If you ever happen to pass by Sanfu Street in Chingmei on the outskirts of Taipei, look up the butterfly lady. Everyone on the street knows her, and she'll be glad to show you her butterflies. But she probably won't sell you any. Making butterflies is her hobby and her joy.

What does this butterfly lady look like? Actually, she's an old lady of sixty-five who, believe it or not, tips the scales at over two hundred pounds. Yet she can make a graceful ninety-degree bow, and her blood pressure is as low as a young girl's. The most striking thing about her appearance is her sparkling black eyes. Chinese people say that they are like a pair of tadpoles swimming in a rice field or like black pearls shining in a casket. Everyone knows her as "Mama Lin," but years ago she gave herself a pen name "Ho Ju," literally meaning "How"? Her maiden name back in Fukien Province where she was born was Ho Su-ju, and "Ho Ju" is derived from that.

It would be a mistake to think that butterflies are Mama Lin's sole hobby. She can whistle; she likes popular western music; she writes poems; she composes and sings her own songs; she gardens; she practises calligraphy, she hikes, climbs mountains and visits friends. Sometimes she helps her husband Lin Fu-chuan run his tea shop. Sometimes she muses about her third son still held behind China's iron curtain, or more happily, of her other children who escaped from the mainland and have now established their own families.

Before getting to her butterflies, it is worthwhile to mention that she has written over ten songs that are favorites of those who know them. In "Memory" she tells her own story and expresses her nostalgia for her native place and her lost relatives. "The Ghost Festival" tells of her bitterness when she thinks of her parents and their sad death. In "Sounds of the Bugle" she extols the young men willing to give their lives for the country. She also writes light pieces such as "Selling Fried Bean Curd.''

Mama Lin ascribes her preoccupation with butterflies to her childhood and to the fact that about six years ago she suffered a bad sprain which immobilized her for a while. In her childhood, her father, a missionary, spent a great deal of time away from home. She stayed at home raising flowers and bees with her mother. Close to nature, she learned to observe all the marvelous varieties of butterflies and their ways. When she had to be quiet six years ago, she first took a pair of scissors and cut out a single butterfly. Gradually she moved on to create pairs or even a whole string of butterflies from a single sheet of paper. As she became a veteran butterfly cutter, she was able to create lifelike butterflies of which she knows the real names and also some others of her own creation. "Some of my butterflies are real; some are forgeries; some have a bit of mixed blood in them," she laughs.

Kindergarten and primary school teachers who have seen Mama Lin at work marvel at her inspiration and method. She seems to have pictures of butterflies imprinted on her mind, and she can take any piece of paper and decide the size and species of the butterfly she will do without any hesitation. As the years have passed she has added frogs, canoes, Easter lilies and even rockets to her repertoire. Wherever she goes, she takes along a pair of scissors, delighting adults and children alike with her creations. Despite her skill with other items, butterflies remain her favorite. When she begins to doze off watching TV or is tired from a long day's journey, she turns to butterflies to ease the way for a restful night.

What does Mama Lin do with her butterflies? Some she frames; others she presses under the table glass, quite a few are pasted on the wall for guests to gape at; tiles, colored papers, and photo albums provide a resting place for others. Many are encased in plastic envelopes and put away carefully in paper boxes. When children come to visit, she bring out her boxes and turns her house into a butterfly world for them. Mama Lin likes to tell the story that one day she spread some of her gorgeous masterworks on her bed to be sorted. Suddenly, some real butterflies flew in the window and mingled with her paper ones. There were so many she could not tell the real ones from the paper ones, finally, dazed with delight, she gently waved her visitors out of the window.

Such a woman as Mama Lin does not exist without a philosophy. She says, "My philosophy is to keep my heart as pure as a child's and to do whatever needs to be done. I can behave as an adult, but I can also play like a child. Some cynics laugh at me and call me a childish old woman. Let them. I hate those people who think of nothing but 'face.' When there is trouble, I meet it and laugh it away. There is no use hiding trouble in your heart."

Mama Lin is grateful that she has an understanding husband and a happy family life. "Happiness keeps us young," she says. "As long as we have confidence, we can create fun in life. Vitality and imagination spring from a well-organized and meaningful life. I don't have to have mahjong, gossip or mindless shopping to keep me happy. Scissors and paper and all my other joys are enough." She nods her head and says, "Let me tell you a secret. As you near seventy years of age, you must go back to childhood to find your sources of strength. That's what I think."

What about the future? "Oh, I shall do more of the same - cut butterflies, garden, sing songs, read poems, visit my friends, all those other things I told you earlier. Life should be simple and pleasant, and I intend to keep mine that way."

Butterfly Lady.

Butterfly Lady.

Butterfly Lady.

Butterfly Lady.