Butterflies

A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it. -George Moore

I walked into a fairy tale the other day. I went for a hike with Cash and Jeff into one of the mountains along a trail made seemingly of old rail ties. There was not a single bird in the entire place, only hundreds of butterflies. As we started our ascent we were surrounded by groups of yellow butterflies that gradually turned into groups of black butterflies as we got higher and the light grew dimmer. We emerged into a pavilion that looked out on the ocean and the mountains in all their glory, made more powerful by the contrast with the dark mountain woods. As we began our descent down the other side, the butterflies changed to dark emerald and blue and were much larger than their yellow and black brethren. But as we got further down the other side, they turned again into the yellow butterflies that had welcomed us initially. It was very surreal.