Sunday, November 11, 2012
Near the end of my most recent visit with my grandkids, the temperature dropped to 27*. My daughter brought a big pot of geraniums into the sun room for the night. The next morning, as I had my cup of chai latte, I noticed my youngest grandson carrying a small scrap of something red clutched in his fist. When I asked him what he had, he replied, "Butterfly!". He is just two years old, so I was surprised at his perception and wondered at his experience with butterflies. I cannot think of anything that so rightly describes that velvety petal. I think everyone should have a pot of butterfly wings on their windowsill.