In front of our house stands a lemon tree, and every season, butterflies are drawn by its scent to lay eggs and bring forth a new generation. However, each time the designer sees the eggs appear, it’s a bit of a dilemma—there’s joy in seeing the little creatures, yet our lemon tree is low and small, with not many leaves. Each caterpillar essentially devours all the leaves, but fortunately, the resilient lemon tree has survived against the odds over the years.

This year, the designer decided to adopt a nurturing approach, moving the hatched caterpillars into a box and personally selecting fresh leaves for them daily, hoping to make efficient use of every leaf.

The plan progressed smoothly, although the caterpillars consumed many leaves, nearly prompting the designer to search the streets for more. Suddenly one day, a caterpillar expelled a green fluid, then wandered around, seemingly ready to spin its cocoon. Unsatisfied with the wooden stick in the box, the designer relocated the caterpillar back onto the lemon tree, where it quickly found a spot to wrap itself into a cocoon by the afternoon. Our whole family eagerly awaited the day when the caterpillar would emerge as a butterfly.

But that day never came. The vibrant green cocoon turned dull and yellow; weeks and then a month passed, and it remained suspended on the branch. When the daughter inquired about the caterpillar’s emergence, the designer gently explained that this little caterpillar would not become a beautiful butterfly, but it could still aid next year’s caterpillars in growing. So, a few days ago, we removed the cocoon and buried it in the soil, hoping it would transform into spring nourishment, becoming part of the lemon tree and rejoining nature’s cycle. 🥺