I've been missing fireflies - or lightning bugs, as I grew up calling them. I remember many early summer evenings dashing about under big oak trees grabbing lightning bugs and quickly depositing them into one of Momma's canning jars. [And, yes, I mashed a few to take advantage of their glowing juices!] Is there anything more defining of rural summer youth? Well, maybe swinging from a knotted rope, hung on a sturdy tree branch and dropping into a refreshing body of water!
About two weeks ago I asked my hubby, "Where have all the lightning bugs gone? Do you suppose the fire ants have gotten them too?" He was as nonplussed as I.
And then, on Saturday evening, exiting Spinelli's Restaurant in Mena, AR, I spotted one! And I think I probably squealed in delight! And I implored V to drive to the back of the parking lot under some trees and look out onto a small meadow lined with more trees. And there my friends, were lightening bugs. LOTS of lightning bugs. And so we sat and Stephen had his first delightful experience with these charming insects.
Isn't it neat how God does that? As if to say, "Yep, they're still here. And so am I."