Double-Door Onion

In the deep shade west of our house I spread out this year's onion crop to dry and then put them into a tub to be carried to the basement. Because of an oversight (not mine, in this case), one tub of ready-to-store onions was left outside when we had more than one-half inch of overnight rain. I discovered the sad onions about five days later when the onions in the bottom had already begun to go bad. I dumped the whole mess into a big container with a perforated bottom and left them outside to drain and dry. As I encountered spoiled onions I set them aside on the ground beside the container (too lazy to carry them individually to the compost). It was one of these spoiled onions that made me wonder if I was losing my mind.

I went out to get a good onion to use in cooking and witnessed a large rotten onion on the ground periodically throwing open and then closing double doors in its side. Now the doors were folding out; now they were shut tight with only the crack between them showing. What on earth? Was this an onion-version variation on the tricks puff ball mushrooms are capable of--splitting open to release spores, in their case? I kept my eyes glued to the spot and walked toward the "live" onion. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light in the dense shade I identified a Question Mark butterfly on the side of the double-doored onion, periodically opening its wings in a brilliant deep orange and brown display of color, and then changing to a thin vertical line of brown when its wings were folded.

In my learn-all-I-can-about-butterflies phase I discovered that some butterflies have fairly disgusting feeding habits. Certain kinds are just as happy to feed on rotting fruit and animal droppings as flower nectar. I've seen Admirals in feeding orgies on the piles of horse manure in my friend's pasture. I'm told that they are extracting minerals from these unsavory sources. I don't object, but I may look askance at the next butterfly that comes and sits softly on my shoulder. No telling where this butterfly last landed.

Or maybe I'll settle for determinedly ignoring some of the information inside my head that tries to force itself to the fore, and I'll focus hard on the beauty of the "flying flowers" that add so much grace and beauty to summer days.

Who knew that the small disaster of the onions-left-in-the-rain would yield a treasure such as a techni-colored, animated double-doored-onion phenomenon? I'm glad the Question Mark butterfly "knew" without asking.