Fireflies

Sitting on the porch this evening reading the paper of record, I noticed that the fireflies were out in force. Though it was forty-five minutes after bed time, I tiptoed upstairs to see if Natalie, perchance, might be up with the near-solstice dusk. Even though she had refused to snuggle with me, a disturbing trend.

Was she up? You know she was, so I took her by the hand out to the back porch and we sat down and checked out all of the many many fireflies flitting around out in the back yard, over by Mary's flowers, and the great many who flew around across the fence in the bulldozed "contested zone," the big lot waiting for McMansions to be built, temporary home to backhoes and bulldozers (much to Graham's delight). And yes, you Manhattanite, California, and desert readers, the fireflies twinkled eat-your-hearts-out fine in the muggy aftermath of a summer storm.