I'm sure some of my readers have felt, at one point of time in your lives or another, the desire for change. We change different things in our lives constantly -- clothes, foods, routines, houses, jobs, and sadly, spouses -- and I've come to that point in my life where I want to change what I DO. I'm a legal secretary and have been that for about 30 years. I never wanted to enter the professional work force, but faced with caring for my young children by myself due to divorce, I had to find a field of work that would pay well and yield steady employment. Browsing the newspaper convinced me that I should go into the secretarial field as there were multiple listings for all sorts of secretarial positions. But I had no training, so I enrolled in a local business college and took a 9-month secretarial course, learning speedwriting, typing, and filing, as well as taking courses in English and accounting. I also experienced mock interviews in preparation for the real thing. A month before I graduated, I interviewed for and got a job in the legal field as a secretary for a father/son law firm. Thus began my legal career.
I've been rather content through the years, but my heart has found a happier home in my writing. Having written and self-published four books, I intensely yearn to be a professional writer. The desire burns inside me.
I took my birthday off from work earlier this month and did a little research on-line regarding publishers and found WestBow Press, which is a division of Thomas Nelson Publishing, one of the biggest names in Bibles and Christian materials. I was very interested, but the cost of using their services made me choke a little; our finances have been hard-hit with my surgery, a rebuilt engine in my husband's work van, and having that leaning tree at our rental house cut down. Doling out thousands more at this time makes me cringe. But I completed a simple form for more information via e-mail, and the next day I was surprised with a phone call from one of their people. As the call was on my cell phone, he left a message, and after listening to it, I left work 15 minutes early in order to return the call at home. The rep and I spoke for over 50 minutes, and he was a wealth of information and encouragement to me. During the next few days, he read the chapter of "Amanda's Hope" that is posted on Amazon.com. He e-mailed me that it is very well written and that he hopes I'll pursue my dream by using that book to assist in the problem of teen pregnancy in our society. He also gave me multiple ideas for marketing and promoting the book in order to raise the funds I need to have it published by WestBow.
So that finds me here, seemingly stuck between a rock and a hard place, needing to pursue being a public speaker at rotary clubs, women's groups, churches, doing TV and newspaper interviews, and little time to invest in those pursuits. I'm gone from the house from 8:45 AM until 5:45 PM, then come home, cook dinner and clean up from dinner, and walk or exercise, necessary since surgery, as well as pay the bills, clean the house, and do the laundry. I don't usually sit down until 9 PM, and by then I'm exhausted. Where can I find the time to pursue the marketing and promotional venues that have been suggested to me?
Women who work full-time have two jobs, in my opinion -- their professional job for which they get paid, and their job as wife, mother, homemaker, for which there is no monetary reward, but a deeper, more meaningful reward instead. I don't have children at home, and I don't know how working women succeed at holding down these two jobs. Maybe they don't. Maybe that's why the divorce rate is so high. Maybe.
I've got to come up with a game plan for promotion and marketing of "Amanda's Hope." I'm asking God for a miracle here; I'm not happy at my job, but stressed and exhausted. I want to write, to make a difference in someone's life. Change that is desired is vastly different than that which is forced, and I desire to be a professional writer, and with God's help, I know that it will come to pass -- in His timing.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Neighborhood Walks
My husband and I frequently take walks through our neighborhood, a community of about 110 houses. The main street runs throughout and has several cul-de-sacs. Fortunately, the main street has a sidewalk, but none of the cul-de-sacs do, which I find odd. We have to walk on the street until we get to where it connects to the main road before picking up the sidewalk.
Our neighborhood is bordered by one very busy, 4-lane road with a speed limit of 55 mph and another road that is 2-lane with a speed limit of 45 mph. Both of these roads provide access to our neighborhood. The other two sides are bordered by slices of natural woods, with the section that abutts our property containing the watershed for the entire area.
This neighborhood was developed in 2003 and was clear-cut of trees; landfill then leveled the area for building. As a result, there are no large trees, and many of the trees that exist have struggled to survive through repeated summers of extreme heat and lack of rain.
