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Metaphors of Life Journal_Rainy Day Yearnings of a Nature Lover

Metaphors of Life Journal_Rainy Day Yearnings of a Nature Lover

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Published by Michael Robert Dyet
Trembling with impatience as a rainy day deprives me of the joys of nature.
Trembling with impatience as a rainy day deprives me of the joys of nature.

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Published by: Michael Robert Dyet on Jun 22, 2013
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11/05/2014

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SONGS OF NATURERainy Day Yearnings of a Nature Lover 
~ 
Aristotle,Greek Philosopher 
Hmmm, where shall I find the patience to wait out a rainy Saturday when nature calls soimploringly for my attention?Rainy Saturdays in summer put me in a restless state of mind
 –
particularly when the weather during week that led into it was picture perfect. It seems like the fates have a personal grudgeagainst me.I know that I should heed Aristotl
e’s wisdom.
It is just one of the 93 days of summer that onlyofficially arrived yesterday. Perhaps my impatience is subtly nudged by the fact that the days inthe northern hemisphere begin to get shorter, albeit by small degrees, after summer solstice. Itseems like the countdown has already begun.
“Green was the silence, wet was the light, the month of June trembled like a butterfly.” 
Chilean Poet
 
I think I’m of the
same frame of mind as Neruda when it comes to June. I tremble withimpatience and flutter nervously like a butterfly as I wait for the chance to indulge myself in
summer’s excesses.
 I so desperately want to set my eyes upon a Great Spangled Fritillary
 –
one of the most strikingof the butterflies that make themselves at home here. Golden orange as if reflecting back thesun
. Painted by the Maker’s hand with black scallops, eyespots and eyebrow like squiggles.
Perched for effect on a spiky purple wildflower.June is the season of Clubtail dragonflies. The Unicorn Clubtail, with its distinctive gold claspersand yellow arrow spikes running down the tail, is already entering old age in the short lifespan of dragonflies. I really would like the opportunity to tip my cap to it before its days are over for thisyear.Painted Lady butterflies should have made their way north across the Great Lakes and arrived
here about now. In my mind’s eye, I see their fast and erratic flight across the fields. Imagine
tracking one to where it perches and waiting to watch the wings open with a crescendo to revealthe gaudy mix of orange, pink, black and white.
Perhaps this is the summer I’ll finally see the legendary Dragonhunter with its striking yellow
thoracic stripes. The
Field Guide tells me it’s a huge dragonfly with powerful legs and that
itseems immune to the effects of certain wasp stings and to the toxins in the Monarch butterfliesit eats. What a shame if one should wander into one of my favourite summer haunts and leaveagain before the weather clears.Such concerns may seem foolish to you. But to me, the sight of these creatures is a moment of  joy seized from the wheel of chance. Each one is a metaphor for the mystery and pageantry of nature that calls to me and b
rings peace to my soul when I’m surrounded by it.
 

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