Members get free shipping: sign in.

Added to Cart

@{ item.variant_title }

@{ currencyStyle(item.original_price) } @{ currencyStyle(item.discounted_price) }

x@{ item.quantity }

Less than 15 prints available

Framed prints are not eligible for local pickup

The chosen variant is sold out. Please choose another variant.

You have unsaved changes. Are you sure you want to exit?

Members get free shipping: sign in.

Your shopping cart is empty


Something went wrong, please reload the page

@{ discount.discount_application.title }

- @{ currencyStyle(discount.amount) }

@{ discount.title }

- @{ currencyStyle(discount.total_allocated_amount) }

Shipping calculated at checkout
@{ currencyStyle(final_price) }
@{ currencyStyle(final_price) }
Shipping calculated at checkout

Shop our favorite print sets.


BUTTERFLY RANGER limited edition paper print


BUTTERFLY RANGER limited edition paper print


Unframed prints ship in 1-3 days. Please allow 4 weeks for fulfillment of framed prints + transit time from the framer's facility.

Ask a Question


Archival reproduction of original Butterfly Ranger paper collage artwork featuring park ranger woman with binoculars wearing her favorite butterfly jacket.

  • Medium: a giclée or archival pigment print on acid-free matte paper
  • Unframed Paper Sizes:
    • 16 x 20: 15" x 19" (image) | 16" x 20" (paper); hand-signed & numbered edition of 200
    • 24 x 30: 22" x 28" (image) | 24" x 30" (paper); digitally signed & numbered edition of 100
    • 32 x 40: 30" x 38" (image) | 32" x 40" (paper); digitally signed & numbered edition of 200
  • Large-scale canvas print reproductions available upon request.

Standard Framing Materials

Each print is custom framed, by hand, using frames produced domestically here in the USA. Standard framing includes the following:

  • Wood Gallery Frame in black, natural, or dark walnut
  • UV-shielding Plexiglas | protects from 82%-85% of UV rays and 92% of light transmission
  • 3" acid-free white mat with bevel edge (2.5" for 11 x 14 prints)
  • Archival acid-free foam core backing (small prints are hinge mounted; large prints are dry mounted)
  • Hanging hardware + nails

Please allow 4 weeks plus transit time for fulfilment of framed print orders.

See complete Framed Print Details here.

The Story

She placed the cold metallic binocular rings to her cheeks and let her eyes slowly adjust to the lenses. The metal was cold because the air was cold outside, and the binoculars had laid where she had left them last night, on the hood of her truck, as she snuck down to the creek to wash off the trail dust. She had slept there, creekside, and awakened before dawn, dew covered and alert, ready to continue her work on the trails and paths of the park. The sound she heard which eased her awake wasn’t so much a humming or even a flapping, but a soft flutter, as if a novel had been sitting on a table by an open window, its cover open, and its pages flapping listlessly when the breeze picked up and darted through the room. As she inched back toward the truck, away from the creek, the sound seemed to undulate on the wind, and as she kept her head turned in that direction she glided by the truck, absently grabbing the binoculars as she went. She pulled on her coat and waited for the warming light of dawn to paint the sky in oranges and pinks and illuminate her surroundings. What was that sound. She continued to affix her eyes to the sky, and there, suddenly, small dots began to appear. At first they were a fuzzy sprinkling of dots, like pepper on a pale plate. Then, they grew, and soon, became a swarm, a soft origami hurricane with rounded edges and moving in brilliant candy colored chaos. The butterflies and moths filled the sky like leaves on a fall wind and moved just as quickly. They made their way in a multicolored migration to her, over her, through her, and as she stood and laughed she made sure to cover her mouth so they wouldn’t fly in. She closed her eyes now, and the sound was everything, everywhere, the soft flapping of one million of mother natures eyelashes, the delicate butterfly ballet. They rushed past in a giant swarm of tiny wings and tiny legs and tiny tickling antennae. And then, as quickly as it started, the sound disappeared. She opened her eyes. She saw no butterflies, no moths; heard no sounds, save the rippling of the creek below and the dripping of the dew from the trucks bumper. She glanced around and wondered if it was just a dream. Then, looking down, a ray of light caught a fold in her jacket and illuminated the soft outline of a lepidopteran form. This was no decal, no embroidred applique. The butterfly shapes were woven into the cloth. She ran her fingers over the silken insects, seeming to glisten and glow in the now broken daylight. Turning back to her truck, she smiled to herself, placed her binoculars on the seat, and somewhat perplexed and bemused, she giggled as she placed her hat on her head and started the engine.