For many Michiganders--and other persons around the world--fishflies or mayflies are simply a nuisance. Every year they arrive here on the shores of Lake St. Clair for a few weeks in late June and early July. Trillions of them. Their only job is to mate, which they do in mid-air. Since their digestive tract is nonfunctional, they only live for a matter of hours, or in some cases, days. Fishflies don't bite or sting but they do cling, and that seems to freak out lots of folks. At night, they also gravitate towards any source of light, so street lamps and car headlights are often fuzzy with fishflies. Since they die so quickly, roadways become covered with slick piles of their carcasses, making driving a bit hazardous.

As I say, for most people, the fishfly season is a royal pain. But not for me. And why is that, you ask? Because 30 years ago I had the privilege of getting to know an individual fishfly, and as with any group prejudice, that intimate encounter helped me see each one's uniqueness and beauty. I was an art student at what was then called the Center for Creative Studies in Detroit. Richard Jerzy, my watercolor instructor, encouraged us to bring in our own subjects to paint. So on a hot day in late June 1977, I decided to bring in a fishfly. Well, this individual sat perfectly still on the corner of my desk for three solid hours while I completed a detailed watercolor portrait of him/her. When I was done, she/he flew away. How about that for an accommodating model! That painting is framed and hangs on the wall of our first floor lavatory, so I see it almost every day. And I always send gratitude to the fishfly who spent three of its precious hours on earth posing for this student artist.

Today, on the second day of fishfly season 2007, my husband Ed encouraged me to take a macro shot of a fishfly. So here is one more fishfly who will be remembered as an individual. Isn't he/she beautiful?