When I Grow Old and Wear the Bottom of My Trousers Rolled: My Favourite Haunt

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I
grow old.. I grow old…

I
shall wear the bottom of my trousers rolled

T.S.
Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

Hmmm, is there an upside
to being change averse?

I am creature of habit.
Always have been, but that character trait becomes more prominent as I get
older. I will concede that this tendency is not always healthy. I do not want better. It did not need to be
improved. I want it the same as it was yesterday. That refrain plays
regularly in my mind. But for better or worse, I have made peace with who I am
and how I approach life.

As an unapologetic
nature geek, I have settled on a handful of locations for my summer ramblings. My
favourite haunt is a little known, out-of-the-way conservation area that is lightly
used and a haven for the winged wonders I worship. Let me take you on a tour of
my glory spot.

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Tour
Stop 1: The track from
the parking lot. Just an entry point for most, but I linger along that stretch
knowing that the weedy edges will be alive with dime-sized grass Skippers hopscotching from plant to
plant. Orange flashes of light overlooked by most, I eagerly seek them out.

Tour
Stop 2: The footpath
through the meadow. I keep my eyes peeled for an elusive Coral Hairstreak while admiring Green
Darners, Crescents and assorted
small Skimmers.

Tour
Stop 3: Past the
first swamp pond, I focus on the path to spot the hiding-in-plain sight Comma butterflies whose dead leaf
camouflage I have attuned myself to detect. A 
Question Mark for sure,
probably an Eastern and, if I am
lucky, a Gray or Green.

Tour
Stop 4: The hot
corner where the trail forks. This unassuming, sunny spot adjacent to another
swamp pond seems to be a convergence point where butterflies and dragonflies
alike come to converse and frolic. I am always hoping for a repeat of the Fiery Skipper that appeared here several
years back well north of its usual range.

Tour
Stop 5: The small
creek by the bridge. My reliable spot in early summer for an always stirring Spiketail – a Twin-spotted or Arrowhead,
but a Delta-spotted is also possible.

Tour
Stop 6: The hidden
swamp pond. I pick my way through the brambles to yet another swamp pond known
to me. Guaranteed to be a hive of activity with a dozen or more dragonflies
cruising over the pond. If I am lucky, a Painted
Lady may be waiting for me there.

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Tour
Stop 7: The sloping
trail through the woods. A stop to scan the area where the Dreamy Duskywing showed up is a must as is pausing at each sunny
glade to commune with its residents. Staying alert the whole way for any number
of blue mosaic Darners.

Tour
Stop 8: Side path near
the top of the hill. Bushwacking through tall grass in the tiny meadow. A Roadside Skipper may put in an
appearance here along with a Great
Spangled Fritillary. In mid to late summer, the drooping tree branches can
be laden with Darners.

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Heading
Home: By 3:30, I have
retraced my steps to the parking lot perhaps adding a Comptons Tortoiseshell  or Racket-tailed Emerald to my day list.

When I grow old and wear
the bottom of my trousers rolled and I can longer hike these hallowed trails, I
will retrace them countless times in in my mind. Remembering every curve,
hollow and sunny glade with crystal clarity. Still extracting metaphors of life
from their bounty.

~  Now Available Online
from Amazon, Chapters Indigo or Barnes & Noble: Hunting Muskie, Rites of
Passage – Stories by Michael Robert Dyet

~ Michael Robert Dyet is also
the author of Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel which
was a double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s
website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com .

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