The morning is so pretty. The sky is blue and cloudless. The sun is clear and bright. A repeat of previous days. I love reruns! I ate my breakfast in the swing listening to the calls and love songs of the birds. A hawk has been circling the neighborhood calling loudly for his mate. A squirrel got mad and chattered at me for several minutes. I could see him sitting on a fork of limbs high up in the oak tree. Couldn’t figure out what made him mad but he was telling the news. Maybe he was cussing the hawk. Saw a few chickadees and the faithful cardinals. The fighting finches came to the yard, had a few quarrels, and left. I always think the finches give the cardinals heartburn. The cardinals are serious about their bird seed and spread out on all the feeders. They have no patience for the finches and won’t share a feeder with them.

The neighborhood magnolias are dropping brown leaves and when the winds kicks them, the leaves run down the street, chasing each other, head over heels, clicking on the pavement like children playing tag. Penelope looks up, hearing the noise, and is confused when she sees nothing in the street. The oak tree is dropping her leaves, just a few at a time, quietly in whirlwind circles.

In the afternoon large fluffy clouds highlighted by the sun’s kisses filled the blue sky canvas. Father Sky drug his brush along the bottom of the clouds and painted them light gray. A cool breeze was rustling the leaves and making the wind chimes melodious. I was sitting in the swing and the wind chimes were faintly ringing and I hear this soft hymn, O Lord My God. I thought the wind chimes were playing the hymn. I started humming along and then realized I had left the internet open on my phone and a bell choir was playing the hymn on my phone. I am such an idjut! It’s amazing I can dress myself every day and find my way to the porch, much less ponder on anything.

Been chasing butterflies all over the yard today. They didn’t seem to mind the intrusions. Guess they’re used to me now. Read that a group of butterflies is called a kaleidoscope. That’s such a beautiful description of them. I have several cloudless sulfurs and monarchs, an eastern tiger swallowtail, and a silver spotted flitter visiting my flowers. One of the monarchs has a torn back wing and had an erratic flitter and flight pattern. I followed him from flower to flower watching him open his wings wondering if the missing little row on his back wing was painful and wondering if the warm sunshine on his back made him feel better.

Life is fragile just like the butterfly. Butterflies can be carried away by the wind. We need to cherish every day. We never know what tomorrow’s wind will bring. We have struggles and challenges in our lives that we have to learn how to deal with. We have to be a caterpillar and crawl before we embrace life. We travel through difficult times and are stronger from these trials.

Butterflies are symbols of spiritual rebirth and change. We look at the butterflies magnificence and never think of the challenges it dealt with before it became a thing of beauty. A butterfly starts so ordinary and one day becomes so extraordinary. Starts out as an egg, then turns into a caterpillar, then turns into a chrysalis, and with a struggle breaks free of the chrysalis to emerge as a wondrous little creature.

We can embrace our struggles and learn from our mistakes. Life is always evolving and we are always undergoing transformations ourselves. We have the ability to break from our own chrysalis and become something beautiful, too. We can spread our wings and cherish every day we’re able to fly.

“Butterflies can’t see their wings. They can’t see how truly beautiful they are, but everyone else can.” — Naya Rivera