An old friend has arrived to spend the rest of the summer with me. The Evening Star, also known as Venus, is shining bright in the evening sky, hovering just above the woods to the west.

We like to sit on the porch at this time of year. Well, actually, only I am on the porch, lying in the hammock, mostly. The hammock faces due west where my old friend shines as I look straight ahead on these evenings, then drops in a forward-slash direction to the northwest horizon.

I like to spend some quality time with my friend at the end of a workday. It's an especially quiet and peaceful time, after the sun goes down, as the birds settle in to wherever they settle in, and even the traffic out front grows light. The surroundings grow dim, the sweat evaporates, and if I'm lucky a bit of delightful cool breeze wafts.

I love the porch and the yard in summer, always have. I remember at the old homeplace we had a long front yard unobstructed by trees or shrubs. We liked to sit under the shade tree next to the house, and as a kid I was on watch in the approaching dusk for lightning bugs.

When the bugs started to flash, off I'd go with an old Ann Page glass mayonnaise jar in hand. They put mayonnaise and many other groceries, even milk, in glass jars back in those classical times. Ann Page was the store brand of the old A&P supermarket that sat just up the hill from the city hall's location in Elkin today.

Mom had instructed me to punch some holes in the top of the metal, yes metal, not plastic, jar lid. I'd sweep a hand in the path of a lightning bug and cup him inside my fist. Later I learned I could just get the bug to gently alight on my hand instead.

Then into the jar he would go, where his friends and maybe some family awaited. If I got enough of the bugs I'd have a flashing lantern.

I was supposed to let the bugs go when I was through playing, but I didn't always do it. I regret that.

There doesn't seem to be as many lightning bugs as there used to be, but then I'm not out hunting them anymore. Retired when I was about 6. But I do appreciate the silent flashing of the bugs I do see these days as it enhances the peace and quiet I enjoy from the vantage point of my hammock. When I see those bugs, I know it's going to get real peaceful and still and dark.

Not long ago, during the heat wave, I hit the hammock at the end of a full work week. It was late, already dark, and I put the TV on the porch and watched a while to relax a bit before bed.

As I dozed I began to hear some extra entertainment. I first thought it was coming from the TV, but I turned the set off with the remote and it was still there. There was talking off in the distance. Then I heard a couple of yells. Before long there was music floating through the cool night air. I had a flashback to some nights in the old dorm. I noticed the Evening Star had gone and hid.

Occasionally I hear from the porch some awful rap with exaggerated bass coming briefly from the open windows of a passing car, but this was something new, something I had never experienced before in my quiet, peaceful neighborhood. It was coming from the woods, in back and down the slope to the south.

I could see nothing, so I walked through the dark night down to the edge of a neighbor's backyard and at the woods edge but still could see nothing. But I could still hear the talking, a few scattered yells and music. Nothing particularly loud or annoying, I could not make out any words or even any songs, but it was novel nonetheless.

I became indignant at not being invited to the party myself and stomped off for the house and bed. I drifted off to sleep with strains of the partying coming through the open windows.

I awoke as day was breaking, and the partying was still going on, at 5:30 a.m. No music, glad they had at least cut that out. But I continued to hear the talking and the odd yell or two until 6 a.m. and daylight.

Later I was assured that everything was all right, nothing sinister was going on, just youthful neighbors who had set up camp and had taken to inviting friends. I thought of a line from an old Tim McGraw song about "country boys and girls gettin' down on the farm."

I realized they were just chasing lightning bugs. Not with an A&P jar like I used to have, but they were just enjoying these fine summer nights in a way of their choosing. They almost had as much fun in the woods as I had once with lightning bugs in the front yard.

It's been summer and the nights were too sweet to spend merely in work or sleep. It's a time to get together with friends, whether real or stellar, talk into the night even after you can't distinguish the features of the face who's talking to you. Maybe grab a piece of melon and spit the seeds in the grass. And don't dare turn on a light.

Hope you’ve been able to chase some lightning bugs or chase some youthful folly or maybe still have the opportunity to squeeze out the last bit of summer like a sweet orange half. I bet you'll remember such fine summer nights for the rest of your life and will continue to savor how precious these nights are.

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Postscript: On a personal note, I mention the passing of a role model during my youth, Elder Cabel Cox, who as a pastor taught me the Word of God in words and deeds. I admire how he honored Christ. Thank you, Cabel. May God bless the family.

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Stephen Harris returned home to live in State Road