I just love summer nights. The thick humid air takes me back to my childhood. So many nights were spent out in the backyard swing, enjoying the gentle breeze, cricket sonnets, and that soothing sound of a distant whippoorwill.
Now that I’m a city boy, summer nights are different. The sounds of traffic from both ground and air serve to drown out so many of the songs of nature. And while the dirty air helps produce some amazing sunsets, the bright city lights steal the show from the millions of twinkling stars that I know are still up there — somewhere.
Tonight I enjoyed a walk with my kids. Jackson rode his bike up ahead of me while I pulled Caroline in the red wagon. The air had just begun to cool, and I saw something that took me right back to those summer nights in rural Mississippi: fireflies. Everywhere.
That is, of course, my citified name for them. Don’t let my current living situation and seeming sophistication fool you. Growing up in the South, I came from a largely uncultured family. And I say that proudly. Those glowing insects were not fireflies — they were lightnin’ bugs. And I spent many an evening chasing them, catching them, and trapping them in a Blue Plate mayonnaise jar to use for a makeshift nightlight.
All these years later, lightning bugs still amaze me. Being the constant learner that I am, I took some time to research the little critters — and here are some of the things I discovered:
