The Message Of The Butterfly.

The weather is perfect right now. The high today hovered around 72 and there was a pretty good breeze kicking up. The project is nearly complete, the bridge part of it is complete, and now I have a few spare moments to enjoy being outside without all manner of Hell breaking loose everywhere at one time.

 It’s spooky weird to be out on a bridge project that’s winding down. Where there was once solid two dozen men working, along with various machinery and power tools and dust and noise now there is only the wind. I celebrated my last birthday on this project and I’ll turn another year older before it’s done here. I’ve now been through two months of wildfire, one tropical storm, two months of triple digit heat and one retired employee on this project. Oh, yeah, and we took time to build a bridge, too.

 Being outside in nice weather is glorious. To have things slow down in nice weather is damn near unheard of. But here I am, at the end of October, in weather so good it makes me pant, and I can actually walk around a bit without having to worry about something going to hell on me.

 I feel down right decadent.

 One of the things I see that most people do not is the Death of seasons, and the Death of those things that each season holds true only to herself. Spring brings new growth and new flowers and they pass with the Summer. Summer brings an explosion of leaves and late flowers and they pass too. Autumn brings the wildflowers that pop up everywhere, but it’s the time of year life begins to run out. The sun hides more, and so there is less photosynthesis. Less plant life means less insect life, less pollen, less everything alive. October sees a lot of the cycles of life come to a pause before Spring kicks in again.

 I found a butterfly today, and this isn’t the first one I’ve ever found like this. It’s too weak to fly, and waiting for some predator, or cooler weather, to finish it off. It tries to fly away from me, and then it tries to run. I tried to save a butterfly once but it rather die then be caged and so it did. Most of those I find look haggard and worn, but this one still looks beautiful. It flutters about then lies still so I can eat it, kill it, or take a picture or two.

Don’t be sad for the butterfly.

Fate has brought this being into your life for a reason. In its own unique and beautiful way, this tiny creature reaches out past Death and bids you to smile, and to be happy for the life it was given, ever how short, and it bids you to take that slightly less short time that you have been given, and be happy with it.

What the caterpillar calls the end of life, the butterfly calls the beginning of everything. What you may call the end of the butterfly, may be a beginning that you cannot yet imagine.

Take Care,

Mike