Of Moths & Hot Messes

There are animals that make you want to dig up Darwin and ask, “are you sure? Like, sure, sure?”

This moth is one of them.

I don’t know what the rosy maple is trying to blend in with — a cotton candy machine? A Grateful Dead concert? A clown car? — but it’s not the woods of eastern North America, where it’s commonly found.

(Leopard moth)

Despite being unbelievably late to the moth event — I missed the place in the email that told me not to put the name of the park in my GPS but to use a particular address instead, so I drove around southern Maryland for a couple of hours, looking for the right location, distressed, ashamed at having invited a friend to an event that I wasn’t even showing up for, mourning my cat, full of adrenaline — the very picture of a hot mess, in other words — my friend Jennifer was incredibly forgiving. And the moths were astounding. And the other people there — many of whom were amateur or pro lepidopterists — were a hoot, quizzing each other on obscure knowledge but also freely sharing basic info on stuff like, “what is this thing and why has it adopted me and is it my BFF now?” (Jennifer was able to convince it to go back on a clip on the sheet.)

(hog sphinx)

It was a lucky break to have this event on the calendar on a difficult night.

In another lucky break, I’ve written a different essay about being a hot mess and grieving — and also two elephants named George and Angry Bob — and I’m thrilled to say that Shenandoah Literary Magazine has published it: https://shenandoahliterary.org/712/the-elephants-tiptoe/.

I’d love for you to check it out and let me know what you think in the comments.

In the meantime, have a wanderful week.