We are having August weather in June, and this accelerated climate change brings about the very worst and absolute best aspects of summer: lower back sweat and fireflies, respectively.
Fireflies are one of my earliest memories, in grandpa moll's backyard in Illinois. And on these hot brooklyn nights, they come out of NOWHERE, lighting up right in front of me and swerving in front of my face, looking so magical. How are fireflies not more popular?
just look at this face:
other animals that are surprisingly
not a really big deal:
I've been lucky enough to own some of these animal kingdom gems.
My albino hamster, Zittle, used to escape at night and scurry up entire staircases, freak out our two cats, and would be routinely rescued from behind the fridge by my dad.
I had an enormous bowl of pet tadpoles for about an hour, when I got to take them home from preschool. Knowing they were actually frogs from the day's lesson about baby animals, I poured the bowl out into the backyard, and a pile of tadpoles passed away before they got to develop.
I raised ducks in my college dorm room, Zanzabar and the Little Lady, and they started off as tiny little yellow ducks and grew into majestic white feathered life companions that lived on for years in my parent's backyard. That is, until the Raccoon Incident. And the Coyote Incident.
I once drove a seagull to the ocean, in my car. He had a broken wing and was covered in crude oil, so my brother and I put it up in shotgun and drove it to the waterfront in Anacortes, and set it free. We watched it sink into the water, about 20 feet off shore.
