FIREFLIES AND FIREWORKS

Some Small Things Shed Great Light
When I woke up one day last week I lay in bed listening to the morning chorus of birds outside the window.  The rolling trill of the Veery joined the bell-like call of the wood thrush and the silver song of the Red winged blackbird, all underscored with bullfrogs, and topped by the cheery bluebird.  The light was soft and delicate.  There were no other sounds.      “This is what I love about here and now,” I said to my husband, and I meant it.      Where I live the primary sounds are not human made.  They’re constructed by wind shifting through leaves, bullfrogs and birds, crickets and peepers. Except, of course, right around the fourth of July, when the neighborhood pretty literally explodes.  That’s because a few people here can legally set off fireworks to their heart’s content.  In fact, when we were building our house, one of the first people I met was Mitch, who lives down the road and stopped by to introduce himself.       “You’re gonna love it here!” he exclaimed enthusiastically.  “I’ve got an explosives license.”     Okay, then.       On the other side of our house is a family who is also apparently licensed to explode.  Every year on the weekend after July 4th, they put on a fireworks display that lasts over an hour, and rivals that of the state capital.  It’s  stunning, but I have a kind of vexed relationship with fireworks.  I love the way they look, but my entire being is thrown into primal fear at the sound.  It's a visceral reaction, and I can't do anything about it, except maybe hide under the desk with my dog, Luna, who feels the same way.  (Ziggy, on the other hand, tries to eat them. Of course.)      Instead, being human adult, I plug my ears and watch, and go ooh and aah with the best of them.          But here's the thing. The firework extravaganza always takes place at the same time the fireflies are reaching their peak, and we have, quite literally, thousands of very active fireflies. When they enact their ritual of twinkling love it seems the woods and fields are filled with fairies, each one carrying a tiny piece of star at the tip of a diminutive finger.  And every year I do just what I did this year.    I stand in my back yard, my fingers in my ears, and watch how the fireflies react not at all to the fireworks cascading around them.  Sometimes I wonder what they think of it all.  Really Alpha fireflies, with sound effects?  They don’t tell me.  They just continue their silent dance, a light show without sound.  BIophosphorescence at its improbable best.     This year, after the booming was done, I almost went down to the neighbor’s house to hang out and drink some of their wine, but the mystery of the fireflies was more compelling.  Somewhere inside what they do lives music, and if I stand and watch them long enough, I believe I’ll hear it.   Fireworks over my yard    The fireworks - I already know what they’re saying.  Something like, “Hey - aren’t we BIG!  I mean, aren’t we just the BIGGEST thing? Watch us BLOW UP!  BAM!  POW!  Pop-pop sizzle whistle.”     It’s fun in its own way, but the fireflies.  Aah, the fireflies.  It takes time, and an open heart to know their song.  A willingness to join in the mystery.  To hear them, you need the same patience it takes to hear the heart of a novel you're trying to write.     So I stay put, and I listen. 
    Below is a fruit salad that’s a rather mysterious and sparkling combination of fruit, veggie, spice and herb.   Make some for yourself, take it out to the country, and have a late night picnic while you contemplate a field of fireflies, who remain oblivious to human invention, and invite you to join the mystery of their existence, and your own.           Fireflies are one of the deep pleasures of summer.  If you’d like to know what else goes on that list for me, and share what’s on your list, find me on Facebook , and let me know.  You can also visit me at my website, wildreads.com FIREFLY FRUIT SALAD  (NOTE:  I made this to bring to a party, so it’s big.  You can cut the ingredients in half and still have plenty. ) Yum!  Be sure to share!MAIN CHARACTERS1 baby seedless watermelon, cut up into 1 inch pieces1 cantaloupe cut up into one inch pieces1 green pepper, fine diced1 cucumber, peeled, quartered and sliced1/2 onion, sliced VERY thin and rough choppedCHARACTER’S DRESSING1 cup finely chopped cilantroJuice of 1 limeAbout a quarter cup of good balsamic vinegarabout a tablespoon of olive oil1 tablespoon agave nectar, honey, or sugarsalt and pepper to tastetabasco sauce to taste