My Chance To See Wonders
Once, while I lived in a mobile home park, I left a plastic measuring cup on the porch. I’d taken it out to water a pot of flowers.
Some days after that, it rained overnight. When I went out onto the porch to empty the collected water, I saw something green inside the curve of the handle. Only after I’d picked it up, did I realize that the green was a chrysalis, and that this newly-emerged Pink-edged Sulphur was riding on my index finger.
Because I’d hosted a Monarch earlier in the same summer, I knew there was a good chance this little fellow wouldn’t fly away immediately. I settled him on the potted chrysanthemum, and did get this shot before I had to leave.
Writers of science fiction occasionally assign social insects a hive mind, but I know this butterfly’s compound eyes were processing information in a different way than it did as a caterpillar. Now it was aware of ultraviolet light, and would use that vision to locate the nectar of flowers.
It changed, could I?
For the rest of that day, I was alert, waiting to see something else differently, for my chance to see wonders. I’m not always good at maintaining that anticipation. Maybe you find it easier.
My butterfly reference book says: “For a century the Pink-edged Sulphur has been better known than some of the other northern sulphurs may ever be. Certain other Colias have pink fringes, but one or more other marks usually distinguish them; none is edged with such a rich rose when fresh.”
How often do we short-change ourselves by being oblivious to the commonplace? What do you to combat it? I’d like to hear about your solutions.
He’s poised, ready to go off and fill his life by doing what he was created to do. Today, I’m going to imitate the butterfly. Will you?
Meshea
Heidi Dru Kortman