White Admiral

This might be a new butterfly to me – the White Admiral. Limenitis arthemis. I saw a post from a nursery I follow on Instagram calling this an Admiral. I thought, oh no, that’s a zebra butterfly. I was all mixed up. The zebra butterfly is a southern species – Florida – and, although it is black and white, it has more stripes on its wings. I noticed this one in my garden, sipping at the borage flowers, and took photos. Google identified it as a White Admiral. I also was able to take a closer look and see the spots of color – blue and orange-red – on the bottom and underside of its wings. These spots linked it more closely with the Red Admirals I see often around here.

It happens a lot. I realize I’ve misidentified plants and insects, When it happens, I really feel something creaky turning over in my brain. Oh gosh, how could I have been so wrong. It is refreshing. It’s good to realize I have a lot to learn. As a child, I frequently consulted some little field guides that helped identify local wildflowers and insects. At that time I was living outside Chicago, so there were some regional differences then to now. And I learned only the most basic species from that experience.

Maybe the name White Admiral has associations with racial and military hierarchies. Maybe it’s a bad name. I read about this butterfly on a Canadian website called the Maritimes Butterfly Atlas and it helped me feel better about the name:

One of the first species of Canadian butterfly documented by European settlers, it appears on an early map of Halifax named the “White Admirable”.

Speaking of admiration, I ran across this poem on Substack today. I actually really like it.

LATE PRAYER by Erin Robinsong

May our weapons be effective feminine inventions that like life.

May we blow up like weeds, and be medicinal and everywhere.

May the disturbed ground be our pharmacy. May the exhausted

hang out in the beautiful light. May our souls moisten and reveal us.

May our actions be deft as the inhale after a dream of suffocation.

May the oligarchs get enough to eat in their souls.

May we participate in the intelligence we’re in.

May we grow into our name. May political harm

be a stench that awakens. May we not be distracted.

Let our joy repeated be power that spreads.

May our wealth be common. May oligarchs come out

of their fortresses and become psychologically well.

May their wealth be returned to the people and places.

May we shift slide rise tilt roll and twist.

May we feel the very large intimacy

And may it assist us.

From Metatron Press