For the past week, folks who love aerial explosions have
enjoyed once-a-year bliss, which they share with anyone with the good sense to
get outside and enjoy the show. Even
though we live three miles out of town, we are on a hilltop, and the
whump-whump-whump of exploding aerial display sounds from town carries up the
amphitheater-like rise to announce each brilliant blast.
We’ve enjoyed ruby, sapphire, emerald, and diamond jewels as
they hang for a moment in circles, ovals, starbursts, and sparkling sprays
above town and then fade into the dark sky.
What I have been reminded of as I spent the last few days enjoying these
man-made light shows is that nature produces her own small-scale light show
through late June and July.
Beginning at dusk, a jillion fireflies become visible as
they weave in and out of trees, across pastures, through gardens, and along the
creeks flashing their little lights as they look for mates. While the science behind this natural
luminescence is pretty astounding, just watching them is more amazing.
Children love these nighttime creatures and run laughing and
giggling as they try to catch them to put them in glass jars to create
lanterns. Watching adults remember when
they too ran after these hard to capture blinking lights and laugh along with
their children. Everybody has a firefly
story to tell—the one that got trapped on the windshield wiper and blinked the
family’s way home on a dark night. The fireflies placed on a family’s address
numbers where they temporarily lit up the address.
Some kids take their
fireflies to bed where they get out of their glass jail and turn a bedroom into
a fairyland. We once had a lone firefly
in the house who blinked his way along the baseboards in my bedroom, driving me
crazy wondering what was making that
intermittent bright light in my room. I
finally found myself crawling along the baseboard to discover what made that
light. Imagine my surprise—and maybe
his-- when I got brave enough to touch the lonely firefly who somehow ended up
inside instead of outside.
Firefly watching is part of my summer schedule. I plan in at least thirty minutes an evening
to sit outside and watch these little guys weaving their summer magic to the
rhythm of a locust and frog symphony. I
wondered last night if the fireworks on the 4th of July confuse them
and make them think there is some BIG LOVE up there in the sky. Once town
quiets down after the big celebration, you’ll find me sitting in the dark watching
nature’s own tiny firework show and making memories that will bring a winter
smile.
No comments:
Post a Comment