Eleven days ago, I shared a photograph of a chrysalis I found dangling in the compost. I’ve been checking it every day. Yesterday, the green sheath turned clear, and I could see the butterfly’s black and orange wings inside.

Today, I ate lunch perched on top of our deck table like I usually do when the weather is nice. The crickets were back at it with the chirping after their silence this morning in the fog. The oak has a few fully red leaves now. I only remember it going straight to brown in the past; I don’t remember it stopping through red on the way. Either the summer rains made a big difference this year, or it goes quick and I miss the red every year, or I’ve just not paid close enough attention. But this year there are glossy ruby-red leaves, and they’re beautiful.

The sun was hot on my shoulder; it was too warm for the jeans and tee-shirt I wore. The more I sat while I ate, the more things I saw that I wanted to do on my lunch break: fill the bird feeders, water the salvias and blanketflowers I transplanted, check on the chrysalis. When I’d set my plate down after eating, the wind lifted. It added a beautiful shushing to the air as it rippled through the oak leaves on the tree. I decided grab my camera and check on the chrysalis.

When I hiked up to the top of the hill, I saw the freshly emerged butterfly drying its wings a few inches from its empty chrysalis. An hour in either direction, and I might have missed it.