This evening, I enjoyed one of my favorite treats. My parents are hard workers and savers. On a mechanic’s and a school media assistant’s (though she was a lunch lady prior) salaries, they managed to buy two acres of land in what was the middle of nowhere ten years ago and build a pleasant little home for me and my brother. Since then, the country road that was hardly ever traveled on has now become rather busy, and neighborhoods of hulking houses have sprung up with their street lamps on all night and traffic going by at all hours.
But my back yard, or glade as I like to call it, is still lined by trees. And during this time of year, the lightning bugs flicker by the thousands against the black wooded backdrop at night. The frogs that live in the creek that surrounds the glade on two sides ribbit their love songs and the crickets chirp along. This night, between the cars that buzz along the road, I even got to hear and see the flapping bats who sweep along (probably eating the lightning bugs). While I wish there were less street lights from the nearby neighborhoods and I wish less cars and motorcycles roared along the street, I can still see and hear the lovely sight that is the glade in the backyard in late spring and wonder at the magic of these small but precious places in the world.
I wish pictures or film could capture things like this, but perhaps the fact that they can't makes it all the more special.