We can always count on seeing others on our walk -- people walking their dogs, parents with small children riding their tricycles, older adults strolling hand-in-hand, or people standing in their driveways talking on their cellphone, having private conversations in a public place. Brief conversations with neighbors occur frequently, especially during the summer months when it doesn't get dark until 9 PM.
I like to look at yards while walking; I'm amazed how some people allow weeds to invade their lawn and don't trim their tree branches (making the tree look more like a shrub). I see yards that have nothing in them other than the shrubs in front of the house and the 2 trees in the front yard, and I think of what I would do to make that yard beautiful. It's a virtual empty canvas waiting to be painted with color! I also see people who drive out of their garages when they go to work and drive back into them when they come home, never using their outdoor spaces. Lawn mowing services thrive around here because people want a house but they don't want to take care of the space around it!
Smells waft on the air as we walk, too, especially during the evening hours. Smells of cooking food (this is a multi-racial, multi-ethnic community) and laundry drying permeates the air, often making us wonder what's cooking. In autumn, we watch as the leaves turn color and fall to the ground, leaving the trees bare and exposed. It is then that we can see all of the bird nests that sheltered new families during the spring and summer.
We also watch as people have their lawns reseeded every year; Fescue is the 'recommended' grass for all front lawns, but it can't tolerate heat and drought, so by the end of summer, lawns are spotty and/or barren. One brave soul in our cul-de-sac had a variety of Zoysia grass laid in her entire yard, much to the chagrin of the Association Board. "All lawns must look the same, and Zoysia turns brown in the winter," was their reasoning. Ultimately, the Board gave approval for the sod to stay -- as long as winter rye is planted in the Zoysia in the winter so it is green like all the other grass! Some rules need to change! Zoysia (which my husband introduced to our neighbor; it's in our entire back yard) needs little watering in the summer, grows very slowly (much less mowing), and loves the southern heat and humidity; it's the perfect grass for this area, but it's not well-known and is more expensive than Fescue. We are the only 2 houses that have Zoysia grass, but we hope that will change.
Our neighborhood is quiet, and I thank God that we have a safe place to live, a place that is bordered by and filled with nature. I can't imagine living surrounded by concrete and tall buildings. My skyscrapers are the pine, oak, and maple trees that surround our area, all of which will soon be ablaze with the colors of Fall when God takes out his paintbrush and goes crazy!
Our neighborhood is bordered by one very busy, 4-lane road with a speed limit of 55 mph and another road that is 2-lane with a speed limit of 45 mph. Both of these roads provide access to our neighborhood. The other two sides are bordered by slices of natural woods, with the section that abutts our property containing the watershed for the entire area.
This neighborhood was developed in 2003 and was clear-cut of trees; landfill then leveled the area for building. As a result, there are no large trees, and many of the trees that exist have struggled to survive through repeated summers of extreme heat and lack of rain.
We can always count on seeing others on our walk -- people walking their dogs, parents with small children riding their tricycles, older adults strolling hand-in-hand, or people standing in their driveways talking on their cellphone, having private conversations in a public place. Brief conversations with neighbors occur frequently, especially during the summer months when it doesn't get dark until 9 PM.
I like to look at yards while walking; I'm amazed how some people allow weeds to invade their lawn and don't trim their tree branches (making the tree look more like a shrub). I see yards that have nothing in them other than the shrubs in front of the house and the 2 trees in the front yard, and I think of what I would do to make that yard beautiful. It's a virtual empty canvas waiting to be painted with color! I also see people who drive out of their garages when they go to work and drive back into them when they come home, never using their outdoor spaces. Lawn mowing services thrive around here because people want a house but they don't want to take care of the space around it!
Smells waft on the air as we walk, too, especially during the evening hours. Smells of cooking food (this is a multi-racial, multi-ethnic community) and laundry drying permeates the air, often making us wonder what's cooking. In autumn, we watch as the leaves turn color and fall to the ground, leaving the trees bare and exposed. It is then that we can see all of the bird nests that sheltered new families during the spring and summer.
