A species of sulpur butterfly is sowing its oats all over my candlestick plant. I'm not sad about the caterpillars' slow destruction of my beautiful candlestick flowers and leaves because the plant served as the dating locale for their parents in the last several months. Ever since this plant was not much more than a stick in the ground with a few cute leafy stems, there have been two little buttercup yellow butterflies skittering about. It has been a frequent dance routine. In the mornings, we'd see the flittering. They'd land for a blink of a sip of nectar, then go about their fluttering.
Somewhere in the dancing steps, somebody deposited eggs that have now grown into yellow butterflies. I am not familiar with these as much as I have become with the monarchs since just across the yard, there lies a milkweed heaven that a few months ago was bustling with monarch caterpillars.
My first glimpse this morning was from the bedroom window. The caterpillar's contrast against the leaves caught my eye from clear inside the house. Upon closer observation, other siblings were there too, more camouflaged. I looked up candlestick plant caterpillars and there is strong resemblance, although slight differences between my little sulphur offspring and the model online. The others were from up north. I was happy to connect the caterpillars with the butterflies that had so daintily (is that a word?) flitted around the plant before.
Reading over my caterpillar commentary, I'm now wondering if I am a complete dork. Do I have a million other things I should be doing right now? SURE! Did my Saturday morning come to a screeching standstill because of a caterpillar? Yep.
But, do you see the caterpillar INSIDE the candlestick flower? So cool.
But, do you see the caterpillar INSIDE the candlestick flower? So cool.
