Word on the street was that Lewis Ginter Botanical Garden was just littered with millions of exotic butterflies. My own mother -- apparently, a connoisseur of butterfly gardens (Right? Who knew?) -- was not impressed, but Nikole and Thea and I charged ahead anyway, carving a slice of our Sunday afternoon out to hang with the Malachite and Blue Morpho.
Somewhere between the hype and my mother's experience lies reality.
There were not hordes of butterflies, but there were about a hundred more than you'd ever see in our backyard. Better looking, too.
Oddly enough, despite the headline of this post, I downloaded very few of the photos of butterflies -- with or without Thea engaged in mortal combat with them -- that were on Nikole's camera. Just the one that leads things off, actually. And you have to really hunt for the butterflies in that one. (There are three of them, seek-and-find groupies.)
After sweating almost to our deaths in the butterfly sweatbox, we rolled down to the children's area so that Thea could regret not packing his swim gear.