No Special Occasion Day at my house.
LV rang my doorbell and, when I greeted her, pointed to an old metal watering can. "Look," she said.
Puzzled, I did.
"See?" she asked.
Oh my . . . caterpillars at least five of them. Monarchs!
She turned to leave and said, "Keep it and see what happens."
Now that's a true friend indeed.
Today, butterflies flapped everywhere I looked: a Gulf Fritillary flung herself, flopping and flapping, at vines and leaves along one eight-foot stretch of a Lake Cheston path, beginning near the Passion Flowers where she may have emerged; on the beach a half-dozen American Snouts circled my hat like a landing strip and sucked sweat from my hand, while below me a single female Monarch butterfly puddled, seeking moisture from warm sand; two Eastern Tiger Swallowtails spun round J's zinnias, while this single Pipevine Swallowtail supped and sucked at the Cardinal Flowers overhanging J's pond.
A fever ran through them all.
