Hiking the Huckleberry Trail and entering into endless fields of fervent flutter-bys, ravishing and delightful; full of brilliance. It was shocking how many there were, ba-jillions… floating, squirming, fighting, fleeing back and forth in all sorts of flight patterns; anxiously in search of sweet August nectar before the summer sun sets.
When Kenai was first born; back in 2020, I remember the first time she saw a flutter-by and she thought it was a friend she could chase, and lick and play with. But as soon as it got in her lips, it never came back, she didn’t know yet how to be gentle; or what ever happened to her new friend.
Butterflies are resilient, though. Check out these photos: some have been thru more than just a husky puppy’s grip. They are the true survivors here.
Slowly and gently, my friend. The best things in life are too delicate to fly-by. Take flight (again) the wild flowers provide stable landing pad for all sorts of creatures and insects. The moths become gorgeous butterflies amidst the backdrop of nature itself.
Fly, honey. Today you are alive.
Teton Butterflies
The mountains become a fluttering mosaic of wings as butterflies drift through alpine meadows and lodgepole forests like living brushstrokes. Painted ladies, mourning cloaks, and tiger swallowtails dance among the wildflowers. Lupine, Columbine, and Indian paintbrush each provide a sip of nectar, reflecting a quiet celebration of warmth and abundance. Their flight is erratic yet purposeful, tracing invisible paths through the crisp mountain air, catching sunlight like shards of stained glass. In the hush between wind gusts and bird calls, their presence feels like a whisper from the wild: delicate, ephemeral, and calling us to be deeply alive.
