Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

pretty good sized bed on the west side of the arbor, under the little apple tree. When I looked at all these flowers, I longed to get out in the woods and see them coming up.

     Just as I got thru eating dinner, Frances’ exclamations called my attention to a flower pot behind me. There hanging was a big Cecropia moth, which had just come out of the cocoon that I had placed there several weeks ago. It was a beauty, decked out in his dark blackish color and brown edges, and odd circles and half moons scattered over its wings. As I looked down at it, I thought what a good specimen it would make for my collection, but As I watched his big pretty wings, slowly folding open and shut, I seemed to realize that there was something in the strong eager life of this creature that forbade his destruction; and so I made a resolution in my mind that he could stay or go as he pleased – I would would not desecrate the power that had made it possible for green worm to conceal itself in this weblike base_, and come forth later, a different a winged creature. I put my finger in front of him, and he crawled upon it, tickling it with his little feet. Presently I let him crawl upon the lace curtains, up which he crawled a few inches and then he paused, both wings quivering. Mother