Monarch butterflies come through northeastern Pennsylvania every year, finding our cone flowers tempting way stations. This year a specimen stayed focused on the nectar hunt long enough for me to snap dozens of photos from a variety of angles. I like these three perspectives for the detail that I could observe and research.
The first photo distinctly shows the black dot on the vein in each hind wing, a field mark that identifies this beauty is a male.
In this second photo, I am struck by the Monarch’s thorax, perfectly coordinated with the black and white polka dot wing trim.
In this final shot, the Monarch wings held in the vertical plane, I get a clear glimpse of the feet searching for nectar among the cone flower’s nectaries.
What a delight to get reacquainted with this lovely symbol of hope and transformation.
I am going to feel mixed up all week. Monday holidays scramble time frames and Tuesday will be Monday all week long. So I head out into this week, a bit off kilter, but hopeful that the path will lead to people and ideas that nourish hope.
My reading list includes Rev. Dr. William J. Barber II’s The Third Reconstruction. His words “Forward Together, Not One Step Back” are looping like a melody. Andi Cuomo-Lloyd’s Discover Your Writing Self guides my journaling, which slowly and surely is chipping away at my writer’s block.
I have settled into a routine (ish) for writing steadily on “That Damn Dodson Project” and built in time to mindfully watch birds decide spring is arriving six weeks early.
I am grateful for friends, IRL and in FB silos, and for my family, with and without fur.
So, on this Monday-Tuesday I take one step, one breath in, one breath out, and begin.
Aunt “Sissy” Rattigan saved the Treasury Department envelope, “Important: Contains U.S. Savings Bonds” recycled to store important photographs and newspaper clippings. My husband identified this 1912 candid as his grandfather, James Aloysius Corrigan.
After graduating high school, Jim worked as a clerk in a Hazleton (PA) clothing store, and held offices in the Clerk’s Union and St. Gabriel’s chapter of the Knights of Columbus. In his late twenties, Jim attended Bloomsbury State Normal School before following his brothers’ footsteps to Jefferson Medical College, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, in 1911. The thirty-one year old medical student posed for someone’s camera the following summer, nattily dressed in a wool suit, hat in hand.
I wonder what stories floated through that open window.