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Monday, September 13, 2010

On the Fringe of Fall

It's in the air, no doubt about it. There are leaves turning, and the last of our tomatoes ripening ruby red. Butterflies are a flurry; they seem to be frantic, and are not afraid to flyin one's face. But, I don't mind. After all, they are monarchs. Saved a very small yellow butterfly, with orange markings and black spots. I'm reminded of the black spider with a yellow spot we spied building her web on our school's fence. We were seven, and my friend Sharon and I named her Charlotte, and watched her everyday. I used to keep pet caterpillars and grasshoppers then, but only for a day. I made lovley glass houses for them, lined in leaves, with a twig to rest on, and little pillboxes of water for them to drink, if drink they did. I also kept holes in the lids, so they could breathe. Then, after a few hours, I let them go, carefully, where no one would squash them or bother them.

I get more and more squeamish and reluctant to step on insects, or to kill them. Pests they may be, I know, but they are miraculous little animals all the same. And, they are beautiful, and their lives are short enough without me blundering on them. Maybe we should all read/reread Charlotte's Web and watch A Bug's Life!

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