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“Mariposa Invicta”
(Butterfly Unconquered)
This month’s painting is one of the most meaningful I’ve created – at least to me. At first glance, it’s simply a monarch butterfly resting in my late‑summer garden. You might think, “What a lovely moment.” But for me, it became something far deeper.
Late last summer, while working among the greenery of my garden, a flash of orange and black caught my eye. A butterfly – a monarch—rare here in the Appalachians—had drifted down through the tall trees that frame my garden and paused to rest. I was thrilled, mesmerized even. Then I noticed her wing.
Something looked off. When she opened her wings, I saw it clearly: the lower portion of her left wing was missing. A torn, jagged edge where flight should have been effortless. My heart sank. It was late in the season, and this could have been one of the Methuselah generation—the monarchs who travel 2,000 to 3,000 miles to overwinter in central Mexico. How could this fragile creature survive such an epic journey with a damaged wing?
I was certain she wouldn’t. Until she flew.
With a determined flutter, she lifted from the marigold where she’d been feeding, rose through the trees, and disappeared southward. The fragility I had projected onto her dissolved, replaced by a sudden, humbling recognition of her strength and resilience.
Later, studying the photograph I’d taken, something else struck me. Behind the marigold was a cluster of cosmos—simple, beautiful flowers growing from seeds gifted to me by a dear friend who has been fighting a monumental battle of her own. Over the past year I had worried for her and mourned her frailty. What I had failed to see—just as I had with the butterfly—was that I was focusing on the wrong thing. I had fixated on vulnerability when I should have been honoring her strength, her endurance and her quiet, unwavering resilience.
Nature has a way of teaching me exactly what I need to learn. In this painting, I tried to capture one of the most important lessons yet: strength often comes from the most unlikely places, and resilience is anything but fragile.
I hope, before long, to see the descendants of that battered monarch gracing the cosmos.
This greeting card is a high quality, large 5” x 7” card printed on heavy card stock with a satin finish. Each card is hand-signed and created with framing in mind. Arrives in protective sleeve.
“Mariposa Invicta”
(Butterfly Unconquered)
This month’s painting is one of the most meaningful I’ve created – at least to me. At first glance, it’s simply a monarch butterfly resting in my late‑summer garden. You might think, “What a lovely moment.” But for me, it became something far deeper.
Late last summer, while working among the greenery of my garden, a flash of orange and black caught my eye. A butterfly – a monarch—rare here in the Appalachians—had drifted down through the tall trees that frame my garden and paused to rest. I was thrilled, mesmerized even. Then I noticed her wing.
Something looked off. When she opened her wings, I saw it clearly: the lower portion of her left wing was missing. A torn, jagged edge where flight should have been effortless. My heart sank. It was late in the season, and this could have been one of the Methuselah generation—the monarchs who travel 2,000 to 3,000 miles to overwinter in central Mexico. How could this fragile creature survive such an epic journey with a damaged wing?
I was certain she wouldn’t. Until she flew.
With a determined flutter, she lifted from the marigold where she’d been feeding, rose through the trees, and disappeared southward. The fragility I had projected onto her dissolved, replaced by a sudden, humbling recognition of her strength and resilience.
Later, studying the photograph I’d taken, something else struck me. Behind the marigold was a cluster of cosmos—simple, beautiful flowers growing from seeds gifted to me by a dear friend who has been fighting a monumental battle of her own. Over the past year I had worried for her and mourned her frailty. What I had failed to see—just as I had with the butterfly—was that I was focusing on the wrong thing. I had fixated on vulnerability when I should have been honoring her strength, her endurance and her quiet, unwavering resilience.
Nature has a way of teaching me exactly what I need to learn. In this painting, I tried to capture one of the most important lessons yet: strength often comes from the most unlikely places, and resilience is anything but fragile.
I hope, before long, to see the descendants of that battered monarch gracing the cosmos.
This greeting card is a high quality, large 5” x 7” card printed on heavy card stock with a satin finish. Each card is hand-signed and created with framing in mind. Arrives in protective sleeve.