Summer's Here?
When I took the dog out the other night at 9:00, some big bug tried to get in the door. As I swatted it away, I realized by its lazy, drifting method of flight, that it was a firefly. And even though it was late and I was tired and impatient and chilly, I got a little excited.
Lightning bugs! They're here!
I watched through the window and sure enough, its little lantern blinked reassuringly as it drifted off the deck and out into the dark backyard. Part of me wanted to run and get the kids. Come on gang, let's go. Head out into the night and instigate the traditional catch-and-release.
But Daughter #1 and First-Born Son were still at work. And Daughter #2 was studying anxiously for her last final exam. I was on my own. Not that they would've jumped up and followed me, cheering, even if they were around. But I may have been able to use my rather vast and impressive "Mom Powers" to twist their arms and convince them to frolic in the yard with me.
It's no secret how wet and chilly these last weeks have been in the northeast. Even as the south and midwestern parts of the nation bake in the heat, we've had little more than one or two tantalizing glimpses of summer peeking through the clouds. The northeast winds that blew out here last Monday did more damage to the harbor on that, the second official day of summer, than they did all this past winter.
I may live in a summer paradise, but I've yet to put on a pair of shorts or a bathing suit this year (unless you count that aberrant, crazy-hot beach day in April).
June on the Vineyard is always a crap shoot I think, as I watch with pity the vacationing families, bundled up in sweatshirts, painfully dragging bored children through town in the rain. But this year is downright spooky. We all greet one another with jokes about the end of the world, but we are only half kidding.
Summer will come, I know that rationally. As my friend Bill puts it, "It does every year," and he's personally witnessed 86 of them so I have no reason to doubt.
But then I saw that lightning bug a couple of nights ago, and I really started to believe. After all, there can't be lightning bugs without summer, correct?
And there it was, glowing brightly on and off, moving further and further away till I was left alone with the dog in the darkness. Yet I'd heard it loud and clear: Be patient. It's almost here.
I looked down at the dog. "You heard that too, didn't you girl?"
She just looked up at me with bored indifference.
Yeah, right.
Lightning bugs! They're here!
I watched through the window and sure enough, its little lantern blinked reassuringly as it drifted off the deck and out into the dark backyard. Part of me wanted to run and get the kids. Come on gang, let's go. Head out into the night and instigate the traditional catch-and-release.
But Daughter #1 and First-Born Son were still at work. And Daughter #2 was studying anxiously for her last final exam. I was on my own. Not that they would've jumped up and followed me, cheering, even if they were around. But I may have been able to use my rather vast and impressive "Mom Powers" to twist their arms and convince them to frolic in the yard with me.
It's no secret how wet and chilly these last weeks have been in the northeast. Even as the south and midwestern parts of the nation bake in the heat, we've had little more than one or two tantalizing glimpses of summer peeking through the clouds. The northeast winds that blew out here last Monday did more damage to the harbor on that, the second official day of summer, than they did all this past winter.
I may live in a summer paradise, but I've yet to put on a pair of shorts or a bathing suit this year (unless you count that aberrant, crazy-hot beach day in April).
June on the Vineyard is always a crap shoot I think, as I watch with pity the vacationing families, bundled up in sweatshirts, painfully dragging bored children through town in the rain. But this year is downright spooky. We all greet one another with jokes about the end of the world, but we are only half kidding.
Summer will come, I know that rationally. As my friend Bill puts it, "It does every year," and he's personally witnessed 86 of them so I have no reason to doubt.
But then I saw that lightning bug a couple of nights ago, and I really started to believe. After all, there can't be lightning bugs without summer, correct?
And there it was, glowing brightly on and off, moving further and further away till I was left alone with the dog in the darkness. Yet I'd heard it loud and clear: Be patient. It's almost here.
I looked down at the dog. "You heard that too, didn't you girl?"
She just looked up at me with bored indifference.
Yeah, right.
We called them fireflies. When we would spend summers in New Jersey we lived to chase them as dusk fell. No such thing in California. About one of the few strikes against the state IMO.
Posted by: LPC | June 29, 2009 at 03:36 PM
San Diego is known for its June Gloom and May Gray, but they always burn off inland by 9ish. Not this year. We've had one day (yesterday) that felt like summer. Today? Thunderstorms. Climate change what?
Posted by: Jenn @ Juggling Life | June 29, 2009 at 07:58 PM
Even though we've had weeks of heat here, summer only really feels like summer for me when I hear the secadas. They arrived today....I love them...but not the heat.
Posted by: The Stiletto Mom | June 29, 2009 at 08:11 PM
I love fireflies! Your post brought back memories of visiting my grandparents in southern Indiana, where fireflies literally flocked to their yard -- which was a field behind the house. There were more fireflies in Indiana than there were back in Michigan, where I grew up, so seeing fireflies was a highlight of my childhood visits.
Recently, though, I spotted fireflies on the west side of Michigan, near Lake Michigan, where we now have a summer home. It is such a summer thrill to see them again. Thanks for the reminder.
Posted by: Cindy La Ferle | June 29, 2009 at 08:40 PM
Full on hot humid summer over here. Yesterday the beach shower was colder than the ocean.
Posted by: Pseudo | June 29, 2009 at 10:41 PM
I've never seen a firefly. We don't have them here. I need someone to mail me a jar of them or something. I feel deprived ...
Posted by: Twenty Four At Heart | June 30, 2009 at 12:24 AM
Hey, I think we were firefly looking the same night! Bruce yelled "They're here!" and we stood outside in the dark watching them light up all around us. Summer is indeed here.
Posted by: Lori | June 30, 2009 at 11:49 PM