It was years ago when I followed the ghostly white patches on my dog through the trail in the woods.
The trees blocked the moonlight and only by occasionally calling out to Piper could I keep her close enough to see, as she guided me down the path. It was the route we walked every night. And as we had done so many nights before, she cut to the side, through a narrow opening in the brush and ran out into the neighbors hay field. I followed, watching my toes, stepping over the fallen log out into the open field and looked up stunned.
The field was a mass of golden lights, slowly rising into the sky.
Thousands of fireflies lit the air. Each of them flashing one long golden stream of light as it rose up into the night, only to settle back to the ground and begin again. A bunch of bugs had turned a humble hay field into effervescent magic. The two of us continued our walk. Piper trotted through the rising lights and I followed, soaking it in, hoping to remember forever the night we stepped out of the dark into a field of light.
It is again just that time of year, the rising one blink fireflies are out. Not as many this year and the white spots on the dog I now follow through the dark run too fast to use as a trail guide. But every year at this time when I see those slowly rising, one blink fireflies I remember Piper and one very special night.
After nine the fireflies came out and I headed out to lock up my birds, camera in hand, hoping to get a picture. Instead I got a swam of mosquitoes up my nose. I decided it was probably better this way. My night time photography skills aren’t up to illustrating this story even if there were enough fireflies in the air. But picture or no I’m linking up with Northwest Frame of Mind again this week. Click on over and see what else people have been up to in the nine o’clock hour!