Long ago, as a wee one, I was bitten by the forest bug, the farming bug, the herbalist bug, the homesteading bug. And, really, on its surface, it isn't pretty.
Unless, of course, you harbor a fondness for lopsided wings, occasionally gooey excrements, sticky webs, and far too many eyes and legs for comfort.
But its colors...and how it lights up, flies by the sun, weaves by the moon. It chirps and calls and ends the day harkening warm animal life to your wool-stockinged feet.
It is a thing to behold.