The Post Card

by sssmahh303, posted in Friends and Family

Mary Ann

In 2004, I had a trip of a lifetime going to the Galapagos Islands.  I can remember studying in my high school biology class about Darwin and the giant Galapagos tortoises, and I said to myself that one day I would go there and see the tortoises for myself.  It was the first destination I added to my bucket list.  I am not sure we even called it a bucket list!

The Enchanted isles better known as the Galapagos Islands is an archipelago about 600 miles west from Ecuador.  These relatively young islands each have unique habitats with fauna and flora that is only found on a particular island.  The isolation of the Galapagos has caused the animals not to fear humans.  It is truly a peaceable kingdom, so close to God. 

When you fly into the Galapagos and meet your tour group, you join a flotilla of varying sizes of boats to explore the islands.  You will be at sea for most of the time on your expedition.  Each group has a guide that is responsible for their group’s actions.  The islands must be kept in pristine condition to ensure that these specials environments remain in tack for the plants and animals that live there. The tour groups are tracked and if any litter is found after a visit, the guide is heavily fined, so the guides are on top of their groups’ behavior.

However, there is one place that the rules do not apply, and that is Post Office Bay on Forena Island. There is all kinds of junk and graffiti surrounding a big round barrel that is the post office.   Originally, Post Office Bay was used by early whalers to send and receive mail.  The Post Office was a barrel where mail is stored until an eastward or westward whaling ship picked up its mail or left mail to be transfer back to the United States to their families. 

Today, postcards are placed in the barrel by tourists, and the next tourist group that comes along is given the post cards by the guide to be mailed when they return to their home countries.  So, some go to France or Sweden or the Unitd States. This is where my postcard story begins.  I volunteered to take a pack of about 40 postcards back to the United States.  I would stamp them and then mail.  I left a bunch of my own cards for someone else to mail my cards.  It does work because people got my cards.  If friends and relatives never receive a card, I bet the cards are sitting in someone’s backpack. It is an old-fashioned way to mail, but it works 

When I got back to our boat, I began to look at the pile of post cards and in the middle of the pack was a post card that was supposed to be left in the barrel for someone personally to pick up.  Below is the card and the message.  I have been so guilty that I had the card.  It was accidently given to me, but I have wondered for 20 plus years that I changed the course of two people’s lives by having the post card.  It was so romantic and neither one of them knew what the other had done.  Were they star-crossed lovers never to be reunite again?  The message was lost, and I had it.  

There was no way to get the post card back to the barrel.  Once we left Florena, we were on to another island which was hours away, never to backtrack.   It may have meant nothing, but what if it was a note from one lover to another.  I had accidently changed their destiny.  They didn’t connect.  So, I kept the card and hoped the universe reunited them somewhere else in South America or wherever.  As we traveled on our adventure, there were lots of young people on trips of their own travelling around the world.  You can only hope that the young lovers’ paths would cross again.  

However, I feel better sharing this story.  The whole episode might mean nothing, and both Jen and Brendan are now happily married to other people.  I hope they are not pinning away about a lost love in the Galapagos. 

When You Need Them …

by Cynthia, posted in Wellness

I remember observing my mother and all her friends. She had more friends than most, I believe, or maybe it was just a simpler time when women had time to develop relationships with other women. Mom had friends from church, from a civic group, from a non-profit sorority, and probably other organizations. She lived in the same city for over 40 years and as she added friends to her fold, she kept the ones she already had.

Mom would sing the children’s song to us: “Make new friends and keep the old. One is silver and the other gold.” The tune still plays in my head. The advice is solid.

Several people holding hands around tea, letters, and blankets

Even after I moved my mother to live with me when she experienced a series of mini strokes, her friends would drive over an hour to visit her. They would send cards and letters. They would call each other. Many a day I hosted her friends for “coffee”, brunch, lunch, or “tea”. Likewise, I drove her to see friends or attend her “church lady group” on days she felt well enough. It was a joy to see their friendship in action – truly an inspiration.

