I have a special place in my heart for lightning bugs.

I love when I see the first ones of the year. A spark here, a flash there, I’m not sure what I’ve really seen. Is it a trick of the eye? Perhaps a reflection on my glasses? I have to see the bug to know it is real. Then I have to catch one.

It isn’t summer until I have caught my first lightning bug.

They fly so slowly it is as if they want to be caught. They drift along, aimlessly, like a leaf in a gentle stream. They aren’t in any hurry, and they never fly very high.

Perhaps you are wondering what I’m talking about. Perhaps you call them fireflies. Perhaps you don’t have them where you are. They are in the beetle family and they have bioluminescent butts. They flash light to call a mate. They come out in June usually.

This year, the first one I caught I looked at when it was on my hand, facing away from me, and I said “I love you!” It flew up and backwards and landed on me, over my heart. I felt it was giving me a hug.

The first ones are magic. They herald the explosion of them. One becomes a thousand in a smattering of days. Driving home in the evening this year was like driving through a field of stars.

I feel a little sad for the last ones. They have played a game of musical chairs and they are the losers. They have such a short life span. Hatch, find a mate, lay eggs, and die. If they hatch early they have a huge choice of mates. Towards the end it is slim pickings. I wonder if the cycle just continues like this. Hatch late, lay eggs late, and then those eggs will also hatch late. No fun.

There’s no philosophy here. I just want to share my love of lightning bugs with you.