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Summer breeze makes me feel fine

It’s another windows-open kind of night here in Portland. The breeze blowing through the woods just behind my building sounds reminiscent of dry leaves rattling in the crisp wind of an autumn day in Ohio. Prior to moving here, I hadn’t really considered that there were places in existence that didn’t have Midwest-style wind (though I don’t miss the bone-chilling winter wind), rain in the summer (let alone thunderstorms), or lightning bugs. A couple of weeks ago, I overheard a few guys at work talking excitedly about lightning bugs as if they were discussing rainbow-pooping unicorns. I walked over to them and – after discovering that only one of the guys had seen fireflies before, and he had only seen them once, so his description of them was so wacky – I regaled them with poetic stories about the magic of lightning bugs…and how, if you’re a sadistic turd, you can smoosh one on your ring finger and flaunt it to your cohorts. Picture 40-60 year old engineers doing that. Oh, yes.

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