My friend circle, however, is narrower — likely the result of rearing a child as a single parent and working full-time as a professional. Developing friendships was more challenging because time was limited. I did try several times over the years but many of those efforts fizzled out as being the one who always “made the call” or having to schedule weeks or months in advance were exhausting.

Once I retired, I resolved to put more effort into developing friendships. While these are not lifelong relationships, they are nevertheless resulting in strong bonds.

Recently I scheduled a “procedure” as the medical community likes to call them – not a full-blown surgery but more than a visit to the doctor’s office. A requirement of this procedure was to have someone drive me and be present during the procedure. Initially, I was at a loss as to who I would ask. My daughter had just returned to work after being out for month for surgery of her own. My grandchildren have limited time off, as they are early in their careers. I would have to turn to a friend.

Three older adults arrive by car at St. Jude’s Hospital main entrance

I mentioned the procedure to a friend who immediately offered to take me. Just like that! Without asking the day or time, she volunteered to deal with me! So, I was set. Waiting for the day to arrive, a few more ladies learned of the procedure and every one of them offered to take me. One new friend even offered her husband as she does not drive!

What a blessing to have friends who will go the extra mile! We all need others. Often, we are told that as we age, socialization is vitally important. Yet, having someone to count on also is necessary. Sometimes we must be the one to reach out first …. and again. In the long run, developing new friendships, even as seniors, has so many benefits. And it is nice to know they are there for you when you need them.

Timmy Stories

by sssmahh303, posted in Friends and Family

Mary Ann

I have shared Timmy stories with you in the past about my naughty little brother.  The following are short vignettes of some of his adventures. Hope they tickle your funny bone!  All the escapades happened in the 1950s when your mother let you out to play for the day and had no idea where you were or what you were up to.  It was the time when no one wore a seat belt and smoking was accepted as stylist.   I can’t imagine any of this would have happened today. 

 

Turkeys

One of our neighbors had a pen of big white turkeys that they were raising for Thanksgiving. Timmy learned that turkeys that we ate for Thanksgiving dinner were the same birds living just a few doors down from our house.  In his little boy mind, he decided to do something to save the birds.  He opened the cage and freed the birds who began visiting all the homes in the neighborhood while they pecked around for their dinner.  Of course, the birds were rounded up and returned to their cage.  I am not sure anyone really knew how the turkeys escaped.  Timmy did with a knowing smile.

The Little Beagle

Timmy would go out to play, but there were not really many children his age to play with him.  This was the time before preschools, so I am sure he had some lonely days trying to entertain himself.  He did, however, have a furry friend to keep him company.  The Mannings who lived across the street had a little beagle who was penned up in their backyard.  Every day, Timmy would take a piece of clothesline, open the pen, and take the beagle for a walk.  This went on for many months, maybe years.  The Mannings never knew that their beagle had a daily walk.  The little beagle and the little boy had a friendship which made them both happy and filled their days. 

Mary Had a Little Lamb and I had Timmy

When I began kindergarten, my classroom was in the basement of the K-12 brick school. There was a line of windows at the top of the room near the ceiling that brought light into the classroom.  Since I was not home to be Timmy’s playmate, he would follow me to school and sit by the last window watching what went on in the kindergarten.  No one seemed to notice that he was stalking his sister, but I knew.  It seemed, as most older sibling know, your younger siblings shadow you everywhere.   I guess I should have been flattered that he thought I was a rock star to him.  Timmy was so ready for school and nowhere to go in those days.  He eventually found other classrooms in the basement of the school, and he played shoot’em up with finger guns with the high school history teacher who was a family friend.  Timmy’s days were full of fun adventures that Mary’s Little Lamb never experienced.

Stubby’s

Stubby’s was a little general store that was down the street from our house.  It was a Borgata of 1950s small towns. Several times a week my mother would go to the store for odds and ends she needed for dinner or something for the house.  We would often accompany her and would get a piece of penny candy for being well-behaved in the store.   I remember red licorice so well.  In the summer, we would get a popsicle.  When we left, my mother would say charge it, and at the end of the week she would settle the bill for the week. 