We also watch as people have their lawns reseeded every year; Fescue is the 'recommended' grass for all front lawns, but it can't tolerate heat and drought, so by the end of summer, lawns are spotty and/or barren. One brave soul in our cul-de-sac had a variety of Zoysia grass laid in her entire yard, much to the chagrin of the Association Board. "All lawns must look the same, and Zoysia turns brown in the winter," was their reasoning. Ultimately, the Board gave approval for the sod to stay -- as long as winter rye is planted in the Zoysia in the winter so it is green like all the other grass! Some rules need to change! Zoysia (which my husband introduced to our neighbor; it's in our entire back yard) needs little watering in the summer, grows very slowly (much less mowing), and loves the southern heat and humidity; it's the perfect grass for this area, but it's not well-known and is more expensive than Fescue. We are the only 2 houses that have Zoysia grass, but we hope that will change.
Our neighborhood is quiet, and I thank God that we have a safe place to live, a place that is bordered by and filled with nature. I can't imagine living surrounded by concrete and tall buildings. My skyscrapers are the pine, oak, and maple trees that surround our area, all of which will soon be ablaze with the colors of Fall when God takes out his paintbrush and goes crazy!
Friday, September 16, 2011
Aging
I'm proud -- that's correct -- to announce that I turned 62 Monday, September 12. I'm proud of that fact because many people do not live to see their 62nd birthday. Birthday celebrations are just that -- celebrations of another milestone reached, another year gone by, a life still happening.
Even as I celebrate aging, there is much about it I DO NOT LIKE! Utmost, I think, is my lack of energy. Granted, I'm still not completely recovered from back surgery, which occurred only 3 months ago, but even before that, I noticed that taking care of our small grandsons is physically challenging. I fall into bed exhausted every night, happy to slip between the covers and drift into oblivion, at the end of most days now.
Another unlikeable thing is the fact that my skin is not the same; it has an 'elephant skin' look, for lack of a better term, when some specific body movements occur. Muscle tone is also not the same; my upper arms have a way of sagging when I hold my arms out. Gone is my youthful countenance; instead, age spots are starting to dot my arms and legs. Thankfully, so far my face seems to have escaped being attacked by this aging malady! Vericose veins create roadmaps to nowhere on my legs, leaving my young grandson, Niland, wondering what happened to my legs. "Old age," I tell him. Any other explanation would simply be impractical.
On the other hand, there are several things that are a plus. I can live with my white hair; in fact, I often get compliments on it because it's a rather unusual shade of white. No longer do I get carded; instead, I get senior discounts in many places. No longer am I called "Miss" but "Ma'am" instead. And I'm finally getting the respect I believe I've deserved all of my life!
Pros and cons -- pluses and minuses -- yes, aging has both, but I'm so very grateful to my Lord and Saviour for granting me as many days as He has -- and I hope He grants me many more. Even as I age day by day, I pray that I will be a positive influence for God on our children -- even as adults -- and all of our grandchildren, because the legacy I leave has nothing to do with money or stuff but with bringing my family into the kingdom of God.
Happy aging, everyone! I take comfort in the fact that you're getting older, too, just like me. My daughter gently reminded me on my birthday that I was still 20 years older than her. True, but the percentage gap is closing!
Even as I celebrate aging, there is much about it I DO NOT LIKE! Utmost, I think, is my lack of energy. Granted, I'm still not completely recovered from back surgery, which occurred only 3 months ago, but even before that, I noticed that taking care of our small grandsons is physically challenging. I fall into bed exhausted every night, happy to slip between the covers and drift into oblivion, at the end of most days now.
Another unlikeable thing is the fact that my skin is not the same; it has an 'elephant skin' look, for lack of a better term, when some specific body movements occur. Muscle tone is also not the same; my upper arms have a way of sagging when I hold my arms out. Gone is my youthful countenance; instead, age spots are starting to dot my arms and legs. Thankfully, so far my face seems to have escaped being attacked by this aging malady! Vericose veins create roadmaps to nowhere on my legs, leaving my young grandson, Niland, wondering what happened to my legs. "Old age," I tell him. Any other explanation would simply be impractical.
On the other hand, there are several things that are a plus. I can live with my white hair; in fact, I often get compliments on it because it's a rather unusual shade of white. No longer do I get carded; instead, I get senior discounts in many places. No longer am I called "Miss" but "Ma'am" instead. And I'm finally getting the respect I believe I've deserved all of my life!
