How soon will the chrysalis split? #phenology

We're not sure, but we think we may have set a personal best yesterday. We crossed, and re-crossed, the Father of Waters four times in three states. Starting in Wisconsin (East Bank), we crossed to Iowa at Lansing (West Bank). Then, from Hastings MN (West Bank) we crossed to Washington County (East Bank), then home. Late in the afternoon, we decided to visit our son, who lives in a suburb of Minneapolis on the West Bank so we crossed once going and once coming. Our very strong aversion to steel grid bridges (Lansing) hasn't diminished as we age.

today's monarch chrysalis (see the butterfly inside?)

Photo by J. Harrington

The monarch chrysalis remains full of developing butterfly. We thought, and feared, it would emerge while we were on vacation. Nope. It was waiting for us when we returned. We're delighted. Since it's getting to be late in the season, we're starting to wonder if this will be a member of the generation that heads to Mexico for the Winter.

Tussock moth caterpillars are continuing to appear in larger sizes on some of the milkweed. A quick look at our sand plain meadows (fields can't really be fallow if never used for crops or as pasture, right?) shows what appears to be more than enough milkweed to go around. So, for now, we no longer begrudge tussock moths their share of milkweed. This year we've noticed more monarch caterpillars than ever before. We're not sure if it's because there are more caterpillars, or we're looking harder and smarter, or both.

The dogs seem very happy that we're home. They had few opportunities to harass anyone while we were gone. The Daughter Person and Son-in-Law took care of the dogs for us, but both of them are now working full time so there were limited opportunities for interaction and play. If you promise not to tell them, we missed the dogs while we were gone.

A Chrysalis

Mary Emily Bradley

    My little Mädchen found one day
    A curious something in her play,
    That was not fruit, nor flower, nor seed;
    It was not anything that grew,
    Or crept, or climbed, or swam, or flew;
    Had neither legs nor wings, indeed;
    And yet she was not sure, she said,
    Whether it was alive or dead.

    She brought it in her tiny hand
    To see if I would understand,
    And wondered when I made reply,
   "You've found a baby butterfly."
   "A butterfly is not like this,"
    With doubtful look she answered me.
    So then I told her what would be
    Some day within the chrysalis:
    How, slowly, in the dull brown thing
    Now still as death, a spotted wing,
    And then another, would unfold,
    Till from the empty shell would fly
    A pretty creature, by and by,
    All radiant in blue and gold.

   "And will it, truly?" questioned she--
    Her laughing lips and eager eyes
    All in a sparkle of surprise--
   "And shall your little Mädchen see?"
   "She shall!" I said. How could I tell
    That ere the worm within its shell
    Its gauzy, splendid wings had spread,
    My little Mädchen would be dead?

    To-day the butterfly has flown,--
    She was not here to see it fly,--
    And sorrowing I wonder why
    The empty shell is mine alone.
    Perhaps the secret lies in this:
    I too had found a chrysalis,
    And Death that robbed me of delight

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