Monarch

While staying with friends in New Zealand, I kept noticing butterflies drifting through their garden, returning again and again as if the space belonged to them. At first glance, they looked like the Monarchs I grew up seeing in Canada—familiar, and almost nostalgic. But the longer I watched, the more I realized these were something different. Their wings carried a deeper, richer gold and orange, edged with crisp black lines, and their bodies were dusted with tiny white dots that felt almost ornamental. They moved with an unhurried confidence, catching the light in a way that made it impossible not to stop and look.

Curious, I learned that what we often call Monarchs back home are actually moths mimicking the true butterfly. That discovery made the moment feel even more special—like being let in on a quiet truth of the natural world. This image became less about recognition and more about paying attention, about noticing subtle differences and allowing them to change what you think you already know. It’s a reminder that beauty often lives in those small details, waiting patiently for us to slow down long enough to see them.

Glen