I hate people, and especially me.

Yes, but the Monarchs from the Western parts of the U.S. and Canada are wise enough to come no farther south than my neighborhood, Pismo Beach, California. The Monarch count has been on the decline lately (under 25,000 in '05/'06 and '06/'07), but in '94/'95 it dropped to 15,000 then rebounded to 150,000 the next year so I'm keeping fingers crossed for the new year's numbers.

I do love how the giant clam sculptures in Pismo are painted to look like butterflies during the butterfly season (and shocked to be unable to find any pictures of that on the Web... and they've already been repainted green for St. Patrick's Day).

Happily, while any climate-Change-related rise in the sea level will engulf most of touristy downtown Pismo Beach, the butterfly groves will remain safe over 7 meters (although access may be more difficult). But then, thanks to our irregular terrain, Pismo's the only 'beach town' here that'll lose much to the rising tide. And that is NOT an invitation for refugees from New Jersey and Florida.

Nearly 30 years ago I was vacationing with my parents at Pismo Beach. We would go there almost every year, usually for a week of family relaxation. My father decided he wanted to see the Monarchs since they would be there at that time. We got directions to a grove of Eucalyptus trees, and were told the early morning was the best time. We got up early, and filled with the free donuts at the hotel we drove and found the grove, just as it was described to us although it was a bit foggy. There wasn't anything obvious, so I offered to hop the barb wire fence and check further in the grove. Again, nothing. I told my parents I didn't see anything, but they were nonplussed, and insisted on joining me in the eucalyptus grove. We wandered around for a bit when I noticed a flash of orange up in the trees, and then I saw them. They were hung by the thousands in clusters much like how bee swarms form. Their closed wings were perfectly camouflaged in the eucalyptus. We wandered around and stared for quite some time as the fog burned off, and they slowly began to fly around. It was absolutely magical, and stays with me vividly to this day. I've always wanted to go back, but never have. Part of me knows I won't ever catch that magic again, but also I'm afraid of what I'll find if I do go back.