So tiny. Smaller than a thumbnail. So meticulously constructed. Abandoned after a year of storage on the wires of a bird feeder. It’s like a miniature pottery vase, maybe from some ancient insect civilization, if you consider a year to be ancient. But then, perhaps to an insect that IS ancient history.
I found it today, marveled at the workmanship crafted undoubtedly by a paper wasp. I’m grateful for this glimpse on a different level altogether of the world in which I live. Paper Wasp from last year, Ancient Egyptian from 3100 BC, Hopi potter from 1300. When I look at nature, as Thoreau suggests, at the level of the tiniest leaf or from the vantage point of an insect, those worlds are not so different.