Much like the way I checked every day from January through April to make sure my beloved little red-breasted nuthatch duo were still chillin’ in the yard this year, I’ve been checking the yard this week for something much smaller.
And finally, I saw it. A monarch caterpillar on the underside of the common milkweed. It was so small. Thinner than a spaghetti noodle, and about as long as a push pin.
Next to where that patch of milkweed grows, there’s a meadow. One that’s been slowly evolving. Not over 3 years, not over 5, but more than 10 years of seasons, storms, and setting suns.
Standing there on a ladder (yes, the Joe Pye weed has decided it’s part tree now) I found myself thinking about how a garden actually grows. When you plant native plants, every plant is an invitation. Some are accepted almost immediately. Others sit unanswered for years. Then one day, you’re watching butterflies. And another, you’re filming a monarch caterpillar eating, because there’s something oddly therapeutic about watching them munch along.
It’s one thing to think of gardening as planting. But ecosystems aren’t planted. They’re assembled, piece by piece, over time.
Because birthdays, it turns out, are exactly like that too.
Today, I turned one year older. But it’s not just a square on the calendar that dictates that. It’s the year of days, memories, and experiences that happened before. The assembly of everything that brought me to this particular moment. Birthdays, like butterflies, don’t just arrive one day. They happen because of what came before them.
The tiny monarch caterpillar wasn’t there the day I planted the milkweed. Or the week after. Or probably even the first year. It arrived after years of the right conditions accumulating.
That particular patch of common milkweed has been slowly growing and expanding in this little corner at the edge of the meadow. Those tall spikes, about 4 feet tall now, are slowly but surely growing in number.
Just like the candles on my cake.
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