June 2010 – Page 5 – Teeny Tiny Pieces

I remember my father tending to the apple trees in the yard where I grew up. In the springtime, when the leaves were tender and bright green, thousands of caterpillars hatched…and they would munch, munch, munch, on the leaves, just like in Eric Carle’s book, The Very Hungry Caterpillar. I remember my father’s distress when the caterpillars threatened to eat the trees down to the trunk.

I didn’t understand life-cycles, nor did I understand the amazing transition that the caterpillars undergo.

When I began teaching school, caterpillars were the star of the life-cycle show. My wonderful volunteer, Deborah, would spend hours in milkweed patches looking for Monarch eggs and caterpillars. (I have to say, I spent hours looking, and could never find one.)

She would bring the little critters, along with their milkweed buffet, and set up the aquarium in the back of our classroom. Over the next weeks we’d watch the caterpillars grow longer, fatter, and then sluggish….and then, they’d disappear. Overnight, they would spin themselves into a picture-perfect chrysalis, and just hang there for a week or so.

With great anticipation, we’d check the chrysalis each day, waiting for some sign of life in what looked like an entombment. The waiting was hard, but it was important that we left them alone until they were ready to emerge. I don’t know what happens if a chrysalis gets shaken by a third-grader, mid-transition, but it can’t be pretty.

Then we’d see it…a slight color change. The protective shell became translucent, and then suddenly, clear. At some point a student would notice a bit of vibration. We’d gather around and watch, and wait, and watch, and wait some more, and then the children were dismissed for the day. (Awwww shoot!) I had to make the students go catch their buses…they didn’t want to leave.

Sometimes the butterfly would wait for morning, and sometimes the gift was all mine.

The vibration turns into a wiggle, and the wiggle into life. I have no idea which part comes out first, but suddenly, there it is! Amazing glory! The poor little guy stumbles out of his little blankie, all wet and disoriented. Short of the birth of a child, there are few things as miraculous and un-explainable as the emergence of a butterfly.

Newly hatched butterflies can’t fly. Their wings are soaking wet and stuck together. It takes time for them to dry off and figure out what to do. Perhaps they take a little time to ponder the direction they’d like to fly, and what they might accomplish next. After-all, the whole emergence thing is a hard act to follow.

Holding a wet, shaky butterfly is a precious, God-given, gift. Before they can fly, they crawl all over you. They move slowly at first, but speed up within an hour or so as they gain confidence, and dry off those wings. The ultimate show and tell!

I remember one butterfly in-particular that the kids named Tiger. ‘He’ crawled on fingers, toes, and noses, and the children were…well, they were children. We sat with Tiger in the grass, waiting for his wings to dry in the sunshine. Lots of giggles, lots of amazement….and suddenly, he was off. Fluttering around unsteadily, and then up, into the bright blue sky. We watched. Big smiles, and big imaginations, wondering where Tiger was headed.

I don’t think I’ve ever been called ‘Tiger’, but I’m feeling every bit as much in emergence as he was the afternoon he emerged from his cocoon. I’ve been processing, asking questions, getting feedback. I’ve been in transition, personally, and with my writing. My wings are still wet. I’m enjoying stumbling around forums with other writers, finding my direction. I’m making time to write from my heart, so that when my wings are completely dry, I’ll take to the sky with wings wide open.

Take good care everyone….it’s a pleasure to write for you.