“Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly.”
Seeing this beauty in my garden yesterday gave me hope and renewed faith in humanity.
The Black Lives Matter movement is changing inhumane practices and moving people to action in many ways.
We’re experiencing the biggest Bike Boom since I came of age in the 1970s.
We’re starting to create a way forward through our global pandemic (although it’s premature to be too hopeful there as the USA deaths are predicted to double this summer and are increasing in some other countries, but vaccines are being tested and social-distancing methods are being added everywhere).
And, personally, after a 98% reduction in pollinators the past five years (which seems to coincide with neighbors spraying for mosquitoes), there are butterflies now on my homestead and the night sky is filled with lighting bugs (fireflies) again. I’ve planted galore since my Peace Corps departure for Uganda was delayed from last week to this upcoming September, and most of my summer crops depend on pollinators. So the sight of this butterfly matters.
My favorite book growing up was titled Hope for the Flowers, by Trina Paulus. It told the story of two butterflies and their quest for meaning in life. I used to reread the story and draw the illustrations for hours. I still have the book. I think maybe I’ll sit in my side garden today and re-read it. I have time — I heard from the Peace Corps yesterday, and my departure has now been tentatively rescheduled for . . . August 2021.
I continue to have hope for all of us.