Pros and cons -- pluses and minuses -- yes, aging has both, but I'm so very grateful to my Lord and Saviour for granting me as many days as He has -- and I hope He grants me many more. Even as I age day by day, I pray that I will be a positive influence for God on our children -- even as adults -- and all of our grandchildren, because the legacy I leave has nothing to do with money or stuff but with bringing my family into the kingdom of God.
Happy aging, everyone! I take comfort in the fact that you're getting older, too, just like me. My daughter gently reminded me on my birthday that I was still 20 years older than her. True, but the percentage gap is closing!
Monday, September 12, 2011
Ten Years Later
September 11, 2001 -- forever etched into our memories. Every person in America, alive and old enough on that day to truly understand the events that unfolded before us on live television, can tell you where they were and what they were doing. I was working around my house in Danbury, Connecticut, prior to going into work at 2 PM at a local office supply store. After hearing that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center, I turned on the television a few minutes after the second plane had found its intended target. Glued to the TV, nothing else got done around the house, and I had to pull myself away when it came time to go to work. The store was unusually quiet that day, few sales and stunned people quietly conversing as they checked out. Danbury, Connecticut, had many residents who commuted to NYC for work, and the fear and disbelief at the magnitude of the event was palpalable everywhere.
Over the last 2 days, my husband and I have watched numerous programs on television, pregnant with stories of pain, suffering, and survival, of that fateful day. Repeatedly, we watched recorded history as the planes hit and the towers crumbled violently in massive cloud of debris and dust. Yesterday, we watched as the reflecting pools were dedicated, as the names of all of the victims were read, as people touched the names of their loved ones on the brass plates encircling the pools, and as people wept and remembered that day. At first, I thought I'd tire of seeing tragedy relived, but I didn't. It's not that I enjoyed it -- not at all. I just don't want to forget that day. I don't want to forget that hundreds of thousands of people were literally traumatized by being part of that terrorist attack, either by being in the buildings and surviving, by being in the area and having to be evacuated, by running for their lives when the towers fell, by knowing that loved ones were trapped in those towering infernos, or by losing a loved one either on one of the planes or in the towers. No, I don't want to forget that their lives -- and ours -- were forever changed -- and why.
The lunar cycle is at full moon right now, and as I sat outside the other night, gazing upon the shadows of the moon's soft light bathing our back yard, I thanked God for the peaceful place in which I live; for the fact that I can sleep without fear; that there aren't gunshots ringing outside our doors; that we have a large greenspace that we can call our own; and that we have multiple blessings of family. America is a great nation -- although not without problems -- and I thank God that her people are resilient and strong.
"When I shut up the heavens so that there is no rain, or command locusts to devour the land or send a plague among my people, if my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land." 2 Chronicles 7:13-14
The Word of the Lord is forever true.
Over the last 2 days, my husband and I have watched numerous programs on television, pregnant with stories of pain, suffering, and survival, of that fateful day. Repeatedly, we watched recorded history as the planes hit and the towers crumbled violently in massive cloud of debris and dust. Yesterday, we watched as the reflecting pools were dedicated, as the names of all of the victims were read, as people touched the names of their loved ones on the brass plates encircling the pools, and as people wept and remembered that day. At first, I thought I'd tire of seeing tragedy relived, but I didn't. It's not that I enjoyed it -- not at all. I just don't want to forget that day. I don't want to forget that hundreds of thousands of people were literally traumatized by being part of that terrorist attack, either by being in the buildings and surviving, by being in the area and having to be evacuated, by running for their lives when the towers fell, by knowing that loved ones were trapped in those towering infernos, or by losing a loved one either on one of the planes or in the towers. No, I don't want to forget that their lives -- and ours -- were forever changed -- and why.
The lunar cycle is at full moon right now, and as I sat outside the other night, gazing upon the shadows of the moon's soft light bathing our back yard, I thanked God for the peaceful place in which I live; for the fact that I can sleep without fear; that there aren't gunshots ringing outside our doors; that we have a large greenspace that we can call our own; and that we have multiple blessings of family. America is a great nation -- although not without problems -- and I thank God that her people are resilient and strong.
