Stinging
nettles don't have many redeeming features but one is that they are a
breeding ground for butterflies and a source of food for their
caterpillars. One of the joys of summer is watching them chomping
their way through leaf after leaf leaving only the skeleton behind
and getting fatter and fatter in the process.
Looking from the main house, the field they call home (and in which my caravan nestles) looks like a neglected overgrown wilderness, but if you walk carefully through and look closely you will find these wriggling communities of tiny black creatures- treasure easily missed. Dozens and dozens of them journeying into a new way of being embracing colour and flight as they emerge from their cocoons. Leaving behind bits of carcase no longer needed in their lives as peacock butterflies. And although they don't go far from their beloved nettles, their whole experience of life has been transformed as they prance and dance in the air with an abandonment I can only marvel at.
I'm reminded of a story....
'The man whispered: 'God speak to me' and a meadow lark sang. But the man did not hear it.
So the man yelled: 'God speak to me' and the thunder rolled across the sky. But the man did not listen.
The man looked round and said 'God show me a miracle' and new life was born. But the man did not notice.
So the man cried out in despair 'Touch me God and let me know you are here' Whereupon God reached down and touched the man.
But the man brushed the butterfly away and walked on.
For more blogs from around Mill House go to www.lynnechittypoetryandprayers.com
