I don't know if you know the story of our butterfly bush. Liz gave it to me a number of years ago after having popped it out of the ground with her big metal pole. She said it would be fine even though it consisted of two scrawny sticks with one big scraggly root. My dad helped me plant it on a hilly bank next to the house, even though he was pretty doubtful that it would ever amount to anything.
I guess the first year not much happened, but by the second year it grew to a few feet tall. We started to get honeybees and butterflies now and then.
During the past few years it has gotten huge, growing in an arc of branches over a span of about six feet towards the house, and in hundreds of other crazy directions. It's about nine feet tall now and fifteen feet across, all from that spindly little stalk.
Last year the butterflies were aplenty, and we even got the gift of two hummingbirds. We felt super special about that. I have tried hanging out under it but it's not that fun and kind of poky.
This year, I have seen more of the blue butterflies in the area than I have the monarchs, which I have seen few of so far. I get lost in their wings. I can't think of how I could possible come up with anything more beautiful in my mind, and am glad I don't have to. I just get to have this gift.
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