This morning, the tiny butterflies of my childhood are tripping amongst the damp fronds of grass and flirting near the sprawling scabiosa in an area of garden where butterflies are encouraged. Perhaps transcending magic, is the arrival of Spring in the alcove formed between our house and the garden where butterflies are encouraged. Here, self-sown seeds of alyssum, nasturtiums and galloping calendulas, delight in scrambling amongst the last of the fragrant violets. In such a mild wilderness of herbs and cottage plants, butterflies love to congregate: only yesterday a brilliant Wanderer butterfly, migrating from the north, spread its blackveined, tawny-orange wings and fed repeatedly on the purple sprays of the Buddleiia. It is not unusual, in this part of the garden, for butterflies to actually land on one’s head ….. no, it is not unusual ….. but it is always magic!
Across the garden’s entrance gate, an archway of yellow banksia roses clamber. The pathway is lined with rosemary bushes, mostly propagated by mere cuttings from friends’ gardens over the years …. now, all are bearing spikes of the translucent blue flowers that the bees cannot resist. A robust Portugese Pink Rosemary sprawls beneath the garage downpipe, sturdily dependant on occasional rain falls and ever-eager to welcome the felicitations each spring from the Wanderer Butterfly and other “flutter-bys”.
Nearby, Fruit-Salad Sage stands head-high, eagerly proffering its wide, velvety leaves as butterfly landing pads, and its tubular, pink clusters of flowers as a sweet taste for passing honey bees. This is truly a magical season, as medieval, blue-starred borage self-sows around the old well.
