Recently, on a walk with my god daughter, we both became enthralled with the occasional flicker of lightening bugs. I keep meaning to go on a firefly expedition with her. We all have memories of capturing them in jars (and hopefully letting them out before too long). I have cousins that would try to make glowing rings out of them — cruelty seems so innocent in the guise of discovery.
So, this morning, I was happy to see an article in New York Times about the complicated life of a firefly. It claims they live for 2 years underground and then average only 2 weeks above ground mating. That fact alone amazes me. And their larvae glow. There are more males than females. The desired males, get this, give protein gifts upon mating! I love that. “Here you are, have some food to help your stamina.” Such grace and practicality in their passion.
Maybe my soul mate escaped from the bottom of a jar one summer day? His promise of sustenance fading away, seeking his own kind. Ah the glow — if only I’d understood in time.
Enjoy your summer spectacles.
