The Miracle Continues

On the underside of an iris leaf, 

the small monarch chrysalis is changing daily. 

 It's a little darker today, with more definition.  

I can't wait.

Monarch Watch

Somehow in grade school, 

I missed the part where the students stand around a jar 

and watch a butterfly emerge from a cocoon, 

and I've always felt like my education wasn't quite complete.

So, a few years back, when I saw a monarch chrysalis attached to one of the flowers in our flowerbed, I was delighted to be positioned in the inner circle around the jar.  For several days, I watched the soft green cocoon, with its bright spots of shiny gold, until the small jewel became translucent, and the familiar black and gold of a monarch, though faint, began to show through.

We had to make a day trip out of town, and when we can back, the first thing I checked was the cocoon.  We were only gone the better part of one day, but during that time, the contents of the bright green and gold package had flown away, and all that remained was a limp, empty skin.

It wasn't until recently that I saw one again.  

Last week, six fat monarch caterpillars ate their way 

through the butterfly milkweed plant near the house...

When they were quite satiated, they made their way off, one by one.  

I located three of them later,

 hanging limp on the underside of leaves of nearby plants.

The transformation came overnight.

We woke in the middle of the night Thursday to the sound of pounding rain, 

and I wondered about those small green treasures,

but in the morning they were fine.

It's supposed to take about ten days for a butterfly to emerge,

and I have my calendar marked.

Stay tuned.

Linking with Weekly Top Shot

and Camera Critters

Daybreak

The morning is cool, and just before sunrise...

the big guys arrive for breakfast.

Yum!

They seem like good friends, 

but when the smaller one makes a move toward the big buck's food,

one look warns him to back off.

As early sunlight streaks across the grass,

it's breakfast time for the little ones, too.

The sun rises and they steal away...

then man goes out to his work,

to his labor until evening.

Psalm 104:21, 22

Transitions

It's early September, and already there are signs that things are changing.  

Wild grapes are starting to ripen, and overhead, 

blue-winged teal have passed in swift flight, heading for their winter home.

This time of year, many of our feathered visitors are fairly new to the world.  

A young red-bellied woodpecker balances with his stubby tail 

as his long tongue probes for treasures between the boards on our deck...

before contemplating the food in the feeder.

Newly fledged purple finches come singly and in groups.  

They seem unafraid; 

I nearly had to chase one away to fill the bird feeder yesterday.  

Their flight skills haven't been honed yet, 

and we root them on as they flutter in the air, trying to find a perch.  

Aren't landings tricky?

Young titmice find dozens of ways to entertain themselves...

and us.

These young birds will be here through the winter, but the hummingbirds are preparing for their long migration south.  They swarm the feeders, like teenagers at an iphone sale, the wind from their tiny wings rustling petals of the cleome below, and fanning our faces when we stand close.  They drink from the feeders and the surrounding flowers as if their life depended on it, which in fact it may; a third of them will be lost in their grueling upcoming flight over the ocean.

We'll miss their chatter and the hum of their wings, their brilliant flashes of color and startling animation.

In our changing world, it's good to know one constant.  The Savior who loves us and gave His life for us, is always true, and extends His mercy day after day, in every season.

For the Lord is good and His love endures forever;

His faithfulness continues though all generations.

Psalm 100:5





Linking with Wild Bird Wednesday