I could never live in Reno, or Denver, or even Seattle, because the mountains call to me. Every time I step outside I see them, and I want to walk among them. I imagine the tall evergreens, the ice-cold streams, snow and scree – the tang in the air. Unconsciously, I feel a strain in my legs. I adjust the weight of my pack. I breathe deep. I’m gone.
I’ve noticed the colors of the dominant dragonflies
(and damselflies, for all I know) seem to change with the seasons. From blues and greens in spring, through big, black-banded wings in early summer, to gold and scarlet now.
Like butterflies, dragonflies are beautiful, but they seem stronger, tougher, faster. Their huge, multi-faceted eyes see everything. They catch their prey on the wing. As larvae, they can even eat small fish. Their survival seems less improbable than the butterfly’s, yet both are here.