Glowing Green

It was a beautiful June evening. Theodore and Oliver finished their slices of chocolate cake after supper and asked Grandpa to tell them the story about the bull at the fair again.

While Grandpa told the story, Grandma put the rest of the cake on the counter in the pantry next to a box wrapped in plain brown paper that she was saving for the holidays. She went to the front porch to water her marigolds in the old salt kettle. She had a beautiful arrangement of yellow, orange, and red marigolds this year.

When the kids asked for the story about the bull, Grandpa grinned and related the tale of the young bull who had been frightened and broke free at the fair. He ran through the birthday party and finally was herded back to the corral by Grandpa and his brothers. The boys loved that story and each one hoped to be at the fair one day and see a bull dashing through the carnival. All the people jumping aside and running for cover as the bull ran past would be great sport. The images of roosters chasing poultry judges across the grounds while kids ran after their show chickens also made them grin and laugh. The birthday party being crashed by a bull was the icing on the cake of the story.

After the tale was told, in unison, they asked Grandpa for the fireworks jars. It was late in the evening and they sensed that fireworks were about to start out in the yard. The fireworks usually started in the grass by the old barn and at the edges of the woods beyond the barn and behind the house. They had special canning jars with holes in the lids that they kept for these occasions. They all went to the basement and found the jars on the canning shelf and snuck out the basement door to go to the old barn. Their timing was perfect.

Glowing green and yellow lights flashed in the tall grass and then seemingly vanished before reappearing several feet overhead. The fireworks followed lazy paths through the air as though the planet had begun to fall off its axis like a top making its last few spins before toppling. The boys dropped their jars into the grass and ran back and forth, following the blinking lights in dizzying paths around the barnyard. Grandpa reminded them to be gentle and not squish the fragile critters producing the flashes of light.

It was late June and that means firefly season in central Illinois. Kids of all ages love to watch them flashing and flying, creating their own kind of lightning. The boys loved to see each of the many kinds of fireworks nature had to offer and this kind was their favorite. They each held out a hand, palm up, and gently swept upward under a flashing of lightning time and time again. Usually, the flashing light rose out of reach, but each of them eventually caught a lightning bug and had Grandpa help with the jars. After collecting about ten each, the jars were in full glow. Theodore asked Grandpa to tell them the poem. Oliver repeated the request for the poem. "Firefly, Firefly," they excitedly chanted in unison. Grandpa began the rhyme and they joined him in repeating the pretty refrain in their adorable little-boy voices.

"Butterflies

Flutter by

Rest your wings

Overnight.

Time to watch

Fireflies

Illuminate

The dark of night."

Jumping up and down, they repeated the verse three times and then removed the lids and let all the fireflies fly free from their jars.

They gazed in amazement at the luminescent creatures as they flashed their signal lights and illuminated the late evening sky.