"I haven't seen any Monarch butterflies at all this Summer, and now I've seen three today," said Minny Dandrich to Bismarck Fedora at lunch.
"They're heading south to their winter home in Mexico," said Matteo Chelone, the groundskeeper at Clematis Station. He was at the next table, wondering how long apple pie would be on the dessert menu. Not that he was complaining, but Gaia Philpin had given him a whole pie, which he had yet to finish.
"There's another one," said Victoria Schoenberg, pointing through the window at a bright orange and black butterfly.
”They are easy to mistake for maple leaves that have turned red and orange," said Donatello Firenze, the art teacher. Stella D'Oro, his star pupil, opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it. Some people breathed a sigh of relief. She was just the sort of person to try her hand at painting a late summer scene with Monarch butterflies in it. Still, that would probably be a pretty thing to look at.
Maybe this was just a sign that not much else of note was happening now.