A Moment With A Monarch: Join My 365-Day Peaceful Photo Challenge
DAY 299. Living with irrevocable differences and curating peace through contemplative photography.
June 27, 2025
Yesterday’s sunny June afternoon, I wandered a familiar dirt path lined by swaying reeds when a flash of orange and black halted my step.
My eyes followed the movement and settled on a monarch butterfly perched on a marsh grass, its wings closed, revealing a pale orange, cellophane-like underside, accented by bold black veins and white spots.
I froze, wanting to study her, afraid to disturb her stillness and cause her to take flight.
She remained motionless, resting, I thought since butterflies do not sleep.
I tiptoed closer, held my breath, lifted my phone, and in that silent moment, captured her peaceful image – her stillness a praise to the heavens and a gentle reminder, even a compassionate call of caution, to us caught up in the constant gales of rush and worry.
At that moment, too, I felt a renewed hope. I have seen fewer and fewer butterflies in New York over the years.
Monarch remained there, stationary, for a long time, it seemed. It was right that she rest.
Watching her reminded me of the importance of rest and nature’s quiet resilience.
Monarchs travel up to 3,000 miles, can beat their wings up to 120 times a minute, cruise at four to 12 miles per hour, and generally have a life span of two to six weeks, except for the last generation of the season, which live as long as six to nine months to survive the winter and birth the following year’s first generation.
Despite their remarkable cyclical journeys, the monarch’s eastern U.S. population has plummeted by 80 percent, making this encounter a rare gift and emblem of strength and transformation.
As Robyn Nola reminds us, “Butterflies are nature’s angels. They remind us what a gift it is to be alive.”
Reviewing my photographs transports me back to the marsh’s soft summer melodies, where the sun’s warm radiance kisses our hungry skin, the earth’s steadfast support is beneath our feet, and we can find daily restoration in a moment of rest with nature.
What is the impact of this shared moment on you? How do small moments with nature strengthen and transform you?