Becoming a Butterfly

Having spent a gray Sunday sitting by the fire composing 14 blog posts to nourish and entertain you while I pack and travel to Guyana this coming Saturday (eek!), I have to say it's tough to balance real-time events (like Liam's birthday, like my October trips to Boston, Hartford and Chicago--poof, gone with the wind!) with measured and carefully composed posts like these. For instance, I just found a treasure trove of photos from the Washington County Fair back in September that I must share with you soon; they are too wonderful to let languish in the files. The same goes for a bunch of Halloween pictures that make me quack out loud.

There's just too darn much going on around here to blog like a grasshoppa. If you want real-time twittery stuff, you're in the wrong place, mah friends.

Anyway, you get what you pay for, and you eat what I'm servin', right? (Slams plate down on table).

Thanks for all the birthday wishes for Liam! He read them before leaving for school this morning and almost bounced onto the bus, riding it as a nine-year-old for the first time. He had said he wasn't so sure he liked being nine, but I promised him I would still treat him like my little Shoomie when he was 9 or 25, and that seemed to help.

We're back to enjoying the ecdysis of the Artist Formerly Known as Combo. When last we left him, he was looking miiiighty transparent, and I was yakking on the phone with my mother, helping pass the time in my five-hour vigil, when I noticed a bulge at the chrysalis' bottom.

With a hurried explanation, I hung up on Mom, who understood. I'd always missed the ecdysis before; it had happened too fast for me to see or record. But Combo took his time, and how sweet it was to see him slowly emerge.



Unnnhhh...must...get...antennae...free...
When does the chrysalis end and the butterfly begin? Here?Here, when the great swollen abdomen flops out of its case?

Here, when the proboscis pulls free and begins to coil?
Here, when the wings suddenly begin to expand?

The new butterfly swivels on its legs, swings in the breeze, its abdomen unwieldy, heavy with fluids meant for the crumpled wings. To fall now might mean the butterfly's death. Hang on, Combo.
Contained so tightly for so long, the wings expand like sponges soaking up water.
Its abdomen expands and contracts as it pumps blood and fluids through the long black veins of its new wings.
The wings unrumple and grow before my eyes; every blink brings a change.
The chrysalis, once opaque and green, is no more than a discarded cellophane wrapper.
The butterfly scrabbles for a hold on the twig, its strong hooked feet clinging surely as the wind buffets it. To fall now would be to die, injuring its wings and rendering them useless for flight. The expanding wings must be held clear of all obstructions until they are bright and hard. It swivels until it gets all four legs (the front two are reduced to pedipalps) on something. It's taking no chances.
Every gust bends its wings to and fro. Still it pumps fluids, and still they grow larger. The wings are almost full size now, but a half hour from emergence, they are still wet and soft, unable to bear weight, to open or close.
Finally, they are fully expanded. Still, they are so wet that a breath of air bends them, and I see the brilliant cinnabar upper surface. This is a rare shot, for they will never again be this flexible. All of this has happened in the span of perhaps thirty minutes. Quick, as miracles go.I am nervous enough about this newly minted creature now to bring it back inside, to the kitchen table, so its wings may dry and it may rest, untroubled by wind or predators, for the next four hours.

Tomorrow, we fly!