My sister held the mantis too, watching the creature turn its perfect triangle head back and forth. It wasn’t defensive or afraid, and explored our hands and the flowers awhile before we released it in a safer spot.

A last few moments from right before we left. These rolling hills weren’t ours, but a place we loved and walked in all seasons. A place you could hear woodcocks in spring, and see deer tracks in snow. May the hawks and vultures soar here forever.