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Stardate: 20190317.22h23
Last modified: 20190318.15h26 - see update below.
Location: Home Office
Input Device: AlphaSmart dana.wireless + Raspberry Pi 2
Software: nano
Audio: anonradio.net
Visual: Flickering chumby playing anonradio.net, misc desk
clutter, USB Himalayan Salt Rock lamp
Energy: 40%
Mental: 40%
Emotional: Need.moar.weekend.now!
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This past weekend I enjoyed some time in the park. The
weather has been getting warmer (over 80F) and it is feeling
like spring...not the spring I grew up with, but the spring
of Southern California.
At the park I usually walk on the trails at the base of the
mountain, away from the main park area. As I was walking, I
noticed how alive everything was. There was all of this new
growth from rains we've been having, there were bugs zipping
around, birds chirping, a light breeze, the smell of the
woods...it all just felt so grounding to me.
I also noticed that there were these groups (?) of small
butterflies that kept flying around, like a group of 20+
flying together. They seemed to be orangish and black in
color and probably just left a cocoon or something. They
didn't seem like monarchs. Not sure what kind they were. I
kept noticing these groups flying by and I started to
ruminate over their relatively short life spans. I don't
know how long they live, but I imagine that it is pretty
short compared to people. This train of thought seemed to
put a damper on my mood, so I lifted my head and looked for
more butterflies. I saw a bunch of them so I followed with
them, arms stretched to my side, fluttering and gliding
along, just getting lost in that moment being with them,
being like them as they are. It was fun! +50 happiness
boost!
Eventually, I got back to the populated areas and resumed my
human form. I got back to my car and played my guitar for
the butterflies as they kept fluttering by in
their...clusters?...groups?...gaggle?...what do you call a
cloud of butterflies that fly around in like a flock? Well,
since geese have gaggles, I think I will call them a babble
of butterflies. Totally incorrect, but whatever. So yeah, I
played my guitar, serenading the babbles of butterflies as
they fluttered by on their way to wherever the wind takes
them. There were so many babbles that I got lost in the
serenade and lost track of time. Over an hour had past, so I
said my farewell, wished them a safe journey, packed up my
axe and drove home.
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UPDATE: Looks like these butterfiles are called, "Painted
Ladies." [1],[2]
(TXT) [1] Text copy of article
(HTM) [2] Original web article
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