March 27, 2026, Friday Morning: Emergence

The morning light made me feel lighter. Just because of that, I went out into the garden. I swept up fallen leaves and slowly pulled out the weeds that had grown large. When I crouched down and got close to the soil, I noticed something hanging under the veranda.

At first, I thought it was something caught in a spider web. But it was moving slightly. Not from the wind, not from an insect, but with a slower movement. When I squinted, I saw a brown chrysalis and wings spreading as if oozing out from it. A swallowtail butterfly was in the very act of emerging.

I have yuzu and sudachi trees at home. Swallowtail larvae and chrysalises are a familiar sight. By summer, three or five of them fly about. Still, I was a little surprised today. It is only March. But that surprise quickly turned into a quiet realization that spring was already just around the corner.

I watched for a while, but eventually left the spot. When I remembered and returned a few hours later, only the empty chrysalis shell remained.

Looking at the shell left behind after it had flown away, I found myself wishing. I hope it flies around energetically. I hope it meets a partner and leaves offspring. I hope it lays eggs on the yuzu leaves and emerges here again next year. I wasn't sure if that was just my affection for my own garden, or if I was projecting something else onto it. I just stared at that small, empty shell for a while, gently.