Firefly dreams
Why I would think of an insect when unable to sleep might seem odd to you. Well, I have the same fond memories of most folks- the catching, examining, the filling of Mason jars with hole-pricked foil covers. You can read whole words in pitch blackness by the light of one bug's rear end, a jar of them will illuminate an entire page. The miracle of cold light- scientists have not yet discovered how to man-make it and it be bright enough to read a book by. What a miracle of creation! And yet, it was not even these amazing things that brought fireflies to my night-time mind.
I think everyone has certain images- incredible, unforgettable scenes...good or bad- etched in their minds. The birth of a child, a particular sunset, a lost loved one's face. One of my cherished images is of fireflies. It was either the summer of 1992 or 1993. I know this because it was one of the two summers I lived in my Aunt Jane's cabin by the creek. I don't know what made me go out that night, maybe it was to swing on the porch while the air was cool. Whatever the reason, I stepped into expected darkness and instead found myself in a fairyland of lights. I have never seen anything like it before or since. Everything dripped with fireflies. The 100 year old walnut trees with heads in the stars, the bushes, the blades of grass. They hung in clusters, pendulous and swaying like grapes. I walked out among them, awestruck, undone by nature's brilliance. How can I ever explain the image so you can understand my desire to relive it at 3:00 a.m.? Have you ever been to a Christmas light display? The kind with only tiny white lights, ones that wrap trunk and limb, bush and vine, and as you walk beneath you feel hushed and reverent at the beauty? Now imagine that scene, only untouched by man, solely created by the hand of God. Now perhaps you can see why I chose that memory to light up my dreamless darkness.
I have never understood the phenomena that caused it. Perhaps it was a seldom seen mass hatching caused by a freak of weather. Or maybe it was God putting on a light show for his own joy and delight and I just happened to be lucky enough to stumble into it. Since then I have read lots of interesting things about lightening bugs.
When you look out on your lawn or field you will see many flying about, and many more nestled in the grass or perched on branches. Most of the flying ones are males, seeking the demure females waiting in the grasses. I imagine a dapper little lightening bug smoothing back his antennae much like Pepe Le Pew grooming his fur and swooping down to some alluring female, saying, "I am coming, my little turtle dove, my petite flower of love!" You must imagine this in Pepe's accent...why an Arkansas bug would have a French skunk's accent is beside the point, suffice to say it makes me snicker. Now, perhaps he finds a lovely gal and she is a little more interested than the cat that Pepe always woos (cue the loud smooching sounds of an amorous skunk). Then they will have lovely batches of little firefly baby-eggs. However, just as Pepe is usually unlucky in love, the poor suitor firefly can get more than he bargained for. For in the same grasses, mimicking the same alluring blinking, is another species of firefly.....and these are cannibals! By choosing the wrong spot of light our little Romeo sets himself up to be a meal, instead of an amore.
But, back to pleasant thoughts. Say the two little love bugs did have babies. Moma lightening bug would lay these eggs in the ground and the eggs will hatch out to be larva. Worms. Grubs. A seemingly inglorious start to a glamorous creature, but looks are deceiving. For the larva can glow just like their adult counterparts! Glowworms. It's true. I have accidentally dug them up in my flowerbeds and the boys came running to look into cupped hands where the homely worm flickered like a tiny earthbound star dreaming of the sky.
Scientific studies show fireflies are on the decline. The reason is unknown, but probable causes include pesticides, deforestation, and just too many houses with too many lights. How is a species of nocturnal insects whose whole world is patterned on delicate displays of light and shadow supposed to cope in a human world that never lets the land grow dark?
And so I am tired today. Tired, but smiling, my head full of fairy lights. Perhaps one day we will have to tell our grandchildren about fireflies, stringing feeble words to describe a luminous miracle. So look outside at night, this night, while they are still there to remind of us of beautiful things fleetingly glimpsed. And I ask you, are you ever too old to get a Mason jar and catch some magic?
