Diversions 101

Because I am a nature nut, and because it makes me happy, and mostly because I can, I plant milkweed in my yard to attract Monarch butterfly larva. And because, once, I watched in horror as wasps made off with the little caterpillars, I look for them and bring them indoors where I have to worry about keeping fresh leaves stocked and cleaning up caterpillar poop, which is called frass. But oh, the quick gratification. Not at all like waiting all year for a moth to emerge. The lovely monarch has a very quick turn around time, mere days from cocoon to emergence. It's magic of the highest order, every bit of it. The part I find most mesmerizing is the stage where the caterpillar shrugs off its skin and becomes the green lump that becomes the turquoise gilded chrysalis. It looks violent and painful, and it makes no sense that it can occur right in front of my eyes, no matter how many times I watch it happen.

For the record, I've been doing this for years now. My rural childhood was made magic by caterpillars, moths and butterflies. One summer, an entire batch of caterpillar eggs hatched in our kitchen window, which delighted my mom and dad, so our summer was filled with terrariums filled with green Cecropia caterpillars, which are so huge they make the largest tomato hornworm look puny. They emerge the largest moth in North America, one of the most beautiful creatures on the planet. We set more than a dozen free that next summer, after waiting all winter to see them, and I have been forever transformed by that magical experience.

Maybe this Monarch will make the journey to Mexico and return to lay eggs in my yard next summer. I certainly hope so. I'll be watching.







This one emerged this morning, very early. It took several hours for the wings to become rigid, and by this afternoon, it flew away. But I'm not sad. I have another chrysalis that should hatch next week, and one caterpillar almost ready to cocoon, and a tiny little one that needs another week or two to grow big enough to work its own magic. I'll keep you posted.

Tiffany!

For your listening and looking pleasure: more Tiffany Dome at the Chicago Cultural Center. I got goosebumps. This past visit was the first time I'd seen it since the restoration. It was amazing before, but much darker and less sparkly and bright. Now, it is brilliant.



A Little Deeper:

Take a trip and never leave the farm

Quiet on a cloudy Sunday morning, a little fuzzy from the extra summer cocktail I had last night, I blog stumble onto the best site I've visited in forever. Seriously.
I was surreptitiously looking for sympathetic aging mom sites, but instead found something completely different, and exactly what I needed. I can commiserate with intelligent, like minded people the next time I blog. For now, I'm going back here to see how much fun I can have just reading the archives.

Great food, simple recipes, amazing music! Click the first video you see, and listen while you read. It feels like a party. And you'll feel like you're almost there.
Then start thinking what to cook!

Cajun Delights

Enjoy.

My kind of mini vacation

My Canadian friends came to visit. We took the train into Chicago to meet more friends from Indianapolis for a day filled with fun and adventure. And teenagers.
And a chalk chicken.
We rode trains, walked busy streets, rode water taxis, busses, and walked some more, all the way out into the lake on Navy Pier. That's short little me in the middle, a very good friend on the left and my skinny daughter on the right.

Millenium Park. Very scenic. Very touristy. Perfect.
We splashed in the fountains. It spit rain, but never got us as wet as we got ourselves.

We saw stained glass museums, and mosaic tiled walls so intricate they hurt your eyes. Pictures don't even begin to get it right.
We spent some time with the world's largest Tiffany dome. Brilliant. My favorite thing in the city, maybe.
There were rides, beer gardens, elephant ear vs. funnel cake experiments, cotton candy, and mostly good friends and good times.
It was a very, very good day. Too short, maybe. Everyone had fun, nobody got lost.

Chicago. My kind of town. A short train ride from the cornfields, user friendly, something for everyone, visually stunning, easy in, easy out. Expensive, maybe, but worth it.

Kittyless

We used to have 2 kitties. Ossie, on the left, was a runner, a hunter, a wanderer who would stay with anyone who opened their door. We lost her several times before we truly lost her. We would put up the missing posters and a neighbor would call and tell us how charming and loving she was, or she would just show up, dirty and hungry with no explanations. We could never keep her breakaway collar on her. But in the days following coyote sightings in the neighborhood, we lost her for good two years ago. Not knowing the particulars makes it both easier and harder sometimes. Although I fear she became part of the food chain herself, I can pretend that she found a home she preferred to ours and lives there still.

Noel always stayed closer to home, never leaving the yard, and rarely leaving the perimeter of the house. She loved to lounge in the sun, waiting for the chance to chase a chipmunk. She never caught one, but brought us countless voles and mice.

Her favorite hideout was under the porch, which is where I found her for the first time 6 years ago, just before Christmas. She would often hide under there, especially after a storm, sometimes spending the night, but always came out when called in the morning if she wasn't waiting by the door for a belly rub.

Her favorite hangout was on the barbeque, where the dog couldn't torment her. She could see into the kitchen window and watch for me as I got my morning coffee.

I took this picture the last day I saw her, waiting for my best friend and her family to arrive from Canada for her first visit here in a decade. We had a great night, a wonderful barbeque, and the last time I saw kitty, she got a scolding for trying to sample the beer can chicken and ribs. She wouldn't come when I called for her at dusk, which happened often, and infuriated and worried me to no end. I called for her again at midnight, but she rarely came out of hiding after dark. She was a cautious kitty.

I slept with the windows open because the night was cool and during one of my fitful hot flash fueled wakings I heard a shriek I had never heard before. I listened for more, but there was nothing. I thought perhaps the raccoons were fighting over the bird food. But in the morning, no kitty. Four days now and no kitty and I think the shriek I heard was Noel's last gasp as she became part of the food chain. Coyote, fox or owl? I don't get to know. My daughter wants me to put up the missing kitty signs, but she was microchipped, she never left the yard and I think I know now what I heard, and the idea of posting a futile plea and watching it fade in the sun makes me cry. She was ours for 6 years, which my husband says was a good run for a stray cat. We loved her well while she was here and she returned the favor. I still listen for her at night and look for her every morning, but I know in my heart she is gone.

We are kittyless.

The highlight of my summer, the visit from my oldest friend, was also the low point of my summer, as I've lost my best kitty yet. Life is like this sometimes. You wait for something good, and it comes with something bad.

The only question now is how long to wait to put away the food bowls, the kitty toys, the litter box. And I hope I am done rescuing stray cats who won't stay inside, where it is safe.