周六的峡谷气温高达七八十度。走在万里晴空没有一丝云彩的阳光里，听山风掠过树梢旷野，想起一两个星期前的寒冷和阴雨绵绵，想起曾经天空上如白雪般堆积的云朵，不仅感叹大自然的变化多端，想起人们常说的云卷云舒......

 

世间没有事情是一成不变的，万事万物都在变化中。而美更是转眼即逝的，如同眼前的春景。再过一个月，满山的绿色褪去，留给我们的又将是无边的荒芜和贫瘠。所谓，好花不常开，好景不常在。

 

2019年的春天是个花开遍野的春天，前所未有的春景引来了成千上万迁徙中的蝴蝶在此歇息停足，它们贪婪地吮吸着花蜜，为着前面的征途做准备。据报道，蝴蝶会在迁徙途中传宗接代，一代接着上一代完成从起点到终点的使命。

 

人在某种程度上不也像这匆匆而过的蝴蝶，终是这世间的过客。

 

两个人的爬山走着走着就觉得开始乏味起来，遂开始怀念起从前的队伍，帅哥美女欢哥笑语，那时的热情，让我们从这座山翻越到山那边，一直到海边，来回十几英里。现在两个人，走走停停，乏悶之余，某人略带自嘲地说笑着，"男女搭配，爬山不累，夫妻爬山，想想就累"。

 

独乐乐不如众乐乐。

 

而天下没有不散的筵席。幸福欢乐正因为短暂而让人怀念，让人不能忘怀。

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Driving locally on the early Saturday morning heading towards the lab for the annual blood examine, I saw leaflets, small and brownish, swirling in the air. How come the leaves are falling in the spring time? Perplexed, I peered through the window when the car was stopped at the red light. When it dawned on me that they were the butterflies, I couldn’t help wondering at the rare sight, where swarming butterflies flying by hundreds in the midair across the street.

The line at the lab was way too long and moved at a snail pace.  After waiting for about 15 minutes, I decided not to waste my Saturday morning time there.  I have better places to go, I told myself.

The sun was beaming down relentlessly upon the valley. The temperature was around 70-80 F. Warm wind rustled over the trees and the grass. The valley was in its green, with blooming flowers, purple, yellow and orange studded or clustered here and there. In the distance, the snow-crested mountain tops were basking in the sun, reminding us that winter is still within sight.

He and I hiked in the trail, immersing ourselves in the valley beauty. Reaching the top, we greedily took in the view, knowing that this kind of scenery is never ever-lasting. Soon the flowers will be withering, grass dying and the lush green fleetingly giving way to deadly scene of drought.  We did not hike far, as the heat and dry wind deterred us. On the way back, we were both reminiscent of the old days when the team hiked on the same trail but extended our footprint to the other side of the mountain, to the beach, a round-trip of more than ten miles. Gone are the days when the enthusiasm could carry us far and wild, when the laughter and fun are only to miss.

By the time we were about to find our parked car, we saw patches of yellow flowers on the loop and decided to take a final look. Surprisingly, we caught sight of butterflies, many of them, sucking at the blooming flowers. They must be the ones I saw on the early morning street.  The fluttering butterflies prompted him to take out his big camera to capture the colorful patterns, and our later online research proved that they are Painted Lady butterflies migrating by millions from Mexico to Pacific Northwest. It is the unprecedented super bloom that makes them stop by the once-barren land.