I planted my garden boxes differently this year. Longing for a sight from home, I planted poppies, strawberries, and sweet peas. I figured the bright colors and fragrance would attract plenty of butterflies, even up to my third-story perch. It had worked last year, after all. But no… late winter snows and early summer rains drowned half of my plants and battered the others. Yet there were survivors, and the little paper packet of wildflower seeds I’d dumped liberally across the surface of the boxes, courtesy of the local credit union, did wonderfully well.
Still, although to my amazement a hummingbird came around, there were no other colorful nectar-seeking visitors to my boxes for the longest time. And then this little gray hairstreak appeared.
I plant, tend, and still don’t know entirely what will thrive and what won’t. I hope. I water and encourage life where it appears, and if that happens to be a dandelion… well, who knows what other beautiful life that dandelion might support? It served its purpose well enough that afternoon, that humble garden “weed.” If I’d barred it from my boxes, uprooted it when it first appeared, and given into the fear of it taking over the rest of the box, I might never have enjoyed seeing the little gray and orange dandy sporting among the blooms.