Since we never had any in our Detroit neighborhood when I was growing up, I’ve always had a fascination with fireflies. After my wife and I bought our house in the suburbs, I was sure there would be some out here. Nope, skunked again. However, over the past few years, we have started to see some in our neighborhood. Last year there were a lot, and this year there are even more.
For obvious reasons, I always thought fireflies had a magical quality about them. In the past I never really had the chance to explore that idea. However, the other night my thesis was confirmed. I was out walking my dog on a very hot and humid evening. Suddenly, the path before me was a mass of glittering fireflies. I felt like I had been transported to the Elven City of Rivendell. I almost looked around for Frodo and his traveling companions. Magic indeed.
I was reminded of a TV show I had seen many years ago. It may have been Stephen Spielberg’s Amazing Stories. A young boy is disappointed to learn that magic is just an illusion. In order to console him, his father tells him to take a stick and drag it along some reeds in their backyard. A large cloud of fireflies emerges from the reeds, confirming that magic does indeed exist. Somewhere, Albus Dumbledore is giving us a sly wink.
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