Larva morphs to caterpillar, hatching, devouring flower. She rolls, falls, and then catches on a flower near Prick Lily’s trunk.īegins the magic of instantaneous re-chrysalis – the domain of Calico alone. Instantly, she shrivels to a larva, no bigger than a dot. Grieve only that they no longer feel life’s glory.’ She drops onto Lily’s arm. They live on in those for whom they cared. She lights upon Sister Lily’s cheek and flutters one last time.Ĭalico whispers, but all desert creatures hear her. Creatures cannot tell so lost they are in their reverie.Ĭalico now is dying – a butterfly’s natural death. This all may last a minute, or five, or maybe an hour. They barely see Lily because so many of the paraders encircle her. They’re certain the world has chosen only them to savor its beauty.īutterflies’ flutters thunder louder than any herd of horses. ‘If only we can keep these feelings forever’ they think. The critters feel they are swept up into it, swaying gaily, airborne within the hues. They are fanned by the cool flutters as the promenade surrounds Prick Lily. Calico leads hundreds of thousands, maybe a million butterflies. The sky becomes awash with colors, yellows, ambers, reds. What all the critters spent the year anticipating BEGINS. For those lost in the desert, parched by torturous heat, she provides sustenance by easing the sharpness of lower prickers, allowing them to gouge trunk to suckle her liquid. If humans wagon by, they stop and look in awe of her majesty. Stray bulls might charge Lily to challenge her desert dominance – but only once. ALL must gather for sunset vigil with others of their kind…’ Lily achieves near harmony among her subjects through her fanciful mix of cowgirl frivolity and Solomon edicts: ‘Coyote territory – north of me wild hogs, south all insects are fair game to salamander, and sal, for snakes snakes for birds of prey – but only if those doing the preying rely first on the dying for their diet. She collates, stores all interprets and disperses desert sage. Passing leaves, migrating birds, deliver news plants, other cacti, relay messages.
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Creatures convey to Queen Lily their most private thoughts. Most are timid, like lizards and armadillos, but also copperheads, coyotes, Gila monsters.
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‘As the heat Orb shines his brightness and the night Goddess honors us with a daytime audience, come all! Gather for the royal procession that will transform our desert – into – our Paradise kingdom.’Ĭreatures stream across the sand to Lily. I ‘xpect you’ll be the one to lead em all in.’Ĭalico affirms with the flit of a wing, then flies off, to beyond the horizon. Spider-webbings royally cloak Lily’s shouldersĬalico perks antennae.
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No one can ever be jaded to butterfly magic.Ĭreatures of the desert sand will witness a parade few humans can imagine. The hundreds of Calicos – they swoop down and light upon Lily – then become one Calico again. Wouldn’t miss it.’ Her beam streaks the blue sky, touches, and holds Poppy’s warm ray tightly. She gleams to a just-as-anxious Poppy Sol. Luny Mum suddenly seems to glow above the desert, making a rare, full, daytime appearance. Their lacey antennae-like pistils are her sense-sound receivers.Ĭalico becomes – hundreds of butterflies – and her shifting colors bewitch all who see. Lavender petals, the shape of fine porcelain dishes, and, just as delicate, forever blossom on Lily. Critters, plants and varmints of the territory, their sensations, preened from millenniums of nature’s honing, absorb her vibrations. It’ll be a rip-roarin’, rootin’-tootin day deep in the heart of Teharoo.’ Lily’s emanations spring forth from her prickers, thousands of tuning fork transmitters. She doffs white, ten-gallon – Doves sail. The gulf breeze tips Prick Lily’s forever-upright arms. Lily emanates,‘Yes! The Great Desert Pilgrimage. On this day, at this hour, for thousands of years, never interrupted.’ My heart flutters like Calico, A Foundling’s Gentlest FriendĪs magical as Lily’s communion, is Calico’s reply from off in the desert.