Tuesday, 23 November 2010


The butterfly is so bright and beautiful. It flits around darting, seemingly without care or purpose, here to there, hither and thither.
I watch them in my garden - the first sighting in spring is always a great surprise to me and I watch with childlike intrigue following it's every move, wondering where it's going, what lies in store for this delicate creature?
Sometimes when I'm driving here and there catching up with friends, flying down to England to catch up with my daughters and the friends I made in Wiltshire, friends from a time in my life that appears to belong to someone else, I feel like that spring butterfly.
One year I stayed in a holiday house on one of the western isles of Scotland, in the living room displayed on the wall was a selection of butterflies with their wings pinned down, framed and sealed in one place forevermore.
I didn't like seeing them like this, it unnerved me, upsetting to see them so stationary, no flickering wings, no journeying with a destination unknown - just there - encased.
For now I embrace the opportunities I have from being able to travel and move freely from here to there, but at some point I want to be stationary, no pinning down of my wings, but me choosing to stop.
"Happiness is a butterfly, which when pursued, is always just beyond your grasp, but which, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you." - Nathaniel Hawthorne

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