Well, Timmy watched each time my mother would charge her shopping, and I think he figured that what you said to get something.  One afternoon, he treated the neighborhood kids to treats and said charge it when they left the store.  Stubby asked Timmy if he was allowed to do it.  Not to disappoint anyone, Timmy said sure. He was now the king of the neighborhood.   It was summer so the neighborhood gang visited Stubby’s for a few weeks before my mother began to question why her bill was much higher than usual.  Stubby spilled the beans.  Timmy’s generosity was curbed, and he learned an important economic lesson that there are no free rides for anyone. 

We still chuckle about these family stories. There was such innocence in those days.  I think most people would take those problems compared to what children deal with today.  I hope these short stories made you chuckle as well.

Life and Death and Giants

by Cynthia, posted in Reviews

Life and Death and Giants by Ron Rindo is an ambitious title that suggests a story concerned with both intimate human experience and larger, almost mythic forces. The novel’s appeal lies in the many tensions between varying religious and secular beliefs, in secret longings, and in placing importance on different lifestyle choices.

The story peers into life and death both as deeply personal realities and of perceived beliefs.  The “giants” evoke the pressures, fears, and ideals that can make individual lives feel small while chronicling the life of a boy who is inordinately large – a giant by most accounts. This combination gives the work a reflective tone and encourages readers to consider how people search for meaning when confronted with situations or characteristics beyond their control.

When I first began reading the story, I feared it would be too slow-moving and mundane. Yet its imagery and premise create a sense of scale, inviting reflection on mortality, courage, and the ways people confront change.  At times, the weight of these ideas may feel more compelling than the progression of the narrative itself, but that philosophical quality is also part of its distinctive character.

Life and Death and Giants is a thoughtful and evocative work for readers who appreciate stories that combine personal emotion with broader symbolic questions. It may not appeal to those looking for a fast-paced or purely plot-driven experience, but its meditation on human vulnerability and resilience gives it lasting impact.

Within a couple of chapters, I was hooked and could not put the book down. The dilemma of a mother’s love in an environment which forced her to follow a gut-wrenching path was made even more painful upon learning of a tragic reality. The story, told from different characters’ points of view reeled the reader more deeply into the philosophies and experiences of the people in the story.

Concepts and beliefs presented sometimes took me aback, challenging my own way of thinking while reminding me  to step away from judgement and open my mind and heart to other possibilities. The story was thought-provoking, offering me a wide range of emotions — sadness, happiness, frustration, and celebration. This is a story worth visiting if you want a novel that is enjoyable to read while opening the reader to consider his/her own values and perspectives.

My Hand

by sssmahh303, posted in Lifestyle

Mary Ann

At our age, I know that you have looked in a mirror and wondered who is that old lady or old man looking at me.  At first, you are shocked, but eventually you get used to him/her looking back at you.  A mirror makes it real.  You are old!

However, I have come to find another shocking smack-between-the-eyes aging feature that I never gave a second thought to in the past.  It is my hand.  I was always told I had pretty hands.  I inherited my hands from my grandmother who was a hand model in the 1920s. That is no longer true.  I see a hand of a crone with wrinkly skin and puffy dark blue veins intertwined in the bones of my hand.  There are bony knobs on many of the finger joints and fingernails are ridged and weak.  I haven’t gotten age spots yet, but I am sure they on the way surrendering to the many years of sun. 

 My hand is now just skin and bone.  Good grooming with some nail polish helps and jewelry can add some sparkle, but sometimes it just looks like you are trying too hard.  As you age, you finger joints enlarge and makes rings impossible to hop over the knuckle. What rings once fit no longer do.  Your ring size goes up, and it is not necessarily weight gain. 

I do need to look beyond how my hands looks and remember what my hands have done.  Each of the wrinkles were hard earned.  My hands have lived a long life of many experiences.  At first your hands are held lovingly by your parents.  Then you grow up and are holding the hands of your husband with rings on your fingers that declare your marriage.  Motherhood arrives later when you then hold the hands of your young child, and in the end, you hold the hands of your parents in the last moments of their lives.  It is a circle of life.  Holding hands is connecting with the ones you love. 

