“Butterflies like these are now burning in the fires of Quebec and elsewhere across Canada. Although some of them might escape the flames, plants of course have no such recourse. “ You bring me to tears Mr. Pfeiffer...
The butterflies, the wildflowers, the local, native anthropology, the current events, the climate science, the contemplations of a wise man, the tip of the hat to Bill McKibben.
I'm grateful. I'm full. And maybe just a little bit smarter...
Congratulations on the feature in The Boston Globe!
Now for something utterly lazy and useless. It's one of my many pet beliefs that that they were originally flutterbys before some tongue-twisted person or persons messed up and went about shouting butterfly every time they saw one. There is a possibility that this is indeed true as also that I'm of a fairly large population that thinks this too.
Your story UNDER the headline about Putin is, well, the mind boogies. And while it's not exactly a consolation to find a writer poised on the cusp of beauty and despair, it is a tonic for loneliness. Anyway, thanks for the gorgeous photo of fresh moth eggs.
I was searching for butterflies the other day, wading through tall grass along the side of the road. A man pulled up in his van eyeing me suspiciously. "What are you doing?"
"I'm looking for butterflies." I replied. A huge smile crossed his face. "I heard some guy found one after 25 years looking." He rolled up his window and drove off still smiling.
Wonderful piece, Bryan. I've also been thinking of what those smoke particles once were: the lives, the relationships, the landscapes. Glad you took the time to write about it.
Congratulations on the Globe story.
And I feel you deer fly pain
“Butterflies like these are now burning in the fires of Quebec and elsewhere across Canada. Although some of them might escape the flames, plants of course have no such recourse. “ You bring me to tears Mr. Pfeiffer...
You did it again. Marvelous. Thank you for sharing.
This was a full meal.
Meat and two veg.
Something salty, something starchy, something rich, something spicy, something cool, something sweet.
The butterflies, the wildflowers, the local, native anthropology, the current events, the climate science, the contemplations of a wise man, the tip of the hat to Bill McKibben.
I'm grateful. I'm full. And maybe just a little bit smarter...
Thank you.
Love reading anything you write!
Congratulations on the feature in The Boston Globe!
Now for something utterly lazy and useless. It's one of my many pet beliefs that that they were originally flutterbys before some tongue-twisted person or persons messed up and went about shouting butterfly every time they saw one. There is a possibility that this is indeed true as also that I'm of a fairly large population that thinks this too.
Your story UNDER the headline about Putin is, well, the mind boogies. And while it's not exactly a consolation to find a writer poised on the cusp of beauty and despair, it is a tonic for loneliness. Anyway, thanks for the gorgeous photo of fresh moth eggs.
Once again, thank you for your beautiful words Bryan. Always appreciated.
I was searching for butterflies the other day, wading through tall grass along the side of the road. A man pulled up in his van eyeing me suspiciously. "What are you doing?"
"I'm looking for butterflies." I replied. A huge smile crossed his face. "I heard some guy found one after 25 years looking." He rolled up his window and drove off still smiling.
Thanks Bryan.
Wonderful piece, Bryan. I've also been thinking of what those smoke particles once were: the lives, the relationships, the landscapes. Glad you took the time to write about it.