Birds, Books and Bourbon

Five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes. How do you measure a year in the life? (Seasons of Love, RENT). Whether one regards the fleeting life of a butterfly, the tragically limited years of a cherished pet, or the complicated highs and lows of a human lifetime, death is a natural part of all of it. I am currently trying to come to terms with that reality and contemplating what makes a life well lived.

Our deck garden this year produced a plentiful parsley harvest. One afternoon I noted two vibrant caterpillars munching away at the leaves and stems. The eastern black swallowtail (Papilio polyxenes), like all butterflies, lives a unique life made up of four stages – egg, caterpillar, chrysalis, and adult. Their small yellow eggs hatch in about seven days. The caterpillar larvae transform from a teeny black with white “saddlebag” first instar, to the vibrant green with black stripes and yellow spots with its later instars over ten to thirty days. Their chrysalis or pupal stage spans eighteen days but may vary with temperature. After all this effort, the adult butterfly only lives about two weeks.

One of the caterpillars found a safe spot underneath the siding and formed its chrysalis. Emerging about two weeks later, the adult female with its prominent blue rows remained for a few hours gaining her strength before departing to begin her short last phase of life. I suspect that she made good use of that time, returning to lay her eggs on the same plant that gave her nourishment, as we are currently hosting about fifteen caterpillars (including a lazy caterpillar who formed its chrysalis on the plant). So, reproductively she succeeded in propagating her genetics and completing her purpose in life.

Our pets live longer lives than insects thankfully, though we heartbreakingly outlive the kind souls we share our hearts with. My heart cat, Cornell (Bisky, Biscuitville, Corn Biscuit, Corny, Cornell Brown Cat) – the sweetest, bravest, strongest little last remaining kitten of a feral litter I adopted in 2006, passed away last weekend after a tumultuous battle with kidney failure. Along with intensive care from his veterinarian and pet parents, against all odds, this fighter had pulled through three episodes of acute kidney injury last year. He flourished for another eight months before his one working kidney failed completely three months past his seventeenth birthday. Looking back on this year, I know it was precious time that we all had together, and I have no regrets on the extra effort his care required. I knew the time was not going to last indefinitely – in preparation we did a special photo shoot capturing all his heartthrob glory in May, demonstrating how good his quality of life was this year despite his age and terminal disease.

To raise a glass to my feline Cornell, I made one of the first cocktails I learned to make and enjoy, a New York cocktail (not to be confused with a NY Sour) and presented it in my Cornell Old Fashioned glass. I used Weldon Mills’ All Malt, their flagship bourbon. I made the grenadine by boiling a 50:50 pomegranate juice/ sugar mixture, though using a bottled grenadine will produce a brighter pink color.

Gather your ingredients: bourbon, grenadine, simple sugar, limes, cocktail shaker, rocks glass, jigger and teaspoon.

No books to highlight this week, though a woodpecker did join me in my quiet moment of reflection. Remember to cherish all your loved ones and hug them tight, whether furry or otherwise, and as always, please drink responsibly. 😻