A painted turtle slipped into the muddy water and, in a glinting flutter of wings, a metallic-blue dragonfly suspended itself for a moment in the sunshine before us, vibrantly alive, a glittering creature worlds away from the faded pinned specimen of the insect box that is a mere reminder of beauty that has vanished, a tarnished relic of something once surpassingly lovely.

Edwin Way Teale, North with the Spring