Of Butterflies and Goodwill

Largely brown and yellow, with two colourful eye spots, there’s no mistaking the Christmas butterfly when it flutters by. More often called Citrus Swallowtails, they’re common in gardens during December and January.

But butterflies are like birds: if you want them to breed in your garden, you need the right plants. When we decided to make our garden indigenous, we checked up on what would attract the different species. We learned that other than citrus trees, the Cape chestnut was a good food source for the caterpillars of the Citrus Swallowtail.

So we bought a young sapling at the Kirstenbosch Plant Sale. We read up that we could expect our chestnut to flower after about eight years and so we waited patiently. The deadline came and went, and still we waited. Finally, after ten years, we were rewarded with a few flowers. 

Today I stand at the bottom of our garden and look back at the house. Arching over the roof on the right is a beautiful, strong tree covered in a pale pink flush of flowers. It has lived up to its botanical name, Calodendrum capense – beautiful tree from the cape. Maybe, in all its decoration, it should be called the Christmas tree.

In the meantime, we discovered what to plant in our garden for the caterpillars of other butterflies. We learned that Wild Peach trees are great for Garden Acraeas, those ubiquitous orange creatures with transparent wing tips. Arctotis and gazanias are for Painted Ladies, whose caterpillars are the only ones to spin themselves webs. Plumbago is good for the Common Blues, while carpet geranium, of course, attracts the Geranium Bronze.

Sometimes, the caterpillars do quite a lot of damage to our greenery. But once they’ve metamorphosed into their fragile alter egos, it’s all worthwhile. Often, I stand in front of the beds of scabiosa and Cape forget-me-nots, watching the butterflies flit from flower to flower. I once watched four Citrus Swallowtails put on a magnificent aerial ballet outlined against an azure sky. Well worth a few chomped up lemon trees, I reckon.

Don’t tell anyone, but I’m even starting to think that those prolific alien invaders, the European Cabbage Whites, can look rather appealing when dancing above the scabiosa.

Maybe it’s because I’m still basking in festive goodwill. Siegie and I wish you and your families a thrilling 2010, filled with joy, love, life's little essentials – and butterflies.