Last week the zinnias got a well deserved deadheading. This week they’re showing that they are, indeed, grateful for the attention. If you are a butterfly, you are very grateful for this service.
Aside from just being delightful to look at and the cheerful bouquets Patrick has kept covering the kitchen counters this summer, the zinnias have been the butterfly capital of our property. Even more so than the butterfly weed. So, go figure.
Flutterby the Butterfly and Flicking Wrists
Sunday afternoon I did a quick walk in the garden, picking things that were wanting out of the heat and otherwise minding the store. I asked the Parsnip for the camera, he just stood very still and didn’t start towards me. I asked again, louder. The Snip is deaf in one ear and has selective hearing from the other = )
Again, he was a statue, except this time with his right hand he gave a short flick of the wrist, the exact same sign I use to tell the two little boys that the wrestling, squabbling, or smack talk needs to immediately cease. Did he just shush me?
“Did you just shush me?” Another flick.
Oh good gravy, I’m not standing here while you flick your wrist at me. What’s gotten in to that guy anyway? I huffed to the back yard. “Flick your wrist at me? I invented that move, you can’t use that method on the person that invented it. Next you’ll be holding up one finger or snapping your fingers at me. Yeah, just try that.”
A full ten minutes later he strode to the back, handed me the camera and said, “I got some stuff for your blog, I hope they turn out okay.” He had taken these cute pictures of a butterfly.
Aww…I take back like, 90% of all the bad things I was thinking about you. I’m leaving 5% because it does seem like you could have just calmly said something like, “Just a second, I’m taking some pictures.” The other 5% were not intelligible thoughts, but more random, primal, simian grunts. They’re just left out there. Please don’t flick your wrist at me.
So my wrist flicking, uncommunicative, sweet husband got some really cute pictures of some of the flutterbies that love to camp on the zinnias. He’s a good boy. Even if he did flick his wrist at me.
I love my zinnias.
I love the butterflies.
I love my husband.
Not necessarily in that order.
Have a great Tuesday. Make it paisley!~KeriAnne