Your hands are doers with washing laundry and folding clothes.   You are cooking for your family, or it could be just for you.  Then there is baking birthday cakes and Christmas cookies.  You are tying shoes and braiding hair. You are catching balls and throwing them back.  You are planting flowers or sewing a Halloween costume. You are giving a belly rub to your pet.  You are playing the piano or typing up your master’s thesis.  Your hands are always doing.  

You are creating with those hands.  Making flower arrangements and painting masterpieces that may only see your basement.  You are writing blogs or maybe the great American novel.  You are learning calligraphy or quilting or cutting stained glass – all using your hands.  You are sewing, knitting, and crocheting.  You are holding a camera with your hands and clicking pictures with your fingers.  Throwing a pot or carving a sculpture uses your hands.  Jewelry making and woodworking are handicrafts.  Handi meaning “hand” made.  Our hands brings us joy allowing our creativity to flow through them.

Looking back at my life, I realize that my aging hands have brought me so much happiness and are proof of a life well-lived.  Exploring the world through touch is such a gift and keeps on giving until your last breath.  So, when I now look at those hands of a crone, I must remember they are just souvenirs of my life.  

Busy, Busy, Busy

by Cynthia, posted in Friends and Family

When I was a professional, a twelve-hour day seemed normal. I knew what I was supposed to do each day when I arrived around 7:00 am and spent the day in meetings, writing reports, reviewing contracts, and assisting staff. When I retired, I expected life to slow down. Frankly, I thought I would be bored.

Admittedly, my busy days are no longer twelve hours of intense interaction, yet I still find myself wondering when I will have quiet time. Every day includes figuring out what healthy foods will meet my dietary needs; walking and exercising; and visiting with friends and family.  Weekly chores such as laundry, housekeeping, and gardening are interwoven with less mundane – more fun activities.

Older woman carrying a basket of laundry beside an open washing machine

I observed, jokingly, that my social life is filled with funerals and doctors’ appointments. Such is life. The reality is I have engaged myself with several groups and individuals who do a variety of things. I joined four book clubs (one for which we don’t read the book, but someone reviews a book over dinner), a six-week class, periodical lectures, and a kaffeeklatsch.  At least once a week I play mahjong.

Is it any wonder that when scheduling coffee or lunch with a friend, we have to retrieve our calendars. In fact, at one point, I created a conference call for three of us to find a mutually agreeable time to get together for lunch! When did I get so busy?!

Three friends laughing over lunch and wine in a cozy bistro

Over and over seniors are warned against becoming reclusive. While I imagine there are those who prefer to stay at home, it seems to me seniors are more engaged now than ever before. We don’t need to scroll endlessly through social media – we are too busy creating our own stories.

I am grateful to be in good enough health to be able to spread my flabby wings and get out and about. I make a point to reach out to people who I know are relegated to home – to take them a pastry or coffee and sit a while listening and talking.

We don’t need to be busy twelve hours each day. Still, we want to keep our minds, bodies, and spirits as active as possible for as long as we are able.

Doctors!

by sssmahh303, posted in Wellness

Mary Ann

Have you notice lately how difficult it is to get a doctor’s appointment?  For some specialists, it can take you 6 to 9 months to get an appointment.  New patients just must wait.  However, I have noticed how hard it is to get an appointment with a doctor where you are an established patient.  I am finding I am waiting a couple of months to see one.  

For example, I recently had a problem with my ears and sinuses, so I called my ENT for an appointment to get to the root of what is going on between my ears.  It was painful, and I needed some help.  This was the beginning of August, and I couldn’t get in until the middle of September.  I am an established patient.  I ended up going twice to my primary who gave me an antibiotic and later a steroid.  It would hold me over until I could see the specialist.  Well, I got a call from the ENT office, and they had to reschedule me because the doctor was not coming in on my appointment day.  The earliest they could reschedule me was two weeks later.  By the time I see the doctor, it will be a full two months.  Thankfully, I had some options because I was really in discomfort. 

