I became a little obsessed with monarch caterpillars this summer. In the absence of making, during a very busy and stressful time at work and with my family, my only outlet was focusing on these little creatures. I couldn’t make, there was no space in my head to do so, so have had to wait.
When I think a bit more deeply about why the caterpillars became so important to me I see a transference mechanism had kicked in. I am very grateful for the distraction, they have helped me through a very tough time. Who knew that they had such abilities hidden within their striped bodies.
On a whim I bought 5 small swan plants at the beginning of summer. For years I wanted to, but my husband had always discouraged me, continuously reminding me that they are highly toxic plants and not pet and child friendly. I never knew my kids to eat leaves, but growing up they had been known to collect plant detritus and discarded insect skins in wonderful child posies, and my dogs are a bit daft, and will eat pretty much anything. So I went along with it. But this summer, with the children more interested in teenaged things and the dogs, well, they are still stupid, but far more lazy. I rebelled.
I brought my spindly little plants home, loveingly transferred them to big pots, put them in the garden and eagerly waited. I had purposely chosen some with tiny little residents already munching through the leaves so was super confident that the magic would happen. I even named them. We spent time together every day – I would have a chat to them as I left the house to catch the bus to work, and converse with them when I came home. I would tell them about my day and they would listen while they ate and slowly got bigger. I knew how many lived on each plant, would count them often and swap them over if one plant was getting hit too hard. They became my confidants, my friends and my constants as things got crazy at work and my daughter became increasingly unwell at home. And then they started disappearing. I couldn’t figure out where they went. I scoured the garden, but found no one. After a few days I found a dried up caterpillar head in the leaf litter. And then another. I was loosing them and I couldn’t work out how. Turns out it was wasps. I installed wasp traps, but still they kept disappearing.
I rescued some caterpillars from a wilding swan plant on the edge of a local reserve. They were being overrun with praying mantises who are also partial to caterpillar dinners. But, despite my regular checks and best efforts, they eventually all disappeared too. As I was barely hanging on to my human responsibilities I was also loosing my caterpillars. I would sit beside the swan plants trying to swat away the wasps, but they just kept coming back. I felt defeated.
But then, a miracle. Some gorgeous little eggs appeared on my plants. This was to be my third chance to nurture them through to butterflies. Once again, I made friends with them (had I learnt nothing?!), and watched them grow. There were only 6 this time around, surely a manageable number. We talked, I swatted, they ate and got bigger. When they started getting really juicy I brought them inside, the threat of wasps was too much. The house smelt of green and if you were really really quiet you could hear them munch. They were safe and growing. I had control over something when everything else in my world felt so out of control. I watched as they built chrysalises – they were almost done. And then a few weeks later they hatched. I watched them hang upside down as their wings dried and then they flew off. All grown up, out in the world, fully formed. My role as their guardian and protector was over. I guess that means it is now time for me to make again.