My 07/22/25 postcard captures a bagworm suspended by a single thread, its cocoon of leaves and silk swaying gently in the breeze. A rough bundle of life, it blends so well into the background that most passersby would never notice, but once you spot one, you see them everywhere. Along Campus Boulevard, next to Onate Hall, the trees were full of them, hundreds of tiny, silent architects hanging from the branches like ornaments. It’s a quiet kind of marvel, built from instinct, patience, and whatever bits the world offers.
