hand in the bush

Remember the caterpillar I told you about last Wednesday (float like a butterfly, sting like a caterpillar) -- complete with a ramble through the jungle of blog statistics?

Well, I now know where he was headed with caterpillarish determination.  Yesterday I was cleaning up the fallen flowers and leaves around the planter where I had watched his slow but steady climb.


And despite my warning about sticking my bare hands into the landscaping (after all, there be stinging caterpillars there), I discovered the reason for his determined climb.

At first I thought it was only one of the many green leaves that the flowering vines sloughs off before their time.  My depth perception being what it is, it looked flat to me.  Until I touched it.

It was a firm green globule.  By its feel, I knew exactly what it was.  A chrysalis.

The caterpillar knew it was sporting its last childish skin.  Underneath was a hard body that would protect it as it metamorphosed into a butterfly.  Lepidopteric puberty.

I am still curious what type of butterfly will emerge.  If I were still 8, I would snap off the palm frond and stick it in a Miracle Whip jar to see what emerged.

Of course, the chances would be greatly enhanced that nothing would emerge.  The caterpillar picked its resting spot to heightened the possibility of a successful emergence.

I will check the chrysalis periodically.  But I will undoubtedly miss the big show.  What emerges will remain a mystery.

But, isn't that true of most things in life?  We really do not know the outcome of of the little ripples we create in the lives around us.

The most I can wish is: Godspeed, little butterfly.