Another example, I have found myself looking for a new dermatologist.  I just didn’t feel I was getting the attention I needed for a mole check – 5 minutes in and out.  So, I began looking around. Our county newspaper does best of whatever, so I called the top dermatology group that was selected by our community for an appointment.  I was shocked what the appointment desk told me.  There was a two year wait to see the lead doctor.  However, I could get an appointment with the new associate in a year, so I have an appointment a year out.  I wanted a great woman dermatologist.  I guess everyone else also wanted these doctors.  

I understand this is happening everywhere.  I have friends in NYC with its many doctors and hospitals, and they are waiting for appointments and testing slots.  We are apparently having a doctor’s shortage, and even if you have good insurance or money, it is not helping. 

According to Google, we are having a growing doctor shortage and by 2036 there will be a deficit of 86,000 doctors.  We have major shortages in general practitioners, family medicine, and geriatrics, as well as specialties.  Since I have enough specialists for a baseball team (I borrowed this from Dave Barry), this is horrifying for us old people.  We (70 plus million people over 65) are geriatric, and we need doctors that understand this phase of life. 

It is rumored that next year Medicare is going to ask doctors to do an appointment for an evaluation and then another appointment for the procedure.  If you need your ears cleaned, it may now take you twice the amount of time to solve your problem.  I guess the powers that be are making it even harder to get medical care.  How does that solve anything? 

I joke all the time that my social life is going to the doctors.  It is a rare week that I do not have a doctor’s appointment of one kind or another.  I am trying to stay on top of my health issues.  I wonder what we can all do to help this growing crisis?  Most of us cannot send a young person to medical school; however, medical schools need to increase their enrollment.  I know some young people who wait years to get accepted.  Step up, teaching hospitals!  We have a lot of smart kids in the USA that would make wonderful doctors. This is supply and demand.  We demand more doctors.

On a grassroot level, we can all have more patience with our doctors.  I swallowed hard when my ENT appointment was changed. The doctors are doing the best that they can, and God bless the receptionists – they get all the complaints!  Take something to read or do like knitting or brain games, so you can look at the wait time as a gift to do some fun things.

We can say thank you.  I get small gifts for my doctors for Christmas, just a remembrance, and write an appreciation note in the Christmas cards.  I don’t spend much money on the gifts, so I try to be creative – a tin of tea or a gift card from Starbucks.  The doctors are so appreciative, touched in many ways.  A personal note can suffice as well.  I always tell them not to write me a thank you note, their time is precious.  I am thanking them, not necessary for them to thank me.

My brother-in-law with Parkinson goes to many doctors as he fights this disease.  He takes candy bars to his appointments for the whole staff, and it ripples through the office that Ron is here with his basket of goodies.  They all need a pick-me-up during their busy days.  Ron is the Johnny Appleseed of medical goodwill.

I am sure that you have your way of expressing your appreciation of the people who take care of you.  We need our doctors, and we need to be grateful for them.  A sincere thank you can be the best medicine for your doctor and you.

An Introduction

by sssmahh303, posted in Taking Care of Business

Cynthia and I would like to welcome Lisa to the Silver Sage Sisters family.  I have mentioned Lisa several times as my partner in the non-fiction book club we do together. Silver Sage Sisters has tried to bring informative and entertaining blogs to you, and Lisa adds another perspective with her law background. She will also write on other topics as well. 


Hello, my name is Lisa. Once upon a time, I was a practicing probate lawyer. I have been retired for a month and a half. My friends, MaryAnn and Cynthia, have kindly invited me to share some of my experiences and thoughts about probate and estate situations.

Terms

I am starting with describing terms that are used in estate planning and probate. This can be a bit confusing.  Probate can refer to the court process by which property is passed to others on the death of someone. One’s estate refers to the same probate process; however, the estate planning refers to the planning one does during one’s lifetime. Depending on the state you live in and who you’re talking to, both terms are used in one or both of those ways. 

