I wonder why it is some people call them fireflies and others call them lightning bugs? Is it regional, like soda and pop, or sack and bag?
In any case, the three of us ate out on the back porch tonight and I was impressed with how many fireflies were putting in an appearance. We got into a discussion about the increased numbers being due to rehearsals for their big 4th of July extravaganza, put on for the viewing pleasure of the local wildlife. It was fun thinking about a magnificent "light" show, put on in some mystical woodland glen. It makes quite an interesting picture to spin in the mind. What a sight!
Looking downstairs from my perch just outside the computer studio as Faithful Scribe transcribes this, I have a bird's eye view of the summer tree in the living room. In the current setting, the little white lights look like fireflies. I never thought of that before. One of these days, I must tell you about our summer beauty!
We've been talking about the 4th of July when I was little, back in Baltimore. What I mostly remember are the sounds - the effervescent fizzy sound of a sparkler, the loud BOOM! of the small but powerful yellow fireworks my brother Al liked so much, the noises drifting to our house from throughout the neighborhood of fire crackers going off and lots of laughter and sounds of merriment.
Aside from the firecrackers, I don't have a lot of memories of those days in Baltimore. I wonder why that is? I do remember, for the first time in I cannot tell you how long, that we had a small barn out at the gend of our property and we would eat our supper in its cool comfort, much much nicer that the hot house. Have you ever been in Baltimore in the summer? Hot and humid, very hot and humid. Sticky.
One thing could always be counted on to cool us down - home-made ice cream. Oh, that was heavenly. Back then, we made it in a big wooden tub. My father would pour in the fresh cream and let us kids take a whack at churning it. He would set a smaller tub into a larger tub, with ice and salt packed between the two. Papa would let us take a hand, moving the handle around in a circular motion, around and around, which moved the paddle, which was in the cream and worked its magic. We kids would take turns churning it around, until it got too thick for us, then Papa would take over and finish off the job. When it was too hard to move another inch, he would slowly, ever so slowly, lift the paddle out. Oh, that was the very best moment of all, when we got to lick the paddle. What happiness. Then Papa would put the metal lid on top of the small tub and we would pack in more ice and rock salt around and over it and cover the whole thing with burlap.
July 4th would probably be too early for it, but my favorite ice cream was peach. The peaches came off of that same Bella Georgia peach tree that I managed to rescue when just a little mite. We'd peel the beautifully ripe peaches and cut them up and add them to the cream. That ranks, for me, as angel's food! When they were in season, the Reynolds household had peach ice cream every Sunday!
I think I will go downstairs and see if there is any ice cream in the freezer!
Thinking of you all as we head into the 4th of July home stretch, and of so many loved ones in loftier realms who I am sure are enjoying some peach ice cream at this very minute.
Love - Grammie Kay