Now He's J
Slipping Out of His Old Self
My kitchen caterpillars are now all chrysalises - four of them. Because of them, I have been spending a lot of time in the kitchen, not wanting to miss their moments of transformation - and it does happen quickly. Annie Dillard wrote: "Beauty and grace are performed whether or not we will sense them. The least we can do is try to be there." Well, I have been trying to be there for these particular moments of grace. The one pictured here managed to wiggle and sway and squirm his way out of his old skin, sloughed it right off, and then, sadly, fell to the bottom of the container. This part of the transformation is always the scariest. Their lives are so tenuous - attached to the future by such a thin thread. Most of them do not fall, but when they do, it is worth an attempted rescue. I tied a thread to his stem and taped the thread to the lid, hoping to give him just a little hope. Now he is suspended again, but, I think, a little damaged. The other three are just fine. Amazing wonders are happening inside their little green shells. I always imagine the light inside to be very green.
I am already more than a week into my summer holidays and just beginning to settle into this greenest of seasons - so glad to be at home with my windows and my light. I am just learning how to post these blogs, spending too much time in front of my computer, not enough time with the sky. The morning began with thunder - an hour of pouring rain and thunder!! Long after sunrise, the sky was still dark and ominous, but then suddenly the sun broke through. I put on my garden shoes, grabbed my camera, and went out to the flowers . . .
One side of my yard is lined with leafy peonies - the grandmother of all flowers - pink, white, deep, deep red. I have been deadheading the flowers all week long, but this one, just opening, survived the storm. I have lived in my house for nearly twenty years; these peonies were here long before I moved in and with any luck will be here long after I am gone.