Fireflies and Pagan Spirit

My parents farm is in the process of coming out of CRP in the next few years. It lays on the edge of the Driftless Region. You can sit on the top of the hills and see seemingly whole world rolling around you. The native grasses gently weave around you and down through the valleys and bluffs. Sound travels in unusual ways making you feel isolated and exposed all at the same time. The sound of crickets and woodland creatures are as soft as a whisper while the cars on the highway three miles away sound louder than a marching band. It’s one of the most lovely places to sit and watch the night tumble in.

There is a magic in sitting among the changes of twilight. It is the in-between time, the doorway, to daily life and nightly dreams. Every possibility seems opened to exploring and no idea is too crazy.  Most importantly it feels as if the land is holding one tightly in the warm embrace of love, a mother’s warm quilt cuddled around you. I never feel as peaceful and joyful as I do sitting among the hills while twilight wraps around me. It calls deeply to my Pagan soul.

I tried to capture the beauty of the fireflies coming out. Sadly, my camera skills are just not there yet. I love fireflies (who doesn’t!). I used to capture them and hold them in jars when I was little. It was my very own fairy light. I loved how you could gently just move your hand beneath the fireflies and have them land on your hand. Now the romance of the mating lights woo me in a different way. The magic of “fairyness” still lingers in the air, but the symbolism of shining your brightest to find some other light in the night to share in your joy and love is more poignant. There is nothing sweeter.