A spot of bright shining yellow on the edge of the walkway caught my eye. I thought, This little guy is either very rash for venturing out in the open like that, or else he tastes very bad, and wants the world, his small but very dangerous world, to know it right up front. I snapped this photo, then eased him onto a leaf (he curled up immediately) moved him back among the plants. He wasn’t in any of my reference books, so I looked him up online—the search term “fuzzy yellow caterpillar” made him easy to find. Meet a very young Acronicta americana (one of the dagger moths). The other picture, below (from Wikimedia Commons) is what he will look like after his transformative nap. For a butterfly or moth, youth can be a time to wear all the crazy funky styles before turning into a sober responsible adult, like little Acronicta here. But there are also those that start out rather nondescript, and burst from their cocoons all decked out—like the sulphurs and the wood wood nymphs—proving it’s never too late to kick up your heels (all of them). Caterpillars are so like people.
The Cloud Messenger (Meghadūta) is a lyric poem by the respected Indian poet, Kālidāsa. The poem centers around a yaksa in exile. Longing for his beloved, waiting for him on a Himalayan mountain, he asks a cloud to take a message to her. The sights he tells the cloud it will see on its way make up most of the poem.
The idea of recording observations appeals to me. I thought The Cloud Messenger was the perfect title for a blog about the journey that we all make as we move through our days.
I'm a baby boomer who grew up dancing in the streets of Detroit during the classic Motown years, lived beside the Rocky Mountains for many years, now retired and living (and writing full time) in S. Ontario. I have one blog for rock 'n' roll oldies, and one for nature, poetry and life along the Lake.