There have not been many Monarch butterflies about this year so far, and I did a spirited, wobbly dance a day or two ago when a single glorious specimen flew past my freckled nose and alighted in a clump of purple echinacea nearby - in my excitement, I almost forgot to capture a photo.
A few minutes later, a single cicada started to broadcast its call for a mate from somewhere high in the trees, then came another and another and another. Again and again, the unseen tymbal muscles contracted and relaxed, the sonorous vibrations resulting in what is, to me anyway, summer's most resonant and engaging musical score. Time stood still as Beau and I stopped and listened to that poignant and hopeful chorus for a while.
There are moments one remembers in the depths of winter, and this was one of those moments. How wonderful it was (in the original sense of that word) to listen to annual cicadas rasp and chirr their ardent mating ballads in the trees over our heads, to watch a small joyous wonder flutter and swoop through the garden on stained glass wings. Life simply doesn't get any better than this, and it doesn't get any wilder either. For a moment I wished my soulmate was here to watch the Monarch's flight with us, then I knew beyond all doubt that he is here with us, and that he could see it. The three of us, together as always.
4 comments:
🧡☀️🌻
And maybe he was the butterfly :) Come to show you that he is free...
Stunning photo as always.
Guy
Yes, I see what you mean. I know that feeling, although I’m then thinking of my dad with whom I can share these special moments. Or on the phone with my mum who is still alive..... Not everybody can have these feelings and that deep gratitude towards life.
Plus, your captures here are wonder-full!
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