Butterfly

Today, on the 2nd anniversary of this mercurial space, I am compelled to write about something that seems bright and cheery mid-winter. Bean and Germil and Buddy came unexpectedly in December for a week, and it was among the greatest memories of family time I now have. Most of my time spent with my family is around an event - a holiday, a wedding - so it comes with a little bit of added stress. Other trips are decided months in advance, overplanned, and tend to never quite meet my expectations, which would be impossibly met considering we are people with such complicated history. This trip, courtesy of free tickets, was planned and booked in short order, and arrived just weeks after a hectic but relatively uneventful, drama-wise, weekend in Newport Beach. I loved it.

Anyway, while they were here we spent a happy half hour in a secret treasure in Durham - a butterfly conservatory. It was freezing outside, but a balmy 80 degrees inside, and butterflies flitting around your head in a lovely, small, tropical oasis. In the kind of fortune and happiness that marked the whole visit, admission was free because of Bean's universal card, and Buddy's glee spoke for all of us.

I know that butterflies are beautiful and graceful and have a short life for the work they have entering it, and maybe this is why they are a ubiquitous artistic icon. I do think they deserve their fame.