Summer evokes the giddiness of a child in me, even as a grown adult. There is much to love about summertime, especially as a child and plenty to reminisce about as I drift through my sunset years.  
 
The simplicity of being a child is something I reflect on frequently. I recall the wonder, the freedom and the adventure, wherever we could find it.  A bike ride down the creek road before dusk was a treasure.  We would see bunnies and other animals scurrying around searching for the last scraps of food before settling down for the night.  As for the fox, they were just beginning their furtive nocturnal hunt.  Often, we would string up our homemade fishing poles and attempt to catch a trout or two in the fresh-water creek. Mostly, we caught minnows in a net.
 
Today, I ponder the bright sunrise of summer, celebrate more daylight hours and am still mesmerized by colorful sunsets.  I also love the gentle rain showers that often produce beautiful rainbows. Rainbows were so magical as a child. Actually, they still evoke a sense of fairy tales. Oh, the wonderment.

As I celebrate summer, rainbows and the sun, I am reminded of one July overnight voyage from Stockholm to Helsinki. I was an adult then.
 
We embarked late afternoon aboard the Silja Symphony, cruised for 16 hours down the Archipelago Sea of the Baltic Ocean and arrived early morning in Helsinki. The sun was shining the entire journey. That was my first experience with the phenomenon - the "Land of the Midnight Sun."
 
There I was, lounging on the 13th level of a 2,800-passenger sea ferry.  I was mesmerized by the sun and the prolonged twilight, but a bit disappointed that there was too much light to see the Northern Lights.
 
Nonetheless, as I laid there in the lounge chair, I let my thoughts drift to summer childhood nights in rural Pennsylvania and all the joyful things we found to do to amuse ourselves for the few weeks we had before school started again. 
 
Chasing fireflies was one of my favorite activities. As the sun set and dusk rolled in around this time of the evening, a couple of the kids who lived down the road would arrive with their jars to join in the evening ritual.
 
 Before everyone arrived, I would go to the garage to get set up with my “capturing” equipment. That was simple to do. I would grab a Mason jar from Mama’s canning supply and puncture holes in the tin lid with a nail and hammer. Then, all we kids would run from the garage to the garden hose to add a few drops of water to our jars.  From there it was a wild dash into the field, stooping just long enough to snap off a few green grasses to add to the jar for bedding and food. I thought that was not only necessary but a kind thing to do for the fireflies.  
 
Slowing down was difficult to do in all the excitement, but we would stand still and quiet, our eyes scanning the darkness for the magical beacons to flash on and off.  As they did, we were quick to dart from one spot to another. Taking the lid off just as you were about to capture a firefly was tricky, especially after there were a couple of fireflies already in your jar. Laughter and joy overcame the stillness of the night and the hunt went on until we were called in with the shrill of a two-finger whistle.  That was Daddy.
 
After the hunt, we would all assemble on the screened porch to admire our catches and enjoy the jug of sweet tea and cookies that Mama had ready for us. Mama was known for her sweet tea.  It was another summer childhood treasure that all my friends knew about.
 
There was always some friendly competition as to who caught the most fireflies and, in our individual opinions, which firefly was determined to be the biggest.  Somehow, we worked that determination out among ourselves.  Bragging rights were top of mind for the next day wherever adventures took each of us.  By nighttime, though, a new hunt was on and another champion would emerge.
 
Chasing the first fireflies of summer barefoot across the field was pure freedom.  No schedules, no homework and a chance to sleep in the next morning.  This freedom was the epitome of a childhood summer. It was educational, too, though.  The wonderment of why and how fireflies shine their beacon led me to open the Encyclopedia Brittanica to learn that the lifespan of these magical creatures is just two to four weeks long.  My research was also an introduction into the scientific world of bioluminescence. That natural chemical phenomenon inside organisms that produces a cold light is magical.  This is the secret behind the on/off beacons of fireflies and one of the most famous examples of bioluminescence.
 
Catching fireflies were mesmerizing moments. Summer was too short!