Nora climbed until she thought she’d reached the height where the monarchs had gathered. Then she inched forward, pressed her body against the tree, and swung her foot to the next branch over. With her feet firmly planted on two different branches, she piano-keyed her fingers around the trunk until she could shift her weight full to the second branch. She ignored Rose’s gasps punctuating the silence and repeated the process until she stood only inches from the kaleidoscope of butterflies.
    She wished she had her sketchbook. Instead, she committed the visual to memory, their brilliant segmented wings reminding her that her father often said nature displayed the artistry of God. She couldn’t disagree. She didn’t think any museum held a more beautiful display of creativity. Every insect she studied, every bug she duplicated in watercolor and pencil, pointed her toward a God who loved beauty. And she loved being outside admiring it.
    If you take over the journal, you’ll spend too much time at a desk.
    Nora ignored the thought and reached to brush her fingertip across one silken wing. Her father’s dream was worth the sacrifice.
    “Nora!” Rose’s shout pierced the silence. “Get down here before you kill yourself!”
    As a group, the butterflies lifted from the tree. They surrounded Nora in a cloud, tickling her ears and scalp with their fluttering wings. She laughed, then quickly closed her mouth when she felt them brush her lips, as soft as Chantilly lace. She steadied herself on the branch and slowly, with gentle movements, lifted her arms above her head. The monarchs crisscrossed around her in a sunrise-hued blanket. Then they lifted into the sky and flew northward.
    For a moment, Nora didn’t move. Her arms still raised, she listened to herself breathe and followed the flight of the butterflies as they disappeared from view.
    “Did you see that?” she called to Bitsy and Rose.
    “Incredible” Bitsy answered, shielding her eyes and looking up at her.
    Rose wrung her hands. “Please, now, won’t you come down? There’s someone coming.”
    Nora looked past the tree and saw a rowboat making a lazy path toward them. She sighed and began her climb down. When she reached the halfway point, someone called out to them. Nora strained to see over a tree branch obscuring her view. Standing on her toes, she just made out the little boat and a man’s straw hat.
    She didn’t know how it happened. She’d been climbing trees since she could walk, but for the first time in her life, she found herself slipping off the branch that snugged her against the trunk. She flipped over, scraping her cheek against the rough bark. With only enough time to recognize Rose’s shriek, she dropped through the air.