The yellow swallowtail caught my eye and lured me outside. It fed and gracefully danced all morning. I didn't realize that its wings were damaged until I went outside with my camera. Then, I saw and heard all of the other buzzy things flitting in and out of the remaining flowers. An anole crept up a sage stem and leaped to the cover of the lantana. A dragonfly zoomed in and out of my hearing as I leaned in closer to look at some of the tiny butterflies no bigger than my fingernail. Bees of different sizes landed on flowers in my peripheral vision and directly in front of me. Ants crawled into the centers of the morning glories, and the underside wings of the painted ladies glittered in the high-noon sunlight.
Good thing the bees, wasps, moths, humming birds, and butterflies don't mind that my butterfly garden is a complete mess. This summer has been so hot and so dry that the basil is yellow and wilted. A morning glory vine wraps around the rosemary, and Johnson grass reaches taller than the lantana and chive flowers. The sunflower long ago fell sideways and dried up. Weeds choke the overgrown oregano, but a couple of volunteer zinnias keep blooming brightly in their awkward places against the brick sidewalk.
So much activity in such a small place. The light is starting to feel like September.