Forecast: Transformation

On fuzzy caterpillars, folklore, and the winter within.

We were upstate two weekends ago when my husband nearly stepped on a tiny fuzzy black and rust banded caterpillar. He showed me where it was, hidden in a soft patch of grass on our front yard. It looked like a fat pipe cleaner. I quickly took notice—as I’m fond of (most) insects and fascinated by bugs—and picked it up for a closer look. Just a little wa…