Faith of a Butterfly

Eventually I saw that the path of the heart requires a full gesture, a degree of abandon that can be terrifying. Only then is it possible to achieve a sparkling metamorphosis.

Carlos Castaneda

Metamorphosis

A tiny egg, left on a leaf, begins to split open. A worm-like thing, not much bigger than a piece of dirt crawls out and begins to eat. The little creature grows and sheds its skin, and grows again, and again and again, until one day it begins to feel a change in its body. Knowing instinctively that this change requires action, the creature finds a spot to spin a silk hammock to hang from. After the creature hangs itself here, its outer skin forms a soft shell that hardens into a firm case, almost mummy-like. This is a precarious time.

The creature is immobile and unable to protect itself from predators. Inside, its body is dissolving into liquid and reforming, gradually changing the function of nearly every cell. One day, the re-formed body inside is stronger than the outer shell- and moving restlessly, breaks the shell open.

Wings! Now it has wings! Beautiful, colorful wings. Blood pumps from its little heart to fill them with the strength they need to stretch out and fly - and to achieve this, all the little creature had to do was nearly die.

A monarch clinging to a Milkweed Flower (in the company of a bee) - milkweed is the only plant where monarchs can lay their eggs. I noticed this year that many of my neighbors let the milkweed grow in their gardens. Some even purposely planted it. I am sure that’s why I’ve seen more monarchs this year, and it’s another reason I love my neighbors.

Zebra longwing - this is a butterfly I saw in Florida, at Oleta River State Park, earlier this year.

Mexican Silverspots mirroring each other - Miami Beach.

A gathering of pearl crescent butterflies (and a bee) along the trail in Teton-Bridgerton National Forest

A swallowtail that stayed. I usually find them to be such frantic flyers, but this one was happy in my neighbors flowers.

Pretty little cabbage white butterfly on the marjoram blossoms in my front garden.

Just living is not enough... one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower. Hans Christian Andersen

All of these photos, except the last one, were taken this year. I am always looking for butterflies when I see flowers and the weather is warm. I knew, but didn’t really understand, the stages of the life of a butterfly until I was researching it for this post. It made me think of moments in my life when I am fearful and uncertain about forces that are out of my control. What if I could see these things as a metamorphosis, making a me stronger version of myself?

If you want to know more about the transition from caterpillar to pupa (chrysalis) to butterfly, click here. From the perspective of a human, especially a claustrophobic one, the whole concept is terrifying.

Thank you so much for being here! I will see you next week!

P.S. I have some 8X10 prints of the last picture available, if you’re interested, and I can custom print any of the photos in my blog. Just email me by using this link: Rhoda Lewis.

Nature’s Heartbeat

All Nature's wildness tells the same story: the shocks and outbursts of earthquakes, volcanoes, geysers, roaring, thundering waves and floods, the silent uprush of sap in plants, storms of every sort, each and all, are the orderly, beauty-making love-beats of Nature's heart.

John Muir

The Abyss Pool at Yellowstone - deep, dark and steamy

Mother Nature

She is spitting fire,

boiling clay and mud-

she is bleeding metal

too hot to touch-

she is carving

deep lines

in pillars of stone,

crumbling mountains of rock

in her little green fingers.

Her blazing temper

creates cathedrals in the sky,

then her windy rage

and stormy tears

knock them down again.

She is not steady

she is not safe,

she is a miracle

of volatility.

I feel her forces

at work on me.

I am not stronger

Than granite-

And lines can be carved

So easily

In this soft flesh.

But without her,

I wouldn’t be at all.

So when her storms relent -

and she is calm,

her blue skies shining,

her voice gently whispering

through the trees,

I try to trust the design -

and breathe.

Black Pool mineral run-off, steam rising and beautiful pine backdrop.

Black pool from above - changes over time have made it much lighter

The Fishing Cone Geyser - it is still hot, (172 degrees Fahrenheit) but no longer erupts.

Blue Funnel Spring has collapsed inward and almost dried up. When you walk past it; there is an illusion that its center moves.

