The most beautiful thing in the evening are the fireflies. They arise on all sides in droves of millions. Once I paused while down the creek; I looked westward and gasped with the beauty. As if by some preconceived plan they all flashed simultaneously. It was like some wonderful strain of music. They rivaled the starry night in splendor. Blackness of night accentuates them.
Charles Burchfield, June 13, 1914