"When I shut up the heavens so that there is no rain, or command locusts to devour the land or send a plague among my people, if my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land." 2 Chronicles 7:13-14
The Word of the Lord is forever true.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Timber!
My husband and I have another house in Raleigh that we rent to my son and his family. It is located in a part of the city called North Hills, which is very wooded; the lots were not clear-cut when the homes were built in the late 50's and early 60's. When Bob lived there with his family, he cut down numerous pine trees to allow some light into the yard so grass could grow. Two huge oak trees were left standing in the front yard, and one of those had become a problem through the passing years.
The huge red oak tree, estimated to be 95 feet tall, started leaning to the south this summer. It had always leaned a little, but this year it was on the move. All of the branches on the tree were on the south side because of another tree being on its northern side, and one branch, which hung low and which the boys could touch while swinging on the tree swing, dropped so low that those same little boys could touch it from the ground! A crack about 8 feet long also appeared on the north side of the trunk of the tree, so it was clear that it was leaning and was in danger of coming down during a storm -- or at any time. If it came down voluntarily, it would take out all of the wires that ran down the street on the poles, knocking out electricity, phone and internet service to who knows how many people.
So we had to call a tree cutting service to remove the tree. I worked half a day that Friday, the day before Hurricane Irene visited North Carolina, and hurried over to the house when I got off work. The huge tree was reduced to a stump by the time I arrived. Bob was there and had taken photos of the entire process, from topping off the branches to taking down the trunk. Curious to know the approximate age of the tree, Bob counted 115 rings on the trunk. We should have measured the base of the trunk, but we didn't; however, we estimate that it was at least 4 feet across at its widest point.
Our young grandsons thought it was the grandest thing to stand on that stump and jump down, slipping and sliding down the slope covered with wood chips. Later, a stump grinder arrived and finished reducing the stump to chips.
The tree is not all chips, though. A lot of the larger limbs were left for us to cut as firewood, and the trunk was cut into huge sections to be milled into oak boards. The owner of the tree trimming company, who also owns a mill, told me that the tree would yield some very nice boards. So, we had to pay him a large chunk of cash to take down that tree, and he's going to make probably at least that much by selling the boards he gets from it! Go figure!
By viewing the photos and videos Bob took, I was able to see how those guys, totally oblivious to how high up they were, cut, segmented and lowered all the branches and trunk, not allowing one of them to drop heavily to the ground and gouge the lawn. It was amazing to watch.
Needless to say, Bob and I were very relieved that the tree was down before Hurricane Irene came to town. The winds were only around 40 mph in Raleigh with about 1.5 inches of rain, but considering how far the tree had leaned, even that degree of storm could have spelled disaster.
The bigger they are, the harder they fall, and this one would have fallen hard.
We've asked for a board from the tree to make a bench for our garden -- I hope our request is granted. It would be a nice reminder of that mighty red oak.
The huge red oak tree, estimated to be 95 feet tall, started leaning to the south this summer. It had always leaned a little, but this year it was on the move. All of the branches on the tree were on the south side because of another tree being on its northern side, and one branch, which hung low and which the boys could touch while swinging on the tree swing, dropped so low that those same little boys could touch it from the ground! A crack about 8 feet long also appeared on the north side of the trunk of the tree, so it was clear that it was leaning and was in danger of coming down during a storm -- or at any time. If it came down voluntarily, it would take out all of the wires that ran down the street on the poles, knocking out electricity, phone and internet service to who knows how many people.
So we had to call a tree cutting service to remove the tree. I worked half a day that Friday, the day before Hurricane Irene visited North Carolina, and hurried over to the house when I got off work. The huge tree was reduced to a stump by the time I arrived. Bob was there and had taken photos of the entire process, from topping off the branches to taking down the trunk. Curious to know the approximate age of the tree, Bob counted 115 rings on the trunk. We should have measured the base of the trunk, but we didn't; however, we estimate that it was at least 4 feet across at its widest point.
