How to Attract Butterflies with Regional Plant Choices

Dear friend,

I don’t know about you, but I’ll never forget the first time I watched a monarch butterfly emerge from its chrysalis. It was late May—just about this time of year—and I’d planted milkweed by the vegetable patch on a whim. I wasn’t sure what I was doing, only that I’d heard it might help monarchs. The patch looked a little scraggly at first, truth be told, and I remember second-guessing myself more than once. But then one morning, I spotted it: a jade-green chrysalis dangling beneath a leaf, flecked with tiny specks of gold that shimmered in the sunlight like jewelry.

A week or so later, I noticed that the green had faded to near transparency. You could see the curled wings inside, like folded parchment. And then it happened—slowly, quietly. The chrysalis split open, and out came this brilliant orange-and-black butterfly. I watched it hang there, still and vulnerable, slowly pumping fluid into its wings as they unfurled and dried in the sun.

I felt like I had witnessed a kind of quiet magic—one that no screen or photograph could ever truly capture. And that’s when it clicked for me: gardening isn’t just about flowers and vegetables and tidy rows. It’s about participation. It’s about creating spaces where transformation can unfold.

Butterflies might look delicate, but don’t be fooled—they lead adventurous lives. From tiny pinhead-sized eggs to ravenous caterpillars to the miracle of metamorphosis, their journey is nothing short of epic. And the best part? You can invite that entire life cycle into your own yard, your patio, even your balcony—just by choosing the right plants.

Now, if you’ve spent any time reading about butterfly gardening, you’ve probably heard about host plants and nectar plants. Host plants are where butterflies lay their eggs—and where their caterpillars hatch and feed. Nectar plants, on the other hand, are the blossoms the adult butterflies visit for sweet sustenance. You need both to complete the circle.

Let’s start with the most famous example: the monarch. Monarchs are beautiful, yes, but they’re also in trouble—populations have declined significantly over the past few decades due to habitat loss, pesticide use, and a changing climate. But they still come through our region during migration, and we can help by planting milkweed, their only host plant.

There are several kinds of milkweed that grow well in our Southern climate. Asclepias tuberosa, or butterfly weed, is a favorite—those vivid orange flowers are a beacon for all kinds of pollinators. Asclepias incarnata, or swamp milkweed, loves moist areas and produces soft pink blooms. And then there’s common milkweed (Asclepias syriaca), a tall, slightly unruly cousin that monarchs adore.

When you grow milkweed, you have to let go of perfection. Caterpillars will chew holes in the leaves. The plant might get a little wild. But oh, the reward of seeing those striped monarch caterpillars fattening up before they wander off to pupate—it’s worth every nibbled leaf.

And monarchs aren’t the only butterflies with specific host plant needs. Black swallowtails lay their eggs on plants in the carrot family—think parsley, dill, fennel, and Queen Anne’s lace. I like to plant extra dill and parsley in my herb beds just for them. Some years, I don’t even get to harvest any for myself—but I don’t mind a bit when I see those fat green caterpillars lined up like beads on a stem.

Spicebush swallowtails are another regional favorite. As their name suggests, they rely on native spicebush (Lindera benzoin) or sassafras. I’ve got a few spicebushes growing in a shady edge of the yard, and every so often I spot the telltale “eyes” of a young spicebush caterpillar peeking out from a curled leaf. They’re among the most whimsical creatures in the garden, looking more like storybook characters than real insects.

Of course, the adult butterflies need nectar—and lots of it. Fortunately, many of our best native perennials are also butterfly magnets. Purple coneflower (Echinacea purpurea), bee balm (Monarda), joe-pye weed (Eutrochium purpureum), and ironweed (Vernonia) are some of the best. They offer high nectar content, long bloom periods, and plenty of landing room for tired butterflies.

Time your plantings so there’s something in bloom throughout the entire growing season. Early spring is when those overwintered butterflies start to stir—and they’ll need early-blooming nectar sources like wild columbine, golden ragwort, and native phlox. By midsummer, fill the garden with coneflowers, milkweed, and mountain mint. Then come fall, lean on goldenrod and asters to keep the buffet open as long as possible.

One trick I’ve learned: plant in clusters. Big, bold drifts of the same flower are easier for butterflies to spot from a distance. They’re also more efficient for feeding—imagine flying from bloom to bloom across a sea of blossoms, rather than darting around to find single scattered flowers.

And don’t forget about water. Butterflies drink from nectar, yes—but they also “puddle,” especially the males. Puddling is when they gather around moist soil or shallow mud to drink and absorb minerals. You can mimic this in your garden with a simple dish filled with wet sand and a pinch of sea salt or wood ash. Keep it shallow and easy to access—no standing water, just enough moisture for them to dip their proboscis into the minerals.

Now, I know it can be tempting to treat every hole in a leaf as a crisis. But the truth is, if you want butterflies, you have to accept caterpillars—and caterpillars eat leaves. It’s part of the deal. When I see chewed-up fennel or milkweed, I try to reframe it as a promise of what’s to come.

Skip the pesticides, even the organic ones, when it comes to butterfly gardens. Many “safe” sprays still harm caterpillars or beneficial insects. Let nature do the balancing work. Ladybugs, parasitic wasps, birds, and even garden toads will often help manage pest populations naturally. And a few blemishes on your leaves are a small price to pay for a flutter of wings and a bit of transformation unfolding right before your eyes.

I’ve found that once people start planting for butterflies, they fall headfirst into a new way of seeing the garden. You begin to notice the little things—the soft hum of wings, the tiny eggs on the undersides of leaves, the subtle movement of a chrysalis in the wind. You begin to recognize patterns: when the black swallowtails show up, when the monarchs pass through, when the skippers dance around the zinnias.

Your garden becomes more than a pretty space—it becomes a habitat. A refuge. A place where cycles complete themselves and beauty emerges from change.

Even if you only have a small patio, you can still join in. A big pot of milkweed, a few sprigs of dill in a window box, a hanging basket of lantana or verbena—these all become little stations on the butterfly highway. Your small gesture might be the one that carries a monarch one step closer to its migratory goal.

And once you begin, the possibilities keep expanding. You might start noticing the night moths, the fireflies, the native bees. You might begin to think differently about your lawn, about pesticides, about what a garden is really for. You might even begin to see yourself not as a gardener decorating a plot of land—but as a steward, part of something older and wiser and more wondrous than you’d ever imagined.

So as you step into the garden this week, take a moment to look with butterfly eyes. Think about what they need—shelter, food, water, and space to grow. Add a few more native perennials. Let that milkweed stand tall and untamed. Embrace the small caterpillar nibbles. Watch closely. Witness the transformation.

There’s something profoundly hopeful about butterfly gardening. In a world that often feels chaotic and uncertain, planting for butterflies is an act of faith. It’s a way of saying, “I believe in change. I believe in small miracles.”

May your garden be filled with wings and wonder this season.

Yours in quiet awe,
Logan

P.S. If you’d like to create a butterfly habitat in your yard—no matter how small—we’d be delighted to help. Visit Unicorn Farm Nursery & Landscaping to schedule a consultation. Let’s design a garden that feeds the soul—and the pollinators.