Real Life


Most people hate all those words in that paragraph. It seems to me that this whole process is easier if we think of it as the gift of reducing chaos for both yourself during your lifetime and your family at your death and afterwards. The goal in these processes is to have rules, structure, and function to address your family’s particular needs and to reduce the unknown and the chaos that can happen both in your lifetime and at your death.


The first thing you have to consider is who your family really is. It is important to be honest about different people’s temperament and how they are likely to respond if you need help before or after your death. Part of my job was being the bad guy in helping folks describe to their family why they picked one person over another. We often talked about geography and who was closer to you. Another factor might be in a child’s particular ability and training to handle financial matters. There also might be a situation where one child has small children, and another child has none but has the time to handle these affairs. It also may be the case that if you don’t have a spouse or children, you would rely on friends and more distant relatives to handle your affairs. It is important that they are reliable. 

These are not all the factors. Don’t engage in wishful thinking that they’ll do a good job with any of these factors.  If you have no other people available to help, your state may have services that you can hire to handle these matters for you. In certain circumstances, you may be able to engage a bank to help you.

War Stories

There was the mother and father who picked two children who hated each other to be the co-personal representatives or administrators/executors as they are known in other states. It took four hours to open the account for the probate process. The bank was so concerned that it required both parties who lived three hours apart to appear at the bank to both withdraw and deposit money. Then there are those who picked people who were dishonest and left nothing in probate for others. These cases are difficult to prosecute if there’s wrongdoing, so it is best to avoid that in the beginning if you can. All this information applies both to the probate process and estate planning. 

This is a brief introduction to terminology and some planning gone awry. As always, you should consult with your own local, estate-planning attorney. Concepts provided here may not be relevant in your situation.  In future blogs, we will investigate more about probate and estate planning. 

The Screwtape Letters

by Cynthia, posted in Reviews

For the past several weeks I have attended a class/book club at which the reading material is The Screwtape Letters. Written by C. S. Lewis, the author of many Christian-based novels including Narnia, the work is an eye-opening account of humanity.

The Screwtape Letters is a satirical Christian novel presented as a series of letters from Screwtape, a senior demon who reports to “our father below”, directed to his inexperienced nephew Wormwood. Wormwood has been assigned to tempt a young Englishman, referred to only as “the Patient,” away from faith and virtue. By telling the story from the demons’ perspective, Lewis reverses familiar moral language: God is called “the Enemy,” while selfishness, distraction, and spiritual apathy are treated as desirable achievements.

Study group discussing Lewis, Human Nature, and Temptation around a library table

The letters trace Wormwood’s efforts to influence the Patient through ordinary pressures rather than dramatic acts of evil. Screwtape advises him to exploit irritation, pride, fear, romance, family tensions, politics, war, and even church life. As the Patient converts to Christianity and gradually matures in faith, the demons repeatedly adjust their tactics, revealing how temptation often works through small habits, distorted priorities, and plausible excuses.

A central theme of the book is that moral decline is usually gradual. Lewis portrays evil as parasitic and repetitive, while goodness requires humility, attention, courage, and freely chosen love. Screwtape’s advice also exposes forms of self-deception: people may confuse religious feelings with genuine devotion, mistake anxiety for responsibility, or let abstract causes replace kindness toward the people around them. The demonic viewpoint gives these observations both comic sharpness and serious ethical weight.

Published in book form in 1942 after appearing serially during the Second World War, The Screwtape Letters combines theology, psychology, humor, and social criticism. Its wartime setting raises questions about fear, suffering, death, and courage, but its focus remains the daily formation of character. The book endures because its insights extend beyond its specific religious framework, inviting readers to examine how attention, habit, desire, and choice shape a life.

The class facilitator reminds us weekly that we are worthy. The book is a reminder that both God and satan want our attention – our souls. Each of us have value in the “bigger picture” of life.

