In March 2008, scientists revealed that moths and butterflies remember their lives as a caterpillar, even after being turned into stew in a cocoon, and transformed into another animal.
I reflected upon this miracle, this marvel of development and memory, and I wondered how long the butterfly took to reconcile its hardships in childhood.
I contemplated the harrowing existential crisis that must have ensued while liquefying then sloshing around in the dark cocoon, how much worry the creature must have suffered hoping his antennae arrived on the top of his head, that his wings would unfold properly, that he would emerge as the Red Admiral he was told he would be and not as, say, a Tiger Swallowtail, or, worse, a gnat. Then I wondered if the batter-that-would-be-butterfly worried at all, or if it took that time in its quiet transition to prepare for its short and spectacular life on earth.
This contemplation led me to a natural conclusion, which is that it is time for me to step away from this era of the blog and clean up these first 50+ entries for my personal files. This blog space has been my cocoon of sorts as I left Wilmington and emerged in my new life in Florida, and I am very grateful for all of you who have been reading. But, it is time to move on and be this new wild thing.
In the next few days, I’ll be removing the old blogs for good to create some essays and poetry and other work for publication. But, I will return with new blogs as soon as I can, and you can look forward to the launch of a new nature writing blog. So, read ’em while I got ’em.
This time I mean it: night, night beloveds. I love you.