Last year although we discovered the Monarch butterflies had laid many eggs on our Crown Flower plant, the hatched caterpillars all disappeared before we could witness the magical transformation (maybe eaten by birds?)
Yesterday, however, I found a solitary pupa among the munched leaves and hollered to Phil to "come see."
The final four pictures document the final stages of the process we witnessed on Groundhog Day.
NOTE: The caterpillar on the left began to "curl up" during the day -- and next morning -- we got a photo of the brand new (translucent) pale green pupa.) Of course we will be hoping to catch another emergence --- if we are lucky.
My sister died on the first of February -- not unexpectedly. Over the years, as such losses occur, we have planted something in our yard as a tribute to each person.
When Phil's mom passed a few years ago, we planted two baby ohia trees in her memory. Now, the Crown Flowers will always remind me of my sister and our shared journeys through life.
All change is loss of one kind or another; witnessing this process was a lovely metaphor and reminder of the on-going process of life -- and death -- and new life.
Yesterday, however, I found a solitary pupa among the munched leaves and hollered to Phil to "come see."
He brought the camera out, and while we were standing there, we were surprised to see the thin translucent layer of the pupa "pop" open.
And, right before our eyes, we witnessed the emergence of a brand new Monarch butterfly! The pupa (because of the diet of Crown Flower leaves) is spun green. However as the transformation occurs, it becomes more translucent.
If you look carefully at the pupa photo -- you can even see the bold stripes showing through.
We were both surprised as the butterfly emerged to think it had been cramped into such a small space.
Watching the origami-wings slowly unfurl took about five minutes. We watch while the new butterfly stretched them out to dry in the warm sun.
The final four pictures document the final stages of the process we witnessed on Groundhog Day.NOTE: The caterpillar on the left began to "curl up" during the day -- and next morning -- we got a photo of the brand new (translucent) pale green pupa.) Of course we will be hoping to catch another emergence --- if we are lucky.
My sister died on the first of February -- not unexpectedly. Over the years, as such losses occur, we have planted something in our yard as a tribute to each person.
When Phil's mom passed a few years ago, we planted two baby ohia trees in her memory. Now, the Crown Flowers will always remind me of my sister and our shared journeys through life.
All change is loss of one kind or another; witnessing this process was a lovely metaphor and reminder of the on-going process of life -- and death -- and new life.
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