Our young grandsons thought it was the grandest thing to stand on that stump and jump down, slipping and sliding down the slope covered with wood chips. Later, a stump grinder arrived and finished reducing the stump to chips.
The tree is not all chips, though. A lot of the larger limbs were left for us to cut as firewood, and the trunk was cut into huge sections to be milled into oak boards. The owner of the tree trimming company, who also owns a mill, told me that the tree would yield some very nice boards. So, we had to pay him a large chunk of cash to take down that tree, and he's going to make probably at least that much by selling the boards he gets from it! Go figure!
By viewing the photos and videos Bob took, I was able to see how those guys, totally oblivious to how high up they were, cut, segmented and lowered all the branches and trunk, not allowing one of them to drop heavily to the ground and gouge the lawn. It was amazing to watch.
Needless to say, Bob and I were very relieved that the tree was down before Hurricane Irene came to town. The winds were only around 40 mph in Raleigh with about 1.5 inches of rain, but considering how far the tree had leaned, even that degree of storm could have spelled disaster.
The bigger they are, the harder they fall, and this one would have fallen hard.
We've asked for a board from the tree to make a bench for our garden -- I hope our request is granted. It would be a nice reminder of that mighty red oak.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Raising Monarchs
I must apologize for the lapse in blogging; going back to work has thrown me for a loop. It's amazing how out-of-contact one can become with one's job when one isn't there for almost 4 months! Returning part-time wasn't bad; I was able to rest when I got home around 1:30, but the return to full-time has been difficult. Because I still have fluid buildup at the surgery site, my back starts to burn around 4 PM every day, and I don't get off work until 5:30, so it's a grin-and-bear-it late afternoon for me. Ibuprofen helps, but it really takes rest for me to feel better.
I miss my hummingbirds while I'm at work, and I think they miss me! TRULY! When I get home and go outside, the little birds are soon flying around in front of my face, seemingly asking me where I've been. I'll miss them even more when they head south for the winter. While they're gone, I'll fill our bird feeders and enjoy the birds that winter here. Currently, we have a lot of American Gold Finches feasting on the zinnias that splash our gardens with color. The birds perch on the flowers and pluck the petals out, then eat the soft seeds at the end of the petals. Flowers with missing petals, and there are many of those, are easily spotted when I cut flowers for the house, but there are so many zinnias that I don't mind sharing with my feathered friends. The finches come in early morning and evening like clockwork.
I'm happy to report that the monarch butterflies returned to my yard and laid eggs on the butterfly weed, and I've watched the caterpillars grow as big as my small finger. Curious to keep a chrysalis to watch it hatch, I placed a large caterpillar in a huge glass vase, added a very wet paper towel to the bottom, cut a large piece of butterfly weed, stuck it in the paper towel, and finally covered the opening with a piece of netting. As I hoped, the caterpillar is on its way to becoming a butterfly. When I got home one evening earlier this week, the caterpillar was hanging by his back end (it actually is a small, very strong connector made of silken thread), and in the morning, it was hanging in a J position and getting darker. When I came home that day, it was totally transformed into its chrysalis, or pupa stage. This is the most amazing process, and if you search the internet for raising monarch butterflies, you'll be able to find sites that have amazing photographs of the entire process. The chrysalis is jade green surrounded by a necklace of golden dots -- amazingly beautiful.
Encouraged by my success, I've "caged" two other caterpillars which have chrysalized and have put the two chrysalises into a butterfly house made of netting. (I found another crawling on the deck, and I've spotted one more chrysalis hanging from a flower pot.) Moving and bumping them should be minimal, so I've placed them in our screen room so they can be in the natural air. Unfortunately, not all caterpillars make it to the chrysalis stage; I found one dead on the butterfly weed, and another started to chrysalize on the side of our fabric-covered gazebo top, but at the end of the day, it was dripping -- not a pretty sight. The other caterpillars on our butterfly weed have wandered off and chrysalized (they are very difficult to find), but I found one chrysalis on the cup holder of one of my lawn chairs I placed it in the sun room to join my other four babies, but left the chrysalis where it was. After being gone to my son's house for dinner Saturday evening, I checked on it, and the wings were clearly visible through the now-clear chrysalis. This morning when I got up, I checked again, knowing that it would soon emerge (see photo attached), and when Bob got up a while later, I told him that the butterfly would certainly emerge today, and when he went to look at it, it had already done so. Wings soft and pliable, it readily climbed onto my finger. I took one of my vase of flowers outside to grace the table in the gazebo while we were eating breakfast and placed the new butterfly on the flowers. Later, I put them in the open air, and when we returned from church, our new baby had flown away. This butterfly, and those that will be emerging soon, will travel to Mexico to overwinter before mating and returning to the US. It is only the generation born now that makes the trip and lives for 9 months; summer generations live a mere 4 - 5 weeks. In the spring, they will mate and return to the northern states, laying eggs on butterfly weed and milkweed as they go.
