There is safety and satisfaction bringing in groceries on a jewel like Saturday. There is comfort knowing you will eat. Arriving home, I saw an immature Eastern Tiger Swallowtail flash by. And after putting all where they should be, it was time to take the air.
On deck with Bourbon & Beer, I watched a mature, male Eastern Tiger Swallowtail navigate and inspect newly opened Beech leaves. Mid April in North Carolina, the deck is littered with Oak Catkins, bathed in cool blue shade and set off by brilliant, golden sunlight. Beech, White and Red Oak leaves are fresh and limp, vivid yellow green against a radiant Cerulean Blue sky.
Out front, Iris Blossoms are tightly furled but ready. The Butterfly Bush hosting the female Eastern Tiger Swallowtail above, won’t bloom for awhile yet.
Somewhere around adolescence I went, by myself, on a Saturday afternoon to Catholic Church, to make my confession. To be in a state of grace to receive Communion at Sunday Mass. I guess I was early, as there was no Priest yet in the Confessional. And I was alone, for a good while. And it was a new to me way to be in a state of grace. Like today. I went home then, without confession, as I have ever since.
My last visit to a Catholic Church was as a tourist, to Notre Dame in Paris. Before the fire. Leaving, I emptied my pocket of Euros and gave them to the Little Sisters of The Poor. They stood silently, for humanity.
Sixty plus years after my teenage epiphany, I am at peace with the Great Spirit.
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