Yesterday before doing some solo flying, Mike and I flew up to Sycamore (the flight school's mechanic's grass strip) to deliver an airplane part they needed. I got to try another soft/short field landing, and we delivered the part. He's got a nice setup out there. I wouldn't mind living somewhere like that — in a house out away from town, on a field bordered by forest, with a grass strip and a few hangars attached to your house.

I taxied out to the end of the strip and prepared to take off again. As I was running through my checklist, a butterfly floated up out of the taller grass bordering the airstrip. I thought to myself what a pleasant setting this was, and just sat and watching the buttefly for a bit, enjoying the peaceful moment.

And then the butterfly fluttered straight into my propeller and disappeared in a puff of yellow. :(