As a child, I loved visiting the Frederik Meijer Gardens & Sculpture Park in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Every spring, we’d visit their Lena Meijer Topical Conservatory. Imagine stepping from a chilly spring day into a humid dome where hundreds of wings flicker. It was like stepping into another world.

I remember chasing the Blue Morphos, these enormous, iridescent creatures whose wings flashed like mirrors. They’d vanish into foliage only to reappear in another corner, as if playing hide and seek. Every glimpse carried a quiet challenge to pay attention, notice beauty, and stay curious.

That childlike awe never left. Years later, it became fuel for my creative work at Statement Species, but more deeply, it taught me how wonder leads to both art and science.

Microscopic Photography

My father, a retired Earth Science teacher, filled our home with fossils, rocks, and yes, butterfly collections. So when I wanted to move beyond admiration into study, I borrowed one of his specimens and placed it under a microscope.

What I found amazed me. A butterfly wing is actually built from thousands upon thousands of flat, overlapping scales. Some contain pigments, others act like prisms bending light into shimmering blues and greens. The flash of a Morpho’s wing? Light physics!

And those bold spots near the edges of their wings? (Scroll up to see the Blue Morpho butterfly again). They’re not just decorative. They function like decoys, luring predators toward expendable edges instead of vital organs. A bird may tear a wing, but the butterfly often escapes.

It was the perfect reminder that science and art are not separate realms but mirrors of one another. The closer we look, the more beauty we find, and the more meaning behind that beauty.

Designing

Curiosity alone could have kept me happily buried in microscopes and sketchbooks. But eventually, I wondered if these discoveries could take another form. Could I translate science into something tactile, something wearable?

I began photographing butterflies from my dad’s collection and redrawing them digitally. The silhouettes turned out bold and graphic, like stamps or emblems. From there came the slow art of pattern-making.

I traced microscopic scales, made kaleidoscopic-like patterns, and tinted them with Monarch orange, Swallowtail yellow, and Blue Morpho. Then, I had them printed on scarves. It was a unique blend of science and fashion.

The Other Side of Beauty: Conservation

Butterflies aren’t just decorative, they are pollinators, food sources, and fragile indicators of ecosystem health. When their numbers fall, it signals deeper problems in the environment.

Here’s a glimpse of some species at risk:

Threatened (at risk but not yet endangered):

• Dakota Skipper

• Hermes Copper

• Monarch (proposed for listing as threatened)

• Baltimore Checkerspot (threatened within Maryland, and one I featured in my work)

Endangered butterflies:

• Mission Blue

• Palos Verdes Blue

• Saint Francis’ Satyr

Endangered moths:

• Bog Buck Moth

• Blackburn’s Sphinx Moth

The list is sobering. Habitat loss, pesticides, invasive species, climate change, and even light pollution all play a role.

And yet, there is hope. Because these creatures are so sensitive, even small efforts can ripple outward. The following can have an impact:

• Planting native flowers.

• Growing host plants like milkweed for Monarchs.

• Avoiding pesticides.

• Leaving a corner of your yard wild with leaf litter, logs, or tall grasses where larvae can grow and pupate.

Butterflies remind us that beauty and fragility are inseparable. Caring for them isn’t just an act of conservation, it’s a way of protecting wonder itself.

Wonder as a Compass

For me, butterflies began as fascination, then became art, then deepened into conservation. For you, they might inspire a new garden, a sketchbook, a field journal, or simply to pause to notice what’s fluttering past.

How do you respond to the wonder in your life?

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🦋If you want to see the fashion side of things, you can view the Butterfly + Moth Clothing Collection over at Statement Species.

With the help of a bucket, my family and I hauled in quite the collection:

After getting home, I contemplated what to do with all of them. They were too pretty to stay in a bucket but too large to display inside.

This one in particular absolutely needed a home:

I decided an outdoor rock garden would work best. This is the design I came up with:

These rocks look like they belong in a science museum’s display case, which makes them quite different from what you’d normally see outside a front porch. Over time, I hope to keep adding more!

And did I mention, the upkeep is way easier than a flower bed? No watering or weeding needed. If fact, I think some of these rocks will look even more interesting as they weather.

So there you have it.

Which would you choose? Rocks or flowers?

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(Just a heads up: If you use my Amazon links, I might earn a commission — at no extra cost to you.)

I’m 37 years old, with no biology degree, no lab coat, and no real reason to own a microscope… and yet, I bought one. And it’s awesome.

After a few months of using it, I’m baffled that more people don’t own these. Or at least want to.

If you want a quick dopamine hit, put your phone down and put a bug under a microscope. See pollen on a flower at 100x. Watch water bubbles float around in a flower petal.

I’m not sure when curiosity started requiring a degree. Or when microscopes got locked away in schools and labs. But trust me, they’re way more accessible than you think.

Mine was from Amazon for $240 — not the $2,000 I assumed when I first looked. And yes, that’s still not cheap. But it’s interesting that for many of us, the barrier isn’t just cost — it’s that we never even thought about owning one.

Is it hard to use? Not really. I find it more intuitive than turning on our outdoor grill. Plus, it can’t singe your eyebrows.

I keep mine in my office, away from my kids (if I can’t trust them with play dough, they’re not getting near precision optics). But one day, I’ll put it somewhere they can use it. Imagine them bringing in nature finds to examine. Or me saying to guests at a dinner party, “Oh, that’s our communal microscope. Want to see your fingernail up close?” … Okay, that sounded creepier than intended. But you get the idea.

Before you write this off, take a look at some of the images I’ve taken.

Would you get a microscope?

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About WonderLark

Your permission slip to wonder.

Hi, I’m Kate — a wife, mom of three, and wannabe biologist living in Michigan.

As a kid, I dreamed of becoming a marine biologist—until my fear of seaweed and sharks got in the way. Still, I never lost my fascination with the natural world: butterflies, tropical fish, bright birds, weird plants.

For years, I thought I’d missed my chance. I wasn’t going back to school. I didn’t have a lab coat. But eventually, I stopped daydreaming and started discovering.

WonderLark is me making up for lost time — a DIY expedition into scientific wonder. I’m building my own offbeat, self-guided curriculum in zoology, marine biology, botany, nature art, and more—without the tuition, tests, or Bio 101 prerequisites.

From monarchs to microscopes (yes, I bought one), birding to bioluminescence, coral propagation to cyanotypes—I’m diving headfirst into the hobbies and passions I once felt too old, too busy, or too normal to try.

View My Wonder Wishlist Here

This newsletter documents the journey — and invites you to join in it with me. Because if a seaweed-averse, indoor-cat like me can do it, so can you.

No lab coat required.
Just a sense of wonder.

Wild Regards,

Kate

About Statement Species

WonderLark is the official newsletter of Statement Species — my clothing brand inspired by real species and designed to spark conversation (and conservation) through fashion.

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