In Ohio my dad drives down a dirt road through the corn field, his headlights off just after dusk, and we watch the swarms of fireflies stream past like lightning over husks. Above them the stars form a river, the edge of the Milkyway looking in. Everything is flat and round here. Please keep the headlights off. The fields will be plowed. The fireflies are dying. Just see them blink.
Here, in the UP, there are few fields. Five years in, I’ve yet to see a firefly. I start to miss Ohio.