I've not had many good ideas for things to post about lately. Not much going on at the house. Every so often I hit a lick at that patch in the bathroom wall. It's almost done. I'll paint it this weekend and hopefully get the light fixture back up and all. The weather here has been quite nice these past 2 days and I have noticed that I have a little more time to work outside when I get home from work because the daylight is lasting. Which means spring is on the way!!
While I was eating supper I was watching a special on PBS about the migration of the monarch butterflies. How astounding that such tiny, fragile creatures travel 2,000 miles and over the Great Lakes and the ocean. How do they know where to go and how to get there? The scientist surmised that the only way the butterflies make it, since they are really so poorly designed for long travel, is that they can glide most of the way on warm air currents.
This past summer I remember seeing the monarchs fly across our job. For several days in a row a very small but steady stream of bright, orange butterflies made their way across the jobsite, all heading in exactly the same direction. We had stood the tilt up panels at that point and I remember watching the little orange spots slowly rise up and disappear over the tops of the panels.
Lately I have been a little down and it occurred to me that you all are witness to my migration. I feel like I am heading towards something but I'm over that big body of water and I can't see the other side. Occasionally, I hit a good wind and can coast for awhile but a lot of the time it's very hard and I don't think I'll make it. Do the butterflies recognize any landmarks on their way, from their collective memories passed down from countless generations? Sometimes I think I get a glimpse of where I'm going: a certain feeling in the air or a sudden, brief moment that comes in a dream, a few curious words from a stranger. I guess everyone feels this way but sometimes it just strikes me rather forcefully.