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Hint: It is usually a Dream Captured by Time.
Category Archives: 29 Butterflies
Becoming
More than anything, butterflies demonstrate that bravery is the only option.
Silk Scarf
Just another of the numberless hopes my mother sent into the Universe, to see if this time the Universe would answer her with the rewards it seemed to bestow on others who worked no harder, loved no more loyally, spent no more frugally, imagined no less ambitiously.
I know just how she felt.
Catching Up with Butterflies
Look what I found in my butterfly net…I guess they are all little shrines. That seems to be what I’m making, and re-making. And then, I take a picture and like magic, they become pixels. Amazing.
Happy St. Butterfly’s Day
Ben Wineke is one of the new friends Mom made when she moved to Verona, and established herself as a drinker of chai at the Sow’s Ear. I say “is” because I think they still are friends, even though her part of the conversation about Ireland and Daniel Day Lewis is on a different channel now. When Ben and Mom met, his personal style was still emerging. He has since resolved, as he says, to “Bring dapper back!” with true finesse and originality. Ben donned this butterfly, in her honor, for my St. Patrick’s day picture. Barbara would say, “He looks grand!”
Thaw
Do they remember they were caterpillars, and wonder if, really truly, they can fly? Or do they just ascend because there is no other direction?
Impossible to Say
If you knew her then, you can hear the jingle of her bracelets and the glassy ring of brushes in the water cup, and the tin foil rustle of colors mixing; you can smell the cigarette smoke and freshly opened paints and possibly Chamade or Arpege; you know how she held her hand just like that, you remember the tv and radio out of frame, and possibly a fuschia can of TaB. But mostly, if you know who you are now, you know that when you knew her then, she was trying – trying so very, very hard.
Butterfly Lost
Yesterday’s butterfly was missing. But I found 2 today! I will post the butterfly bonus tomorrow.
Unqualified Yes
Despite any brooding jealousies lumbering around my cranium like – well – iron butterflies, in this little corner of the world, I am the only one qualified for the job.
Wherein
Sometimes butterflies get caught in a glass so you can take a look at them. The problem is that then they aren’t butterflies anymore.
what is beautiful remains 