One fall my grandsons gathered cocoons they found in a swamp. The boys hung the dry, unattractive, and motionless objects in a cool place for the winter. The following spring they moved the cocoons to a place in the warm sun. Soon there emerged from the tomb of one cocoon a gorgeous creature —a luna moth, gracefully unfolding its drying wings in readiness to take its flight into the sky. Its colors were indescribable, and it was unspeakably graceful in its unhurried stretching and folding of its delicate wings.