We climbed 2,000 ft above the valley floor for a lunch near a babbling brook just before it became airborne and plunged over a cliff. As we talked, a Blue butterfly landed on Bobbie's hand. It stayed for a long while as she admired it's beauty and the fact that no matter what she did it was not flustered and didn't fly away. We broke out the magnifying glass and marveled at the intricate pattern and design it bore. We know that there is no coincidence. We quit believing in coincidence a long time ago so it was easy to marvel and enjoy the experience of this beautiful creature. The butterfly stayed with Bobbie the whole time as she packed up and laced her boots, only flying off for seconds before coming back and communing with her.
Another butterfly, this one a type of Skipper, then landed on my hand and we had the same experience all over again. He stayed on my hand for a long time and only when I hoisted my pack did he leave for a few seconds only to return and land on my shoulder where it rode with me down the mountain. It did not leave until we entered shady woods, flew around a little and waited on a rock until we left.
Fall has come to the high mountains and our shadows are noticeably longer. It came very quickly, the night before last, on North winds, and brought snow to the mountains and heavy rain to the valley below. As we hiked up along the moraine of the Glacier Noir the air was crisper, the grasses were browner and the Marmots were busier. The campground has suddenly become more empty and as we warm ourselves by a small campfire we can hear the strains of guitar and flute coming from a group not to far away and our conversation turns to the warmth of the Mediterranean and our journey back to Paris and home and family and friends who we miss dearly.
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