pasejant Miss Tommy

7:30, a walk in the park, walking miss Tommy. Alltogether no place to sit on wet grass but finally made it to finish my book. Next!

During the previous walk something amazing called my attention, it was all these trees covered in something like spiderwebs.
I took my camera this morning. I carefully approached the infested tree. What do I see? Cuques de seda!. They reminded me of these silk worms.

In my story of adopted insects I got carried away from a fashion to own these "silk worms".
We used to nurse them in show boxes. Then they would create a web and eventually turn into butterflies. I guess parents allowed us to own them so we could have a close experience with metamorphosis. I was so amazed by them that in my school assignment for the science project I created a play-doh model of their different stages. The ones I am going to show are probably not them, but I was so magnetized by the image the previous day I had to register it:





Tommy was getting anxious to play, I went to the doggies area and let him catch the ball, over, over and over again until he was tired. How many times do you have to run behind a ball until you get tired? The day before he gave up quick, the ground was dry and the area more crowded with other dogs that wanted to steal the ball away, but this time, with the morning fresh grass, the breeze and all that space for him alone he seemed to have some backup energy.

Deducing: << The time it takes to ge tired to run after a ball that keeps being thrown away from you hangs in direct relation to the circumstances.>>
At some point, we will get tired. Or after catching some air we won't pick up with the same excitement.



The fresh morning breeze and the sun on eye level, the visit to the worms, the dog always running after the ball... It all became a microuniverse in open space. Alone, and still with a slight slumbery feeling, smoothed by an incipient breeze.
I sat on the foot of an old knotty tree, held my hair, hid inside my coat and daydreamt while breathing the fresh grass morning scent.
On the lake shore, not far away from me, a metamorphosis had begun. For the sake of those worms, a tree will suffer. What do we turn into? Can we hide in a coccoon and come back with new powers? Some can. Can we settle in a tree without damaging it? (well, I have an answer for that, look at Mother Earth). Is it all about being able to build a cocoon, and take some time? Or will the gardening department come and spray you away?

Today's feelings: It's a location. Currently in Barcelona. Full stomach and reuniting my identity here. A warm feeling of belonging.
More about Barcelona to come.