Firefly Therapy
Night heals the day on the edge of Lake Ontario
In July, I talk to fireflies. I see the first one about the same time neighbors are going crazy setting off their fireworks. “Hello, sweetheart!”
Lightning bugs have become a rarity in over-built, over-lit, over-poisoned eastern U.S.A., an occasional jewel in a suburban backyard. But I live on the edge. Our fifty feet of shoreline on Lake Ontario gives me the opportunity to let our yard grow wild. This sultry July, I was rewarded with a light show — fireflies everywhere!
My husband is recovering from back surgery and bedtime requires a sequence of rituals to get him safely under the covers. Then I can breathe. I can go out on the porch and look into the darkness. On clear, moonless nights I see stars — the Big Dipper pointing to the North Star is my constant. I take pictures.
But fireflies have a special charm. They are not celestial. They are earth-bound creatures, living most of their lives underground. We humans project our imaginations onto the stars, seeing dragons and bears and ancient heroes in stars that bear no connection to one another in deep space. But lightning bugs fill the night with real relationships— ready for sex, flashing their beacons for the evening’s hookup, lights throbbing like tiny heartbeats. I am enchanted.
Technical
Photo #1, taken with Sony α9, 24–70 mm. lens at 24 mm., f/2.8, 30-second exposures, ISO 640. About 15 photos over the course of 15 minutes, layered in Photoshop.
Photo #2, taken with Sony α6000, 18–55 mm. lens at 18 mm., f/3.5, 30-second exposures, ISO 800. About 15 photos over the course of 15 minutes, layered in Photoshop.
Photo #3, taken with Sony α6000, 18–55 mm. lens at 18 mm., f/3.5, 30-second exposures, ISO 640. About 15 photos over the course of 15 minutes, layered in Photoshop.
