I went for a run yesterday in the Arb. It was a hard go, thanks to two weeks off when Genevieve arrived, but toward the end, something happened that made all the suffering worthwhile. Near the end of my route, I turn a dogleg corner that frames a stand of conifers and cuts down a big goldenrod-filled hillside. When I hit this spot, the trees and grasses positively erupted with at least twenty bright monarch butterflies. As I ran down the path, more and more joined the initial flight, until I was running in a cloud of fifty or so butterflies. It was so astounding that I had to stop to take it in. What a strange and wonderful experience.