I found the book to be challenging reading, although it is well written and expertly structured. Consistently, I had to remind myself that the author of the letters, Uncle Screwtape, works for the “father below.” Thus, turning concepts over, I found wisdom for living a life on the straight and narrow, so to speak. While the book is fairly short and easy to read, the premise is heavy. If you want a book to address moral code, you may enjoy diving in to see what Uncle Screwtape has to offer.

Butterfly Summer

by sssmahh303, posted in Lifestyle

Mary Ann

When I first started this blog, I wrote the Last Buzz, a blog about the dwindling populations of butterflies and bees. It was and is alarming how few pollinators we now see, and yet they are necessary for life on our planet.  Pesticides and narrowing habitat are major reasons we are in the predicament we are in.  

I told you in the blog that I had started a butterfly garden in a flower bed in my front yard.  I studied the best flowers to grow to attract butterflies and hummingbirds and literally created a smorgasbord of delights for the pollinators.  I have toiled the last four or five years building a garden by adding more perennials for returning blooms and lots of annuals for color.  The flower bed is maturing and at last is on its way to self-sustaining. These are all sun-loving plants that do not need much water.

During the years of building a garden, I had mixed results with the butterflies.  I kept an annual count of all them.  I had yellow tiger swallowtails and black swallowtails.  Tons of little skippers, and occasionally, there would be red admirals and painted ladies. There is a unique little fellow, the hummingbird moth, that has a long proboscis favoring a hummingbird that would visit the butterfly bushes.   They would all come throughout the summer, and I could sit on my front porch and watch a kaleidoscope of colors flit around the garden.  However, the crowning moment of the summer was always the return of the Monarchs. 

The royalty of butterflies came to my area around the second week in July.  I would have between 10 and 20 monarchs most years, but one year, I only had one lone Monarch.  I had planted milkweed both the common and swamp varieties which the Monarchs needed for their caterpillars to eat. With each year the milkweed bushes grew bigger and stronger.  Sometimes I would have milkweed blooming and no Monarchs, and other times I would have Monarchs with no milkweed blooming.  It was hard to tell what the Monarch count would be.   

Then, the planets aligned and the milkweed bloomed all summer.  It was a bumper crop year for both butterflies and milkweed!  I had Monarchs from July until mid-September.  There would be a least one Monarch each day.  In fact, there were so many Monarchs that I stopped counting – I am sure it was well over a hundred.  The garden was full of their favorite plants, but their preferred food by far was the pink swamp milkweed.  They would feed a little then they fly around catching a breeze and then back to feeding.  If a four-inch butterfly can be happy, the Monarchs were.  I witnessed them mating, laying eggs, and this year we had caterpillars.  Babies!!!  I imagine that the caterpillars that turn into butterflies this year would be the ones to migrate south and maybe all the way to Mexico where Eastern Monarchs winter. 

This past winter the Monarch Butterfly population increased 64% in Mexico.  After years of decline from record breaking numbers in the 90s, numbers were up.  This is miracle in the making, but this miracle had a lot of help from people.  More people have planted milkweed which makes a friendly environment for the Monarchs. Rather than cutting down the habitat, Mother Nature was left to naturally tend her gardens by providing space for wild milkweed.  Fellow gardeners have planted indigenous milkweed to encourage Monarch populations in their area.  

My neighborhood nature friends have planted more milkweed for these beautiful flying flowers, and it has really paid off.  One friend had 20 Monarch caterpillars on her milkweed this year.  My brother Tim is now planting a pollinator garden in his yard.  He has fallen in love with their magic.  Once that happens, you are hooked, and you want to help the butterflies and bees anyway that you can.  I am collecting milkweed seeds as the flowers turn to seed to give away so others can begin their gardens.  Many people throughout the country have done just that and collectively we are making a difference.  

So, I end on a hopeful, positive note. I do hope this is a trend and not an anomaly of just one year.  However, I will always remember the summer of 2026 as my butterfly summer.  It was such joy to watch them dance around the garden.  They will always be dancing in my heart.