It’s another day
Goal achieved.
I enjoy going places and seeing things. That was part of the reason I went out onto the deck of our home, but the primary reason was to fill the birdbath with water. I do that faithfully.
Before I could pour any water, a northern house wren, a tiny bird whose name is bigger than it is, yelled at me. I don’t believe he was shouting encouragement. His nest box was near the deck, and he had sized me up as an unsavory character. He had a mouth on him. His harsh, chattering scold was loud and constant, which was an amazing feat, as he had a large green caterpillar in his bill. It was Purina Wren Chow being delivered to his nestlings.
Despite the wren, I stood on the deck filling the bird water park. It was a mere birdbath until I went all uppity.
On that warm August day, a painted lady butterfly, as big as a minute, landed on my bare foot, obviously attracted by its flowery aroma. It was a social butterfly. It had seen many things in its brief life, but nothing like my foot.
Why was I barefoot? My bowling shoes were in the wash.
I was pleased to have a butterfly on my big toe. I wouldn’t have been pleased to have a bear with an impacted tooth or a bison with a hoof cramp perched on my big toe, but a butterfly was all good.
The painted lady butterfly, Vanessa cardui to its close friends, has the widest global distribution of any butterfly species. Its scientific name, Vanessa cardui, means butterfly of thistle. When I was a precocious little boy, I called the insect a thistle butterfly because the thistle was a food preference of its caterpillar.
I had a painted lady butterfly on my big toe. The left one had become a gaudy spectacle. Cool beans!
I remained motionless for the longest time, waiting for the butterfly to leave. I didn’t have my phone with me, or I’d have taken a selfie of my foot with a butterfly on it. I hoped it would check out my other big toe.
Photo by Al Batt
I didn’t want to walk away and disturb the butterfly in its repose. Who knows what kind of day it had been having? It needed a break.
It wasn’t whale watching, but I felt honored by the butterfly’s company. And it’s not like a facial tissue feels honored. It was the good kind of honored.
I’m a deep thinker. One of those deep thinkers who stays in the shallow end.
During a deep thought, I determined you can’t spell fun without one of the letters in foot. Now that’s deep.
I had important things to do. Vital chores. Things like shaking crumbs out of a toaster.
Those crumbs don’t shake themselves.
A butterfly has been called a flying flower. A day can give you flowers in many ways.
The lovely painted lady was a philosophy class on my big toe. I took a philosophy class once. All I remember about it was that I spent most of my time wondering why I was taking a philosophy class.
We hurry around. It’s difficult to slow down. Each time I travel a freeway, I’m reminded that speeding tickets haven’t slowed drivers.
To find yourself, you must lose yourself. Somebody said that before the invention of the GPS. I’ll bet it was someone with a butterfly on their big toe – the left one.
The butterfly was a reminder to slow down and appreciate the present. It was a lesson in mindfulness.
Yogi Berra said, “You can see a lot just by looking.”
I’m going to spend more time pondering my big toes.
Take a good look at your big toe. It doesn’t matter which big toe it is. If you have two or three of them, pick one. You never know what you might see.
Could I sense the butterfly on my big toe? It wasn’t wearing steel-toe work boots, but I did feel it. I’d had recent heart surgery. I felt that butterfly’s presence in my repaired ticker. That was a wonderful thing.
The Grinch’s small heart grew three sizes that day.
My wife must have texted him.
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