I know. I know. It is later than usual. I admit I allowed my sloth to drive. I took my time on the paper and all the puzzles (which I successfully completed), ordered my groceries and paid some bills. I even brought some trash to the car and dusted a couple of shelves. All of this was done with not a list in sight, and I am not even finished. I have more I want to do today including vacuuming the tumbleweeds of Henry fur.

When I was a kid, I was never really into clothes. I was into comfort. The only exceptions were when I was a teen, and I wore the uniform of every teen especially one year, the year of stirrup ski pants and fluffy sweaters. My sweater was pink. My pants were black. In Ghana I had to wear dresses every day. During my first year I had several made with Ghanaian cloth by a seamstress. That was for when I was in public. In the house, after my shower, I wore comfy clothes. I really didn’t complain so much about the dresses. They were cool in the heat. For most of my professional life here I wore dresses and skirts. I was not a fan of either. My winter comfy clothes were hoodies, pants and flannel shirts while in summer I wore mostly short sleeve shirts and exchanged my shoes for sandals. Around the house I wear t-shirts and casual pants, not fit for the eyes of the outside world. My inside clothes are often worn in places and have holes, but I don’t care. My fashion sense ends when I walk into the house.

Today is hot and partly cloudy. Nary a breeze blows. I have the fan going here in the den. It is cool enough. Both dogs are sleeping. Earlier they were both panting, Nala far more than Henry. Poor boxers don’t abide the heat well. Nala is asleep beside me and enjoying the fan. I don’t mind sharing.

I have always loved summer nights. In the field below my house fireflies flitted and darted, their flames blinking as they flew across the tall grass. I used to sit on the embankment above the hill and watch. I’d try to follow one firefly. I found out in my trusty encyclopedia that both males and females blink. The males blink to attract females, and the females blink their responses. Their flashes sync. When I was really little, I thought fireflies were fairies, relatives of Tinker Bell. I could hear from beyond the field the sounds of frogs and crickets on the swamp. The sounds were really songs, quiet, rhythmic songs. I used to love to fall asleep listening to them.

I have fireflies in my yard and frog songs from the tiny pond at the end of my street. Because they are there, I still believe in fairies and night music.

This entry was posted on August 28, 2026 at 2:21 pm and is filed under Musings. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.