By Michael Shook
As I write this, first spring and now summer have unfolded in a lovely manner. June was a delight, with some sunny days breaking up the deliciously cool and cloudy ones that were at times even a bit moist. The rhododendrons both on the Island and off seem to have bloomed particularly well.
I thought it might just be my observation (or imagination – and good luck?) that somehow I got everything right this year, and hit the jackpot on the weather as well, but other rhodie fans I’ve spoken with remarked upon the same phenomenon. Spring of last year was more than tolerable as well, in terms of rainfall, but the combination of frequent wet days and too much heat caused some blossom wilt on several favourite rhodies. Nothing like it this year. They came on wonderfully.
Apart from the excellent weather and bloom, June also presented me with an entirely unexpected gift, that of a dragonfly’s company. I was sweeping off the patio on the south side of the house, and noticed a beautiful blue-eyed darner swooping about.
I said “howdy” to it, as it is my custom and pleasure to carry on conversations with the creatures and forms I share this place with (including, of course, the trees, rocks, dirt, sky, and water). One-sided though the talking at times might be, I appreciate that all are good listeners and don’t appear to mind my rants, rambles, and repetition.
As to the dragonfly, to my surprise and delight, it landed on my shirtfront, just below my sternum. I remained still, while gazing upon it for some moments, afraid it would take flight before I could get my fill of its splendor. But it seemed quite content to rest where it was. “Well,” I finally said, “I have to get on with my sweeping. Adios, and take care.”
I moved a little, thinking it would take off. Nothing doing. Gingerly, I put a finger under it, to shoo it away, but instead of taking flight, it climbed onto my finger, got a good grip, and settled down. I raised my finger up to eye level and looked carefully at the beast. I’ve never been so close to one, at least not one that was alive.
It was looking at me, too, which actually would have been impossible for it not to do, since dragonflies’ bulbous frontal globular “eyes” have about 30,000 “facets” – simple, individual eyes – and they can see a full 360 degrees. Not surprisingly, most of their insect brainpower is devoted to processing what must be a staggering amount of visual information, taking in up to 200 images a second. For comparison, a human eye can take in a maximum of 60 images per second.
We looked at each other for several minutes. On this occasion, I felt it advisable not to speak. I’ve had butterflies land on me, petted bees, nearly been run over by a herd of elk, and been buzzed by hummingbirds. And once, when camped for three days in one place, an audacious chipmunk would regularly run up my back and sit atop my head, undeterred by my actions as I moved about the site. Perhaps he liked it as an observation post? But a dragonfly has never graced me so with its presence, and the momentous quality of the event moved even me to silence.
I swung my hand slowly this way and that, the better to look at the intricate patterns on its abdomen (the “tail”), the whole of the thing being quite stunning – huge blue eyes, translucent and broad wings, all of the body decorated with striking displays of blue stripes and roughly square patterns, set off by a black and brown background.
I can’t imagine what it was thinking. Perhaps I represented a different sort of moving, warm-blooded perch to rest upon. Or was it possible that the creature found me, in my human-ness, as interesting to look at as I found it to be? Doubtful. Maybe it was just tired, and I was the first thing handy. Whatever the case, both of us appeared reluctant to end the encounter.
At last, I walked slowly to the styrax tree at the edge of the patio, and held my finger near a leafy branch. The dragonfly clambered off me and onto a leaf. I backed away, still watching, and after another moment, it lifted off, hovered briefly, and zoomed away.
Such beauty in the world! It has never failed to move me, to throw me out of myself, and leave me both astonished and grateful. Here was what some might consider a lowly insect, or at least a common one – large as most insects go, but small in the scheme of other living things. Yet, it is a creature possessed of great beauty, as well as amazing physical attributes.
In addition to their visual abilities, which include seeing UV light, dragonflies can fly up to 35 mph, hover, go backwards, and fly upside down. Does their coloration, ecstatic in its blue-ness, aid in hunting? I can’t see how. I suppose one might think it for mating, but the females are nearly identical.
Which causes me to wonder – is it possible that the forms on this earth, that the earth itself and all that is in it, on it, and around it, are beautiful simply for beauty’s sake? I would like to think so. That has certainly been my experience, and my interpretation. Yes, there is the pure beauty inherent in the dragonfly’s function, but that does not explain the other aspects of its splendor.
Is there a creator at work, besides evolution? And can anyone say that evolution either precludes or excludes God, or beauty, or both?
I don’t suppose it really matters. It’s enough to be a part of it, and enough to say, how delightful!
