Brooklin, Maine was not a good place to see fireworks on the Fourth of July, but it was a superb location to watch fireflies.
There were pyrotechnics in three nearby towns, but none were near enough to make it worth our while to climb into the car after dinner and drive to a crowded place in order to ooh and ahh with a lot of other people. Instead, we lingered over a dinner of grilled salmon, roasted potatoes and steamed peas (from our home garden, which were delicious, thank you very much). As darkness fell we dished up some frozen nirvana – Island Lady Toasted Coconut ice cream – onto which we sliced plenty of fresh, local strawberries. Then we turned out the lights and let ourselves be entertained by thousands of lampyridae.
Sorry to say, I did not take any photos, but my camera could never have captured the frenzy.
The fireflies in the field between our rented cottage and the shoreline were absolutely crazed with lust on the evening of July 4th, dancing and sashaying, flitting and flirting, zipping and zooming, beaming their desire into the night.
I hope it was as pleasurable for them as it was for us.
