At the brocante in Carpentras, I stumbled across these gorgeous displays of butterflies and other insects. I never learned how old they were but the specimens were spectacular.
I wanted so badly to bring one home but I decided such fragile beauty would never survive even a carry-on plane ride back to the states. I would have been devastated to unpack one upon return only to find that they had crumbled to dust.
I’m writing this in honor of my son Oliver, whose birthday is today. He has always loved bugs — all kinds, big and small, flying or crawling. He collects them and has even been known to eat some. Except spiders, he’s not a fan of spiders. Ask him a question about any insect and he knows incredible detail about where and how they live, what they eat, what eats them. How he keeps that knowledge in his head astounds me. But he has a passion for bugs, so that explains it.
He made these two collections for me, one with butterflies and the other a beautifully detailed collection of dragonflies, for which I have a special affinity. Each time I see them I marvel at the precision involved, the symmetry and iridescence of the wings, and how much time he must have painstakingly spent placing each and every specimen to get it just right.
They are a work of art and a thing of beauty. Just like him. Happy Birthday, Oliver. Love you like a bug.