Back in March, we had a guest staying up in one of the converted sheds. We’d have discussions about stinging nettle and how it came in with some cheap cow hay I bought years ago and never left, and how grateful I was for the horses keeping it at bay. Now that the pasture is empty, the nettle has taken TF over. You can’t go out there without pants and long sleeves, it’s so terrible. 

The leaves and upper stems have barbed stingers that get stuck in our skin, and even lightly brushing against the plant can turn your skin on fire, as if a million fire ants have bit at once. I’ve built up a tolerance (and some minor neuropathy made it so the sting wasn’t so bad on my feet), but I hate it with a passion and had plans to burn it to the ground. She, however, was dead-set on harvesting it and using it for homeopathic tinctures and even cooking it for dinner.

So when I came across one of our early butterfly visitors, a Red Admiral, I had to tell her to hold off on harvesting too much of the nettle. See, stinging nettle is a host plant for Red Admirals. They love it as much as I hate it. The nettle mostly grows in the fall and winter, when the sun isn’t too strong and there’s a chill in the air. 

I’m writing this update in May, when the weather has changed. Thankfully the stinging nettle has wilted away, but sadly that means no more Red Admirals until later this year.