08/05/2007

The View from Sunnybank

A little girl on the very edge of flight

By Dee Blair
Local columnist
dblair@
voyager.net

Read Dee's past columns here
Read Dee's Good Dirt blog

Such a lovely morning! I looked out the kitchen window, and noticed a young girl, about 13, standing in the main garden near the big bench, her right arm held above her head, talking — to herself? No, wait … she was apparently speaking to something on her finger! Hmmm. Another garden mystery was unfolding; what on earth was happening here?

I watched from the kitchen as the new sun bathed the child in honeyed light, and then padded outside, quietly, to investigate. An amazing sight greeted me. A magnificent Monarch butterfly delicately hung, upside down, on her index finger. Its wings gently opened and closed, and the morning sun caught their jeweled colors.

The effect was stunning. Accepting my presence with equanimity, she addressed it quietly. "It won't be long now; you'll love this garden.”

I sat on the bench, momentarily silenced by this astonishing picture. Her sweet smile warmed me.

"She's just emerged from her cocoon, and needs the sun to dry her wings; soon she'll fly away…” Her voice was clear, soft, so as not to alarm the butterfly, and devoid of "you know,” "'I mean,” "like” and other horrid verbal "ticks” that infest so much American conversation.

Rarely do I encounter children with such self-possession, and the quiet confidence that usually comes with age and experience. She fit comfortably into her skin, and was utterly unself-conscious. That gorgeous butterfly dangled contentedly on her finger, so trusting, and as patient as she, waiting for The Moment.

Her name was Esprit, and she, like her name, was lovely. Perfect creamy skin glowed, faintly blushed with summer sun and youth, and warm, dark blonde, silky hair fell neatly below her shoulders. Her eyes had a direct gaze, marrying nicely with that calm, confident voice.

"She needs time to adjust to her new world, usually about two-three hours; I live quite near here, and thought your garden, and its relative safety, would be a fine place to release her. There's certainly a nectar feast here, with lots of different flavors to sample.” She moved carefully over to a lily, and gently coaxed the creature onto the flower. It clung there for a moment, but seemed hesitant, preferring Esprit's finger. Patiently she allowed the insect to return to its perch, and continued to speak to it quietly, full of encouragement.

After a bit she commented: "When her wings harden, flight — and her new life — will be possible. She's chosen the perfect day to emerge; it's warm, with no wind to muss the wonderful, perfumed air.”

Another direct look, and a radiant smile. This child knew her place in the universe.

We sat on that bench, content to silently admire the Monarch.

Eventually the garden bell rang; four visitors entered, then stopped in astonishment. I filled them in. Everyone was enchanted, as Esprit explained that for the last couple of years she'd been collecting cocoons spotted on her frequent nature walks; each time a butterfly would emerge, in her room at home, she'd bring it into Sunnybank Garden.

The visitors were full of questions that Esprit carefully answered. Then, after another quick assessment, she gently settled the insect onto a fresh rose blossom; it seemed happy enough, this time, to remain.

With a final murmured goodbye she stepped away, having done all she could.

Esprit herself had just left the safer, smaller world of elementary school; her metamorphosis, into a huge, new environment, was imminent. Much later, veterinary medicine beckoned. Like the butterfly, the young woman inside her was waiting, calmly, and with great anticipation … for her time to fly.

Dee Blair's private Traverse City secret garden at Sunnybank (325 Sixth St.) is often open to visitors daily from around 9 a.m. to around early evening, with extended hours possible by appointment. It's best to check the sign to be sure, or if planning a group visit, call ahead (231)929-4351) to avoid disappointment. She can be reached care of the Record Eagle, or via e-mail at dblair@voyager.net. Also, see her blog, which often elaborates on columns, at blogs.record-eagle.com.