I am living in an obstacle course, sharing my bed with curtains and carton lids and clothes I don’t have a place to put away (please don’t suggest the closet or I will scream).  The butterflies, and their belongings, are all Over There, on the opposite side of Mt. Bedpile, above the Great Barrier Closet and Prop Valley.  Reaching the butterflies is a challenge.  I weave my way to them, stepping around framed art and my tax records, but once retrieved – where to set them down?  How to make a place for the butterflies to become what they want – a discovery that needs room and time – when we are squeezed between the window and the bookshelf?

No one else may feel so tenderly towards this image as I do, but it is the dearest thing I have made in a long while.   It enfolds my world turned inside out, the proper order of things reversed but somehow more correct. I couldn’t have made this picture anywhere in my old home.  Living here will change how I see and – I have learned – that changes ME.