When my boys were small, we had kind of a thing for butterflies and moths.
We planted plants with the specific intention that they be eaten by bugs. We learned Latin names. We foraged old fished tanks from Goodwill to serve as nurseries for caterpillars. We even joined a butterfly and moth society comprised almost entirely of retired men and… us.
We set up tents in the backyard and in them held experiments to find out which color flower our newly hatched butterflies preferred. We looked at wings under microscopes. We learned to stretch and preserve specimens.
My boys are bigger now. They’ve got friends, and sports and reading lists and papers to write. Places to go. People to see. We don’t have the time to chase winged things that we once had.
But we remember. We remember watching new wet wings dry. We remember the awe, and it lives in us still. Maybe one day, one day soon, we’ll dust off those nets again and run through fields.
Until then, we’ll dream, and draw and paint and carve winged things. Yes.
(These geometric butterflies are available as a print in my Etsy shop, here)