Mimulus pools - the colors of the pools and the grasses blended so beautifully. After Yellowstone, I drove all day to the east side of Wyoming. If you want to know more about the geysers and springs in this area (West Thumb) of Yellowstone, click here.

The next day, I was so close to the Devil’s Tower National Monument, that I decided to hike there before driving to Custer State Park in South Dakota.

At the base of the trail to Devil’s Tower, there is a sculpture of a smoke ring - The idea to frame the tower inside the ring is not an original one of mine (there is actually a picture like this at the park), but I couldn’t resist doing it too. The sky was so nearly perfect.

Prarie dogs were popping up all over from their little network of holes and tunnels at the bottom of the hill leading up to the trail

One of my favorite views of the tower. Some native American tribes believe it is the base of an ancient tree - you can see why in this picture.

Climbers scaling their way to the top while I was hiking around the base of the tower.

You can see them here again - it gives you a little perspective on how tall this natural formation is… and how adventurous some people are!

At the end of the hike, returning back to where I started - I couldn’t resist another picture of a prairie dog. They were cheerful company.

The Cathedral Spires at Custer State Park - Castles in the Air. Granite, carved by time, water, and wind.

A precarious looking balancing act of stone on stone, a natural cairn

Skies were darkening while I made my way back down the trail - I got caught in a thunderstorm running back to my van.

After the storm ended, I stopped to walk around the calm water of Legion Lake.

This was an unusual road trip experience for me. When I started out, I had no firm plans. Somehow, things came together and I found some places that I was really sad to leave. I got caught in a couple of storms; one while i was camped, the other while i was still hiking - reminding me that mother nature is in control. I guess that, and the nature of the places I visited, which were all dramatic examples of the power of natural forces, inspired my writing this week.

Thank you for your time and attention. I really appreciate you being here. See you next week!

Finding My Way in Granite Creek and the Grand Tetons

…Let us risk the wildest places, Lest we go down in comfort, and despair.

Mary Oliver (excerpt from the poem, Magellan)

Return

Walking

this wooded path

under the shade of pines

beside the cool river

I know

this is where I’ll return

when I return

to dust.

The Ranger at the Bridger-Teton National Forest told me - “we’re really happy about the wildflowers this year. - you came at a good time.”

A magpie, tussled in the wind, perched on the roof of a shelter where I stopped to eat breakfast and plan the day.

Granite Creek Campground - Bridger-Teton National Forest. The Fortress.

The Falls at Granite Creek.

First view of the Tetons in the Grand Teton National Park.

The smell of pine was everywhere.

A little girl said there were moose at the moose pond, so I went, and there they were, huge, beautiful beasts.

Hidden Falls. Cooling relief after a hot climb.

Gros Ventre Campground. Storms threatened the first night, but passed around the park.

The beginning of a hike to Cascade Canyon.

Hawk protecting his family nest.

On my hike through the canyon, I met a family who generously let me tag along with them so I wouldn’t get eaten by bears - and one of them took this photo of me to send to my family.

Cascade Canyon Trail - Weather started to turn while I hiked back to the trailhead.

A chipmunk at Inspiration Point - a stop back along the trail

Groundhog near the Moose Pond. Think he was startled to see a human in the rain.

What a difference a few hours can make in the weather. Arriving back where I started, the Tetons enveloped in clouds and rain.

Sunset from my campsite.

My last night at the park, another storm rolled through. I woke up in the middle of the night, praying a tree wouldn’t fall on my van. In the morning, although limbs and trees had fallen and the power was out at the park office, all my fellow campers and I were ok.

And that’s how it ends. My last morning in the Grand Tetons.

When I was here, I felt my mortality for so many reasons. Bears, remote and unnavigable roads, lack of cell service, storms. I think that’s why I began to think about where I would want my ashes to be spread after I die. If I could choose anywhere, it would be in the woods somewhere…

The thing is, if I were to die out here - in some beautiful remote place, doing something I love to do, it wouldn’t be the worst thing. Life itself is risky. I would rather take some risk than never dare. What do you think?