The Mysterious Traveler

A number of you have asked me how Mascot is doing, so I reckon an update in is in order.  (Read the adventures of Mascot here, here, and here).

Alas, a voracious fungus devoured most of my once-lush geraniums, leaving them rather skeletal. The home that formerly sheltered Mascot from the natural evils of the compound left him exposed and vulnerable in the end.  And so he fled.  I miss him, and am working fervently to nurse my geraniums back to health, with the hope that he can safely return one day.

In the meantime, I had an unexpected visitor this week.

She tiptoed carefully across my french door's frame before quietly resting in the cool shade of the eave.

Occasionally, she fanned her wings, as if to draw spring's fresh breeze into herself.

I wonder if she's resting from a long journey? And I wonder who she is?

Perhaps she is a young princess from some far-off butterfly kingdom who grew tired of always fluttering about her father's small dominion.  And perhaps one day she saw a handsome monarch butterfly dance by the kingdom before flying off to some distant, unexplored meadow. And maybe she was suddenly overcome by the desire to get out, to explore, to know the rest of the world and, hopefully, to fall in love.

Sadly, as is the case with most I-must-break-free-from-my-cage-of-a-life-and-see-the-world-where I will-no-doubt-fall-in-love stories, she endured a tragedy along the way.

This cat tore a chunk out of her wing.

You will always be the villain in the stories I tell, oh ye nefarious one.

It seems just yesterday Mascot was gripping my door, his three legs splayed and trembling, thanks to you, Mr. Cat.  I should have done much more than merely banish you from the compound. I should have called the p.o.u.n.d.  I have learned my lesson. May no disabled insect ever cling to my door because of you again.

On a positive note, my door seems to welcome the disabled.  I like that.  I hope it's always this way.

Anyway, I wish I had some sort of elixir of life to renew the princess butterfly's strength—perhaps buttercup nectar—but I don't tend to keep any form of elixir of life on hand, and so she flew away after a 20-minute rest.

For all you 'Where's Waldo' fans, the butterfly is
 just about to fly over the wall.  Can you spot her?

Princess Butterfly, may you find buttercup nectar just over the next hill, and may it rejuvenate your frail body so that you can find the monarch butterfly you are supposed to fall in love with, and may the two of you find an apple-orchard-that-is-adjacent-to-a-buttercup-field to live in, happily ever after. The end.

I just love having mysterious visitors.

© by scj