June 17-23, 2019. Hug a pollinator today (gently).
It was 36 years ago today . . . wait, that sounds like a Beatles song. Anyway, here I am, young, hope
lessful, and unemployed. When I woke up on Monday, June 13, it was the first time in my life I had nowhere to go. Adrift. Typical because planning isn’t my forte, but it wasn’t a good feeling. I was too burned out and poor for graduate school to be an option.
After spending part of the summer selling Chicago City Ballet tickets by phone (really), I found a full-time job starting in late September through the classifieds in the Chicago Tribune (really).
One job I interviewed for that I didn’t get — a writer/editor for a dietitian association (if I remember correctly). Why didn’t I get it? I couldn’t type fast enough.
Before the tornado warnings started and the tornado sirens went off, I went for a morning bike ride, when it was still a sunny, pleasant, even perfect spring day. My main objective was lilac bushes. I love the scent of lilacs. They remind me of home, probably because a couple of lilac bushes at the front of the trailer park bloomed a few years.
When I got there, someone walking toward me caused a mini-swarm of insects to rise — many of them butterflies. Monarchs, painted ladies, red admirals — well, one monarch, anyway. I managed to take some photos, although they were skittish, and I didn’t want to disrupt their breakfast too much — they must have tremendous energy needs just now.
1 Per Wikipedia:
It [red admiral] is known as an unusually people-friendly butterfly, often landing on and using humans as perches.
If only the world could stay as glorious as some fleeting moments.
. . . falls mainly on the plains. Or something like that. Sky over Lake Michigan after a late afternoon/early evening rain.