From a retired science teacher in St. Louis, Missouri:
When my mother was young, she slipped out one evening with her Mason jar to collect some fireflies. As she ran through the grass, she tripped and fell on a rock, and the jar shattered in her hands . A sharp glass shard sliced its way through her finger. Even though she eventually lost that finger, she never did lose the love she had for these silent sparks.
It was July,1964. I was 11 years old,and I had just learned about fireflies in the first place,and my parents and grandma and I were driving back from visiting family members in South Carolina.It was night,and we drove through Ohio in the countryside.We drove past a field,and lots and lots of fireflies were flying around,so many of them,they were lighting up the field.
Kathleen Camilla King
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Wonderful memory – thank you for sharing this!
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