I had just dropped the boy off at his friend's house. I saw what looked to be a child's rocking chair on the side of the road awaiting the refuse truck. Closer inspection yielded a tale of particular misfortune: one curved arm missing, caned seat hopelessly caved in. Still, it had been loved. Traces of various coats of paint and craftsmanship told the tale of a long life. I turned it over and fit it into the car where a passenger's legs might have been. The only passenger, 'tho, was a firefly who had nothing better to do since it was morning. I brought it home after removing a spider's egg sac. I made my husband roll his eyes until I clarified that it was for the garden. I cut out the cane seat and toyed with framing part of the pattern for indoors because it was pretty remarkable up close. I have limited wall space, so eventually that idea was vetoed. I went looking for pink geraniums and a pot that would sink into, but be supported by, the chair seat's frame (the size of which proved to be a challenge since this turned out not to be a child's rocker at all). By the way, a few days later I saw its twin on an episode of Little House on the Prairie (I am NOT kidding)! I asked my father-in-law how to protect it from the elements and now it lives in a bed of violets making me smile repeatedly. The firefly was either very attached to the chair or became attached to me. He stayed on until way passed dark, and there I was driving that night laughing and laughing each time he lit up the interior of my car! When I got a hold of myself, we had a very serious conversation about where he really ought to be in life by now, and with some coaxing he went to assume his relegated post in some one's yard to the delight of many, I am sure.
