It’s summertime in the south, which means ripening watermelons, the stifling humidity, and flickering fireflies. Twice in the past two weeks I have traipsed out at dusk with a mason jar and nephews and friends’ kids in tow to chase lightning bugs. Within seconds, dozens of flashing neon dots enveloped us. Excitement surged through my veins. We began stalking the illusive insects, darting and reaching and following deeper into the darkness. The children squealed, usually in declaration of a capture, but also in the anxiety of holding a fluttering insect inside their tightly-clenched fists. Each bug was deposited into a mason jar where we could observe them more closely. There,…