Praise then darkness, and creation unfinished

Walking back from Rancatore's yesterday, I spotted a butterfly (or maybe moth) that was partway through emerging from the pupa case. It was hanging from the stone wall of an underpass at about my eye level: rich browns and blacks, no movement yet but fully formed wings. We stood and looked at it for a moment, then went on.

(At Ranc's, I had a hot fudge sundae made with pistachio and sweet cream ice creams; good sundae except the bowl was too small, making it hard to get fudge and ice cream together. A hot day, but tolerable: we rested in the shade in a neglected-looking gazebo on the way there, and on a bench in front of a church on the way back. My knees were fine with that, hill and all, but are getting unhappy at the need to go up and down stairs here.)

Bumblebees are soft.