to be sure, with their yellow and blue spots lining their backs...

{Black Swallowtail Stage 1 Instars}

"Well, we found caterpillars on the dill plants today, and with a little help from Google, we've ascertained that dill plants are indeed a common egg host for black swallowtail butterflies, and the little guys on the leaves are indeed first-stage black swallowtail infants.

"Hence the dilemma.

"Do we sacrifice the dill, or the butterflies?!  Neither choice seems like the best one.  :(

"Perhaps you can lend your sympathy, even if you don't have advice."

{Displaced Black Swallowtail Stage 1 Instar}

Of course, we have several possible solutions to this dilemma.  We could save the dill at all costs, no matter what the cost to the butterfly world.  We could save the caterpillars, no matter what the cost to our garden.  We could bring them all--or some of them--inside, and feed them with store-bought parsley (their favorite host plants include carrots, dill, parsley, and the rue plant) until they mature.

Here's what I've done thus far.

1.  Take photos.  I might as well document the downfall of my best dill patch ever miracle of the butterflies.

2.  Displace a few of the hungry little infants to our parsley plants which are about to go to seed anyway, since we have seven more teenage parsley plants coming along nicely to replace them....hence saving a few of the dill leaves for us?  Maybe?

3.  Show the yellow eggs and the instars/caterpillars to my piano students.  Bonus education.

4.  Harvest as many dill leaves as I can find that don't already have eggs or infants on them (at least, as many as I can find before being devoured by mosquitoes).  Put them in the Garden Master dehydrator, and know that at least we'll enjoy a small part of the bounty.

5.  Order more dill seeds while Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds is offering free shipping for Earth Day.  We're almost out, and I was relying on this crop to replace my seed collection...but I don't know if I'll get any seeds post butterfly life cycle.

We still don't know for sure if we'll leave them all in the garden, or if we'll try to find some wild host plants and displace some or all of them, or bring some indoors, but if you're interested in more information about the Black Swallowtail life cycle, or raising some yourself indoors, check out these two resources:

Life Cycle of the Black Swallowtail
Raise Black Swallowtail Butterflies Indoors

And do tell:  What would YOU do if you were in my shoes?

Huisache, Acacia farnesiana

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Recently when some young ladies complimented me on my outfit, saying, "You look springy," I wondered how in the world they knew what spring looks like--really looks like.  

Here in south Texas, there are green things all "winter" long, there are flowers blooming, and sometimes you even walk around your neighborhood in the evening darkness looking at Christmas lights without wearing a coat.

In a world like that, how can they know what spring means?  The kind that bursts forth in full bloom after months of gray, the kind of green that replaces the brown, the kind that brings out yellow flowers first, as if knowing you need something the color of the sun after the weeks and weeks of long nights and short days?

Over the last few weeks, though, I've been delighted to see some distinctly south Texan signs of spring.  Many of the trees do bring out a new coat of leaves to celebrate the season, and the neighborhoods are full of flowering trees I've never seen before.  And wonder of wonders, while we have had no tulips or daffodils, there are Whole Outdoor Flowerbeds full of Amaryllises, which I've only ever seen grown indoors, one at a time.

It did not once occur to me that there would be a place in the world where such things were possible.

These yellow-blooming trees were among my new delights a few weeks ago.  Their soft, puff-ball blossoms smelled sweet, cascading down the full height of their tall trees along the city's exercise trail.  

I didn't know what they were until a friend told my husband about a yellow blooming tree named Huisache, whose flowered branches his grandmother brought into his bedroom in bouquets when he had colds, to help him heal faster.  I'm quite sure he was talking about the trees beside the walking trail.

And isn't it just like our heavenly Father, to tuck health and healing into the scents of blooming and beautiful branches of trees, abundantly available for our use and enjoyment?

Of course, I don't know if there has been a scientific study to show the health benefits of the Huisache scent, but I wouldn't be the least surprised to find out that their blossoms, especially combined with fresh air and good ventilation, really would help cleanse a room and the people in it.