This morning I slept late, not like me, but for a moment it was just a joy to wake up, look at the clock, and then turn over and go back to sleep. When I finally roused myself I let the dogs out and we all went out to the patio. Through my sleepy eyes I noticed a flash of black on the fennel, a sure sign that a butterfly had hatched that morning (the second one to hatch to my knowledge and the second one I have missed this year), still busily pumping blood from her abdomen into her wings she was hanging on to the fennel for dear life.



I watched her for a while, as she caught her breath, and just gloried in the fact that she had wings, and I smiled, until off she went, on her new wings, and took a little bit of me with her. I just so love being me sometimes, in the moments when the things I have done result in something like this, in a moment, when a butterfly comes into being because of something that I did, when a butterfly flies off with my stamp on it, goes into the world and for whatever brief moment beautifies it, I just so love being me. I can't change the world, but I can change it one butterfly at a time. Damn, it is good to be me.