The amazing journey of the monarchs

Sometimes, writing is all about managing the tempo. This was simple for me while I worked for a daily newspaper, but when I wrote my debut book, “Saving Ellen: A Memoir of Hope and Recovery,” (Skyhorse Publishing, 2025) it became a a fraught task, considerably more complicated. That’s when I had to figure out when to vary the tone from one chapter to the next - sort of like composing music, I suppose, although my musical talent is nonexistent.

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At one point in the middle of the writing I realized that the tone of my book was getting a little heavy. I wasn’t writing a comedy, although you can’t survive growing up in an alcoholic household without plenty of dark humor. But I thought it was time to give the readers a break.

So I wrote a brief chapter about the late summer day when millions of monarch butterflies descended on the small island in Lake Ontario where we had a cottage and stayed for a few days. They covered every surface. The beautiful orange (and sometimes yellow) butterflies covered so many trees that overnight, the entire island looked as though autumn had come in an instant. They transformed our world, however briefly, and 13-year-old-me took their arrival as an encouraging sign that my sister, struggling with kidney disease, would get the transplant that was then considered a medical miracle. And she soon did.

That short chapter, which I wrote as an afterthought, became the beautiful cover of my book.

It proves once again that brilliant graphic designers can express with one work of art what it would take ink-stained wretches like me thousands of words to convey.

When delicate swarms of monarchs graced us with their presence in 1970s, little was understood about their migration patterns. Now we know that these beautiful creatures travel from north to south every year, from Canada and the northern United States to colonies in Mexico and even South America, covering thousands of miles.

A butterfly on our farm in August.

A very cool study (gift article here) has revealed even more about these elegant creatures. Though the wonder of teeny-tiny tracking devices weighing 60 milligrams, attached to 400 monarchs this year, scientists can now dish out more details. Such as how they navigate (via the sun and, amazingly, internal compasses that detect the angle of the Earth’s magnetic field). And how far they can roam (one monarch began in Ontario and was last detected in Guatemala). And how perilous is the journey; as few as one in four may make it to arrive in places where their ancestors spent the winter months. Scientists still don’t understand how the butterflies know how to find the same areas where great-grandma sunned herself years ago, and so far, the monarchs aren’t giving away that secret. That’s OK. I’m just grateful to them for making the weeks-long migration.

For we need them. As pollinators, they are crucial and yet threatened. Human influence, in using insecticides, causing climate change and all the casual and cruel ways we manage to damage the natural world have reduced the monarch population significantly. I have seen butterflies all over the small farm on which we live, helped along because my husband almost never sprays and when he does he uses an organic substance such as neem oil that is not toxic to bees, birds, other animals and plants. I smile when I think that people hike for hours in obscure corners of Mexico to see what I experienced as a teenager, but I worry that the odds are against the butterflies.

And yet, every time I have brought my book to libraries or signed them for people at conferences or in bookstores, the lovely cover - butterflies against blue - has reminded me of that long-ago day when my world transformed overnight and I felt the hope of which these beautiful creatures are a symbol. The chapter that I once considered an afterthought inspired the cover of my book and has provided me with an ongoing reminder of hope.

It has been, and continues to be, a gift.

In the United States, we will celebrate Thanksgiving on Thursday - happy Thanksgiving to all my readers, whether or not you celebrate, and know that I am always grateful for you.