To see a world in a grain of sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour
William Blake

Each of us settles into his own thoughts and tries to comprehend the Disney-like surroundings of this enchanted Oyamel fir forest. There is not a dry eye in the bunch. Butterflies are everywhere, the world drenched to vision's limit. In a state of semidormancy they festoon branches, shingle trunks, and carpet the ground in shivering multitudes. Others, waking from winter's sleep, fill the air with clouds of black and orange confeti, sparkling like stained glass in rays of sunlight, shimmering across the azure sky. A more religious person would call this time and place holy, or blessed. I could not agree more.

Memories pile up one on top of the other, but one stands out. I will never forget the sound of monarchs in flight. Yes, the sound of butterfly wings, a muffled tap-tap, like some faraway evolutionary drumbeat. It happened in Fantasyland, when I held infinity in the palm of my hand.

 

Look carefully at this photo and you will see a hundred thousand butterflies!