Tonight's summer evening takes me back to the many nights I spent sitting on my grandmother's front porch. After dinner was eaten and dishes were done we always ended up gathered on the screened-in porch that stood across the front of her cedar-shingled house. A few chairs were scattered about, along with a double glider bench, and a wooden porch swing.
With the heat of the night's meal hanging in the un-air-conditioned house the porch provided cool relief and a place to talk about the day or anything else that came to mind. Mostly I just listened and watched the adults as they chatted, laughed and rocked or swung as the last golds, oranges, and yellows of the sun disappeared below the horizon of the cornfield next to the house. Before long the yellow sunlight was replaced by the yellow glow of flickering fireflies as they danced in the front yard. That was my cue to grab a Mason jar- ready with air holes poked through the top-and run out the front door and down the three giant cement stairs to catch as many lighting bugs as I could.
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