I hope you enjoy the attached photos -- from tiny caterpillar to Monarch butterfly -- and marvel at the process of metamorphosis that God has created.
I miss my hummingbirds while I'm at work, and I think they miss me! TRULY! When I get home and go outside, the little birds are soon flying around in front of my face, seemingly asking me where I've been. I'll miss them even more when they head south for the winter. While they're gone, I'll fill our bird feeders and enjoy the birds that winter here. Currently, we have a lot of American Gold Finches feasting on the zinnias that splash our gardens with color. The birds perch on the flowers and pluck the petals out, then eat the soft seeds at the end of the petals. Flowers with missing petals, and there are many of those, are easily spotted when I cut flowers for the house, but there are so many zinnias that I don't mind sharing with my feathered friends. The finches come in early morning and evening like clockwork.
I'm happy to report that the monarch butterflies returned to my yard and laid eggs on the butterfly weed, and I've watched the caterpillars grow as big as my small finger. Curious to keep a chrysalis to watch it hatch, I placed a large caterpillar in a huge glass vase, added a very wet paper towel to the bottom, cut a large piece of butterfly weed, stuck it in the paper towel, and finally covered the opening with a piece of netting. As I hoped, the caterpillar is on its way to becoming a butterfly. When I got home one evening earlier this week, the caterpillar was hanging by his back end (it actually is a small, very strong connector made of silken thread), and in the morning, it was hanging in a J position and getting darker. When I came home that day, it was totally transformed into its chrysalis, or pupa stage. This is the most amazing process, and if you search the internet for raising monarch butterflies, you'll be able to find sites that have amazing photographs of the entire process. The chrysalis is jade green surrounded by a necklace of golden dots -- amazingly beautiful.
Encouraged by my success, I've "caged" two other caterpillars which have chrysalized and have put the two chrysalises into a butterfly house made of netting. (I found another crawling on the deck, and I've spotted one more chrysalis hanging from a flower pot.) Moving and bumping them should be minimal, so I've placed them in our screen room so they can be in the natural air. Unfortunately, not all caterpillars make it to the chrysalis stage; I found one dead on the butterfly weed, and another started to chrysalize on the side of our fabric-covered gazebo top, but at the end of the day, it was dripping -- not a pretty sight. The other caterpillars on our butterfly weed have wandered off and chrysalized (they are very difficult to find), but I found one chrysalis on the cup holder of one of my lawn chairs I placed it in the sun room to join my other four babies, but left the chrysalis where it was. After being gone to my son's house for dinner Saturday evening, I checked on it, and the wings were clearly visible through the now-clear chrysalis. This morning when I got up, I checked again, knowing that it would soon emerge (see photo attached), and when Bob got up a while later, I told him that the butterfly would certainly emerge today, and when he went to look at it, it had already done so. Wings soft and pliable, it readily climbed onto my finger. I took one of my vase of flowers outside to grace the table in the gazebo while we were eating breakfast and placed the new butterfly on the flowers. Later, I put them in the open air, and when we returned from church, our new baby had flown away. This butterfly, and those that will be emerging soon, will travel to Mexico to overwinter before mating and returning to the US. It is only the generation born now that makes the trip and lives for 9 months; summer generations live a mere 4 - 5 weeks. In the spring, they will mate and return to the northern states, laying eggs on butterfly weed and milkweed as they go.
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