I went down to my neighborhood park tonight to catch myself a jar full of fireflies -- or as we call them in the midwest, lightning bugs. Every time we went down to my Grandpa's cabin at the Lake of the Ozarks when I was growing up, my brother and I would go out and catch as many lightning bugs as we could.
We'd put them in a mason jar with holes poked in the lid and set the jar on the dresser in the room we shared to make ourselves a nightlight. Then when we'd wake up in the morning we'd have a jar full of dead lightning bugs. We never could figure out how to keep them alive.
I didn't have any mason jars, so tonight I had to make do with an old jelly jar instead. I caught about six or seven lightning bugs, but once I put them in the jar they refused to glow. Seems like they only lit up when they were flying and the jelly jar was too small for them to fly around in, so after a few minutes I let them go. I don't really have much use for a jar full of dead lightning bugs at this point.
When I was a kid, summertime consisted of lightning bugs, watermelon seeds, squirt guns, bicycles, hide and go seek, reruns on tv, playing army, running through sprinklers, staying out 'til dark, road trips, freeze tag, camping, sidewalk chalk, hamburgers on the hibachi, and NO SCHOOL.
We didn't have play dates, or serial summer camps, or reading assignments. We just had fun.
(Taken with my Nikon D90)
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