Thank you for the fire-fly tales. True-love took me to the Midwest on a trip to visit his home country and these stories, all of them on this thread, remind me of the wonders we saw.
There is a poem by Thomas Moore about Dismal swamp which features, along with doomed lovers, a Fire-fly lamp. I fancy I've heard True-love sing a little piece of a song about them too. I'll ask when he wakes up.
It's the time of moths here now. Big Granny moths, soft brown with big eyespots of irridescent green on their wings and tiny pale moths that fly against our windows and get pounced on by Tree Frogs. The annual pilgrimage of Bogong moths will start soon. They fly over us on their way to the High Plains. Since the Dreamtime they have made this migration, steering their course by the stars. Now, sadly, the lights of our cities distract millions of them so that fewer make it to their breeding place on Mount Bogong. If only we could persuade people to turn off the lights for a couple of nights a year. Sigh!. Joy