A Morning in Thrall
The dark chrysalis seemed to become more transparent by the minute. In the dull kitchen light of pre-dawn, I could see that the butterfly's legs had pulled away from the chrysalis side, leaving a whitish translucence behind.





A different, somewhat foreboding look at the miracle to be. It's a pod, alien yet familiar.

Finally, I called my mother, to while away the time and see how she was faring this fine autumnal morning. That did the trick. This is the last picture of Combo as a chrysalis.

I do apologize for not giving this to you in one big heaping bowlful. There are so many photographs in the sequence--dozens upon dozens-- that it would be a shame, a waste, a drag to put them all in one elephantine post. Besides, I want to give you some feeling for the kind of ---I detest this word, but I'm using it for fun---
stick-to-it-iveness
that it takes to follow an organism from egg to butterfly. Please don't ever quote me on this, OK? I fancy that I am not the kind of person who uses a word like
stick-to-it-iveness.
Then again, I never thought I would use emoticons in an email, or buy shirts for a dog.

Labels: metamorphosis, monarch butterfly, monarch emergence

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