Homage to Lampyridae
As with the photographer who snapped the shot above, this too is my favorite part of summer. The season with the least amount of dark offsets that deficit by allowing the meekest lights among us to rule the night. Hail Lampyridae; long may you glow.
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I’m sweating. I want a beer. Under a shade tree. And laziness. It’s involuntary. A parasympathetic response to sheer memories: of oppressive nighttime humidity of Indiana summers, punctuated by really weird occasional green formations in the sky, omens of tornadoes, sometimes turned into perfect peace by kicking back under a tree, watching glow bugs after a long summer day of rock-climbing (what little there is) on slick, over-used, midwestern limestone cliffs. I was reading Gell-Mann at that time, and watching fire flies: “There can exist no procedure for finding the set of all regularities of an entity.” I’ve never seen their regular-synchronized glowing: only the irregular, random blinking.
Defying too neat ordering.
Like in the pic. It was just more fun to watch, and let the humidity be an excuse to be mindless - more fun than to analyze.
Judicial opinions: glowing, glowing, gone?
That you mid-westerns hail the summer and its swelter - ah, the plasticity of the human mind to make due. But yes, fireflies help. For free. Somehow. I smuggled a few of them from Indiana to Flagstaff, Arizona (more rock climbing) one summer vacation over 20 years ago. Not seen them since. Not even a trace. No migratory drift to the Sierras where I live. Oh well. But, a great pic. And good memories.
Neat blog. A-glowing ...
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