Growing up in the Shenandoah Valley, livestock pastures peppered the landscape. Black and red Angus, and Holstein to supply the dairies, were commonplace. Spring and early summer sprouted lush green fescue and stands of various weeds unbeknownst to me at the time, save for the patches of flowering thistle and milkweed, head-high to a 5 year old.
Back when youths were allowed to roam free, I would stroll across the county road and explore the neighborâs pasture toting an empty Mason jar. I was fascinated with all things wild, to include the brilliant variety of butterflies and moths that frequented the fuchsia thistle blooms.