ON A RECENT AFTERNOON, I looked up from washing dishes and out the kitchen window to see a solitary monarch butterfly flitting among milkweeds. Something as common as a butterfly remains, for me, one of summer’s simplest delights. Along with milkweeds and fireflies.
This year I have a bumper crop of milkweed plants growing in and along flowerbeds and retaining walls. I stopped counting at 24 plants. I have no idea why the surge in milkweeds. But I am happy about their abundance given monarchs need milkweed. It is the only plant upon which the monarch lays eggs and the sole source of food for monarch caterpillars.
My farmer dad, if he was still alive, would likely offer a different opinion about milkweeds. As children, my siblings and I walked rows of soybean fields eradicating milkweeds, thistles and the notorious cocklebur. This was called “walking beans,” a job that we hated, but was necessary to keep fields mostly weed-free without the use of chemicals.
I never considered then that I might some day appreciate milkweeds, the “weed” I pulled from the rich dark soil of southwestern Minnesota. On many a hot and humid afternoon, sweat rolled off my forehead and dirt filtered through the holes of my canvas tennis shoes while hoeing and yanking unwanted plants from Dad’s soybean fields and on my cousin John’s farm.
Today I instruct my husband not to pull or mow any milkweed plants in our Faribault yard. Randy understands their value, even if he didn’t walk beans on his childhood farm. He more than made up for that lack of field work by picking way more rocks than I ever did. Morrison County in central Minnesota sprouts a bumper crop of rocks compared to my native Redwood County, where I also picked rocks.
But back to milkweeds. I love the scent of the dusty rose-colored common milkweed. So if you drive by my Faribault home or walk through River Bend Nature Center or Central Park or past Buckham Memorial Library and see me dipping my nose into a cluster of milkweed flowers, that’s why.
As summer progresses, I’m curious to see how many monarchs soar among the milkweeds in the tangled messes of plants that define my untamed flowerbeds. Thankfully our next door neighbor appreciates milkweeds also and is OK if the wind carries seeds onto his property.
I’ve already seen fireflies aplenty in our backyard, which abuts a wooded hillside. And recently, while driving home in the early dark of a summer evening, Randy and I saw hundreds of fireflies lighting up grassy road ditches. It was truly magical, reminding me of childhood sightings and of Eric Carle’s children’s picture book, The Very Lonely Firefly. I had a copy for my kids, battery included to light up firefly illustrations. And, until it stopped working, I had a solar-powered firefly garden sculpture honoring my nephew Justin, who loved light and fireflies and died at age 19 in 2001 of Hodgkins disease.
Often what we love is about much more than simply whatever we love. I see, in writing this story, that my love of milkweeds, monarchs and fireflies connects to memories. Summer memories. Farm memories. Family memories. These are the stories we carry within us, that help define who we are, whether we consider a milkweed to be a weed, or a flower.
TELL ME: What simple summer things delight you and why?
© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
Funny how our perspective changes on things when we have a different experience with something. I am not a fan of caterpillars but I do love what they usually turn into.
You’re right. Perspectives change.
I love the simple things, and my eldest daughter has become an important part of our county native plant initiative and has taught me about the plants and their importance. I’ve planted some in my own gardens with her help which has led to my condo association replacing some our communal spaces with these plants (I’m on the board and we’ve worked on educating our fellow owners and residents), and it continues to grow. it’s lovely to see a return of the fireflies and butterflies and pollinators, slowly but surely and as our understanding grows, so does our environment. and I find it all so beautiful. we’ve taken back our space with caring and vigilance. thank you for this beautiful post, I’m so glad you share this appreciation and I can imagine it must be especially poignant for you having grown up in a farming community.
Kudos to you and your daughter for your efforts with native plants.
After moving to Texas, I was sitting on the back porch enjoying the approaching evening and started to notice the fireflies flitting about! I had not seen any since I was a child! I was almost as awestruck then as I was when I was young. That’s a favorite memory of childhood. Lovely post, Audrey. ❤
I’m glad I brought back such a wonderful memory for you, Penny.
These things happen – unrelated but are also linked. I spotted a Horny Toad (what ever species this critter is) which is down in around Lubbock, I was surprised to see “him” as I had not seen any in years. My brother pointed out that they eat ants, And ants there were! A couple of years back, at my wife’s parent’s house, one night there were hundred of fireflies out in the evening and butterflies cross my vision every Spring. Each scene is a joy to behold.
Thank you for sharing your joy, Gunny.
I am very fond of fireflies! 😉
Yeah. They are magical, aren’t they?
And I like the little boy and firefly jar garden decor!
My sister-in-law (Justin’s mom) had this are in Justin’s Memorial Garden. Then I got it because I loved it so much. Then my sister did and so did a friend. This garden art was difficult to find.
A weed is simply a plant that is growing where it is not desired. Like all farmers, your Dad certainly knew a weed when he saw one!
I have had plenty of experience with some very nice flowers that met the definition of a weed. There were, of course, many variables that played into whether or not they remained. You’ll be happy to know that the milkweeds that popped up in our lawn were allowed to remain. Having less grass to mow and more monarchs around made it an easy choice!
You are accurate in your definition of a weed. Yeah, happy to hear of the milkweeds in your yard!
I remember great flocks of Monarchs along the mostly unused train tracks near our house in east central Illinois growing up. Here on the coast there is more milk week being grown I think, but so far Monarchs still seem rare, and I have yet to see one this year. Lightening bugs which were dense back then are simply not present. It feels to me very much the hearache of a lost loved one.
Come to Minnesota! Come to see the monarchs and fireflies and, oh, so much more. 🙂
Oh exactly this Audrey, “Often what we love is about much more than simply whatever we love.” !! I get in ‘trouble’ for ‘loving’ too many things. But it’s not the ‘thing’ I love. It’s the memories, the moments, the way the ‘thing’ captures my head and heart in such a way, that I can’t help but Love it. I’m delighted by the star-studded skies on warm summer nights. And the beautiful bursts of color from every flower/weed I see on a sunny day. There’s so much to love about summer.
Rose, I can read the summer joy in your words. Thank you for sharing how much you love a starry summer sky and the color bursts of flowers/weeds.