I’ve spent the greater part of my morning (note: today my morning is your afternoon) researching butterflies on the internet. I’d no idea there were so many varieties. We’re talking thousands of different kinds of butterflies. It’s incredible. Anyway, there’s a really funky looking butterfly that’s either dead, comotose or just plain stuck to my front door. At first glance, I thought it was something the neighbor kids had constructed–a stick, a couple dried oak leaves and some fuzzy glue. Really–that’s what this thing looks like. Based on my research, it looks like he’s something related to the Indian leafwing, though the guy on my door is much larger. He’s thick bodied, and each wing is about 2″ wide.
What gets me about this whole thing isn’t so much my discovery or the process of identifying my new neighbor. Rather, it’s the way this butterfly has slowed down my entire day, caused me to deviate from the Saturday errands I had planned and instead focus on making sense of the smaller stuff. It doesn’t matter much that I haven’t done much with my day (at least, right now it doesn’t). What matters is this awarenesss, this recognition of those tiny beings just outside my door.
Damnit. I think i’m becoming a hippie.