Call me a hater, but there are a lot of things I loathe about summer in New York. The heat, the humidity, the incessant mechanical humming of air conditioners and the lack of quietude. Some people love this weather; I personally am not a fan of the heat. I have dreams of working remotely from Greenland. I would choose to live in Antarctica if fresh produce were more readily available.
Summers on the East Coast are relatively new for me, so maybe I just need more time to adjust. I moved here in September 2021 and prior to that had lived in San Francisco, Ireland, and Washington State – places with (historically) mild weather. Since then every summer has been the hottest summer of my life. Apparently I did not inherit any of the Taiwanese genes resistant to subtropical climates.
So those are my complaints. Well actually there are more, like how the heat makes some people terrifyingly belligerent. But there is one good thing! The best part about summers here so far: fireflies. Easily. Or as someone corrected me the other day: “lightning bugs.”
Fireflies are absolutely the most wonderful thing about living with a hot and sticky summer. The entire month of June they’ve been lighting up my neighborhood and local parks. Their season is a short one (they only last a few weeks) so I’m trying to enjoy them while I can. I do my grocery shopping after sunset so I can catch glimpses of them on my way to and from the store.
Several times a week this past month, arms laden with bags of nectarines, I have stood outside strangers’ yards in the dark, peering into their gardens to watch the fireflies. To add to the creepiness factor, I sometimes whisper “show me your butts” because fireflies are only visible at night when their rear ends light up.
Their ephemerality, the way they glow and twinkle and are seen one moment and gone the next, is truly enchanting. They’re difficult to photograph and even harder to capture in paint.
Typically the fireflies I’ve seen in the city have a greenish-yellow glow, but when Thane and I drove out to Sunken Meadow State Park late one night, the fireflies that lived there (close to the ocean) appeared to be almost blueish-white.
I tried my best to paint how it feels to be surrounded by these creatures in the verdant, humid atmosphere of summertime at night, but it’s really the way they move and blink that makes them feel truly magical.
Fireflies have the ability to control their light – they flash patterns and use their bioluminescence as a form of communication. Bioluminescence is relatively rare on land – it’s much more common in the ocean, where it is estimated that 76% of ocean animals are bioluminescent. How fascinating is it that some species use light as their language?
Thane and I tried to emulate the wonders of bioluminescence by creating a light show in our kitchen, using dry ice and lasers:
It ended up looking more like Voldemort’s cauldron than anything else and it is much cooler when a living creature can produce light from its own body, but the dry ice experiment reminded me a bit of the way the aurora borealis dances.
I suspect that us humans have a language of light embedded in our biology as well, just in a different way. For many millennia our species have had rituals around light, such as solstice celebrations, and ceremonies involving the moon and stars. Our circadian rhythms are sensitive to light (we tend to sleep better when it’s dark) and we light candles for all sorts of occasions, everything from birthdays to funerals.
Last week, on what was the hottest day of the year thus far, I celebrated Midsummer with two friends and roughly fifty strangers. We danced, sang songs, and ate food together while sweating profusely. I am an introvert so this could have been a complete nightmare, but it was fantastic. Casper ter Kuile, author of The Power of Ritual: Turning Everyday Activities into Soulful Practices hosted the event in a way that made everyone feel included, comfortable, and part of something bigger than themselves. Together we welcomed in the longest days of the year in the Northern Hemisphere.
The thing that stood out to me the most was when everyone wrote on a little piece of paper something that they wanted to let go of, and then burned it in the fire. It reminded me why I write this newsletter in the first place, and why it is called “Constellations.”
When life feels difficult and full of darkness, how do we seek out the bright points, find meaning, and search for connections? How do we cast aside what no longer serves us and move towards what feels alive and radiant? How do we cultivate an inner language of light?
Wishing you all a gentle lightness and a glow that comes from within. Thanks for reading.
Love,
Melanie
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♥
I love fireflies too! Reminds me of my childhood ❤️
Heart this very much! Fireflies are such a delight and wonder. I'll never forget when I learned about the chemical process that makes their light come alive and the first time I ever saw one. Thank you for writing and sharing with us.