A few days ago, a sleepy little moth hitched a ride on John’s tennis shoe and came home with us after our morning walk. Actually, he wasn’t all that little. At first, he looked like a brittle brown leaf. Then, a butterfly? When I got a closer look, I knew he was a moth of some sort.
He clung there, exhausted.
We moved him onto the back of our wicker sofa on the porch. He fully spread his wings as though wanting to make sure we noticed his incredible markings.Continue Reading