We all have a home

My home is a sturdy stack of bricks meant to last for decades.

But today, as I sweatily shoved my miserable mower through the mocking stalks of crabgrass, I discovered someone else's home -- a far more frail structure.

The last of the carrots at the edge of the garden -- their roots woody and inedible, their lacy tops still green -- have attracted a family of swallowtail caterpillars. Bright yellow and black, as they creep over the foliage they seem unaware of the coming winter, which will kill their food supply and destroy their adopted home. But their bodies know. Millennia of evolution have prepared them -- they will pupate in the leaf litter while winter does its worst, then unfold into butterflies in the spring.

Yes, I took a picture. I'll post it Monday.