A ladybug trapped in a puddle of condensation on the picnic table. On its back, legs working, wings trying to flip it right side up. I lowered my finger, its legs latched on for dear life, I raised it out of the water and flicked it into the grass.
I was near the open front door. A bee flew inside. A honeybee. Honeybees need to be outdoors doing their jobs so that the vegetables will flourish. I held up both my hands in a pushing position. The bee turned right around and flew out again.
A bumblebee caught between the glass and screen of the livingroom window. A water glass, a piece of paper: a bumblebee released to freedom.
A tiny spider rappelling toward the kitchen counter from the wall cabinet above. I caught her thread on my finger and took her, swinging in the breeze, to the shrubs outdoors.
A tiny green Jiminy Cricket in my sink. Caught in my hands, transferred to his natural habitat, the Great Outdoors.
If the Butterfly Effect is real, I might have played havoc with the entire universe this week.
