Holding On To Magic

Homesteading is About Harvesting More than Vegetables

Early June brings with it many delights, and sitting out in the garden it’s almost more than my heart can hold.

Everything is in bloom, and each shifting breeze brings the fragrance of a different set of flowers from every corner of the yard. Strawberries are almost ripe, the first dragonflies brighten up the evening skies, and a soft chorus of bird song echoes from every direction.

Early June is also a time of incredible stress, at least for northern gardeners. It’s when we see our last frosts (in a normal year) and it’s when garden work kicks into high gear.

Sometimes, in the rush to get things done, it’s easy to miss the magic happening all around us. Often enough, nature will set something before us that stops us in our tracks, and with luck, reminds us to take a look around and breathe in a bit of wonder.

This spring, I found myself rushing around, as usual, trying to get everything done. There are new canning recipes to try, nearly 30 garden beds to plant, and dozens of wild plants and herbs in season, just waiting for harvest.

I bounce from one task to the next, often forgetting my place and getting distracted mid-task half a dozen other things that need doing. Most of the time, my 7-year-old daughter runs along by my side, smelling flowers and galloping on her imaginary unicorn.

More often than not, it’s her attention to detail that grounds me, and brings me back to the magic of the here and now.

I’m living in the future, you see…looking at harvests down the line, and things that will fall apart if not done. Most days, I rarely spare a moment for the present…until something magical brings me back.

This past week, a luna moth clinging to the wall of our greenhouse stopped my daughter’s unicorn gallop in mid-stride, and she excitedly called me over to see her new treasure.

I’ve seen luna moths before, almost every year in fact. It’s hard not to notice their impressive wing span, almost surreal sea foam green color, swirly trailing tails, and fluffy yellow antennas.

Every year, I see them…but I don’t really see them.

One glance from my daughter, and she had to know everything about them. Where do these magical creatures come from? How do they get here? What do they eat? Why is it holding still like that, so calm on my hand?

This is one of those times I really appreciate the wonders of the internet, and how readily available information is, on any topic in the world. That knowledge is there at our fingertips, and a few seconds later we both knew what a truly special treasure these little creatures really are.

Luna moths only live for 7 days, and they only fly at night. They emerge from their cocoons in the late afternoon of a warm day in Early June and spend just 2 to 3 hours flexing and straightening their wings, preparing for that night’s mating flight.

If you want to see one, you literally have just a 2 to 3 hour window on one afternoon each year…and then they’re off into the night.

They don’t eat at all during their short 7 days (or I should say nights) of existence, so they’re neither pollinator or pest.

Those giant fluffy yellow antennae are the mark of a male luna moth, and he uses them to smell for females. They can detect the pheromones of a female 2 to 3 miles away, drifting on the night wind.

The trailing flourishes beyond their wings? Those confuse the echolocation of bats and help them avoid becoming a tasty snack.

During the day, they sleep in the trees among the leaves, hiding in all that green foliage. Should a bird chance to see them, they’ll be scared away by the sight of two eyes staring back at them from the center of a luna moth’s wings.

Every detail is perfect in form and function, and incredibly well designed to find one another in their short 7 days of life on the wing.

Out here in the woods, among the birds, bees, flowers, and the trees, there’s so much rare and beautiful magic to behold. Fleeting things, that are there (at least in this case) for no more than a few hours each year, and then they’re gone from our world until the next.

We set our beautiful discovery on a birch tree near the garden and checked back in on him every few minutes…until he flew out of our lives forever right at dusk.

Until next year little luna moth, when your own children will stop us again in our tracks, and remind us to see the magic in the present.

The future can wait.

Until Next Time,

Ashley at PracticalSelfReliance.com