The butterfly whisperer

Simone stood stock still, arms outstretched. Nothing. She sat down on the bench next to the feeder. She did not move a muscle. Nothing. "What are you doing?" B asked his mother. "I'm not moving so that the butterflies land on me," she explained. "The butterflies can land on you?" B opened and closed his mouth a few times then stood still, arms outstretched. One butterfly landed, its wings a spectacular hue of indigo. Then another butterfly, followed by a third one, this time on his finger

. Simone smiled. "The butterflies like you, B." He grinned as well, caught up in the spell of such tiny, fragile insects finding a haven on his arms.