On the southern edge of Lake Erie, we have the honor of being on the Monarch migration path. Those fragile creatures fly all the way across the lake, a minimum of 30 miles, to reach land again. Some years, they reach the shores by the hundreds, and sit and rest. This year, the weather has been so cold and rainy, I worry about them. Yesterday, I picked up two, rather tattered, and sitting on the shore just past the water's edge. I carried them to some asters to rest. But I haven't seen the large numbers that have come through here in the past. Some day, I want to go to that town in Mexico where the monarchs all go to winter.