Is there anything that brings back your youth more than seeing fireflies ~ or as we in the midwest call them, lightning bugs ~ flickering in the dusk and shadows of a summer evening?
Remember chasing and catching lightning bugs and putting them in a mayonnaise jar with a twig and a handful of grass and holes poked in the lid for air?
Can’t you just smell/touch/taste the humid stillness of that eternal hour in the twilight, running through the feather soft grass of gloaming, chasing to catch but not crush, tiny gentle tips of flickering gold lightning beckoning just there, and there, and there . . . .