Day 16: Pim finds out how he makes his own light.

Tonight's question was written in green crayon, in wobbly letters that went uphill. "Pim, how do you make your light? Does it burn your tummy? I hope not. From a child who keeps a jar with holes in the lid, but lets the fireflies go before bed." Pim laughed when he read it, and then he went quiet. It was the very same thing Ivo the fisherman had asked him in the harbor.

"I still do not know the answer," Pim told Nell. He glowed on and off, on and off, and looked at his own light. "The bats said I am a piece of a star, and Ivo asked if I get hot. I want to know for myself." The Night Wind tapped at the window. "Then come with me," it said. "I know a meadow by a river where your cousins live. They will know."

The River Meadow Full of Fireflies

The Night Wind carried them over dark hills, and Pim sang, "Slow wings, soft light. The lamp is on tonight." Then they dropped down into a long meadow beside a slow river. Tall grass swayed, and frogs sang from the reeds. And everywhere, all over the meadow, little lights were blinking. Hundreds and hundreds of fireflies were flying over the grass, flashing on and off. Pim's mouth fell open, and then he whooped and zoomed straight into the middle of them.

Nell floated after him, laughing, while the fireflies flashed all around her. Some of them blinked fast and some of them blinked slowly. Some flashed two times and then waited, and some flashed once, long and bright. "Blink, blink, glow," Nell said, trying to count. Old Bea landed on a stem of grass beside Pim, and her light was soft and steady. "Welcome, cousin," she said. "You came a long way, by the look of your wings."

Pim told Bea about the bats in the fig tree, and about Ivo in the harbor, and about the child with the green crayon, and Bea listened carefully to every word. "The bats tell a lovely old story," she said kindly, "and many creatures believe it. But we fireflies are not pieces of stars. We are small beetles, little insects with wings, and we have always been fireflies. Our light is our very own. We make it ourselves, inside our bodies."

"Inside?" said Pim, and he twisted around to look at his tail. "Yes," said Bea. "At the end of your body, there is a special place for light. Inside it, some special things mix together with the air you breathe in. When they mix, they glow. That is your light." Nell floated close and looked at Pim's tail very carefully. "Blink, blink, glow," she whispered.

"And does it burn?" asked Pim, remembering the crayon letter. Bea chuckled. "Not at all," she said. "A lamp gets hot when it shines, and a candle gets hot too. But our light is cold light. It makes almost no heat at all. You could glow all night long and never get warm." Pim touched his own glow with one leg to check, and it was true. It felt cool and soft, the same as it always had.

Flashing Patterns in the Grass

"Then why do we blink?" asked Pim. "Why not glow steady all the time?" Bea pointed her feelers across the meadow. "Watch," she said. Down in the grass, one firefly flashed twice, short and quick. Up in the air, another flashed twice back. Then the two lights flew toward each other and met. "We flash to find each other in the dark," said Bea. "Each kind of firefly has its own pattern. It is how we say, here I am."

Pim tried it right away. He flashed once, then once again, then one long glow. Across the meadow, a little firefly answered with the very same flashes. Pim spun in a circle with joy. "Blink, blink, glow!" he shouted. Nell clapped her points together and bounced up and down on a stem of grass. "Then that can be your pattern for me," she said. "Two short and one long. If I ever lose you in the dark, I will look for it." Pim promised her that he would always flash it.

Bea flashed her own pattern for them, one slow glow that faded away gently. "Now you know what you are, cousin," she said. "Tell the bats, if you ever see them again, and tell the child with the green crayon too." Pim promised that he would. He flew one last loop over the meadow, and all the fireflies blinked back at him.

Soon the Night Wind came rippling through the tall grass. "Home now," it said. The fireflies blinked goodbye, hundreds of little lights all over the meadow. "Slow wings, soft light. The lamp is on tonight," Pim sang as they rose. Far away, the little house was waiting, with Grandma Ada's lamp left on in the window. Pim flashed his new pattern at the dark: two short, one long. He was not a piece of a star. He was a firefly, and his light was his own.

They landed softly on the windowsill, beside the striped pebble and June's folded paper. Nell crept into her teacup and pulled the edge of the green leaf over her for a blanket. Pim settled on the green leaf and glowed, cool and steady, beside the lamp. "The lamp is on. The door is near. And all is well here," he whispered. He gave one last slow flash for Nell, two short and one long, and she smiled in her sleep.

Little Lights in the Summer Dark

Here are three small things to watch for tonight. Watch for a firefly, if you live where fireflies blink in the summer, and see if its flashes have a pattern. Watch for a light that does not feel hot, a glowing sticker on the ceiling or a little nightlight, and wonder how it was made. And watch for someone who says goodnight to you in their own special way, the way only they do. Then let your own light grow dim and slow, and sleep.

Day 17: The whole sky turns slowly through the night.

"Papa, look, there is a tiny light flashing two short and one long!" a girl cried from the shore of a lake. Pim was flashing his new pattern for Nell, the way he had promised in the river meadow. He had flashed it all the way across the dark hills, just for practice. Now he stopped in mid-air and looked down. A girl and her father were sitting by a small tent at the edge of the water.

The lake was so still that it held a whole sky of stars. Not one ripple moved across it. Nell floated down to the edge and looked at the stars in the water, and then up at the stars in the sky. "Slow wings, soft light. The lamp is on tonight," Pim sang, and they flew over to the tent. Rosa waved at them from inside a big wool blanket.

A Tent by the Still Lake

Rosa's father was pouring warm milk from a pot over a little camp stove. He handed Rosa a cup and gave Pim and Nell a tiny cap from the milk bottle, with three warm drops inside. "We are staying up to watch the sky turn," Rosa said. "Papa says the stars move all night long." Nell looked up in surprise. "Do they?" she asked. "I thought the stars stayed in their places."

Nell had worried about this for a long time. If the stars moved, how could she ever find her own place again? Rosa's father smiled. "Let us watch and see," he said. "Pick one star, a bright one, and remember exactly where it is." Pim zoomed over to the shore. A tall pine tree stood there, black against the sky. Right above its pointed top shone one bright star.

The Star Above the Pine

"That one," said Pim. "The star just above the top of the pine tree." They all looked at it and remembered. Then Rosa drank her milk, and her father told a story about a fox who could not find his boots. Pim chased a moth around the tent and lost it in the dark, and Nell rolled along the shore and back again. Some time passed, and the lake stayed perfectly still. "Now look again," said Rosa's father.

Pim looked up at the pine tree. The bright star was no longer above its top. It had moved over to one side, toward where the sun goes down in the evening. Pim flew right up to the treetop to check. "It moved!" he cried. "The star moved across the sky!" Nell gasped. All the other stars had moved too, all together, all in the same direction. "Round and round, so slow," said Rosa's father.

A Spin on the Shore

"But why?" asked Nell. "Are the stars falling?" Rosa's father shook his head. "No, the stars are not falling, and they are not wandering off," he said. "We are the ones moving. The whole Earth is a great round ball, and it is always turning, very slowly. Because the Earth turns, the stars seem to move across the sky. They rise in the east and travel over to the west."

Rosa jumped up, still wrapped in her blanket, and nearly tipped over her cup. "I can show you," she said. She stood in one spot and began to turn around, slowly, step by step. "When I turn, the tent goes past me," she said, "and then the lake, and then the pine tree. But they are not moving at all. I am the one who is turning." She turned and turned until she was dizzy, and Pim spun around with her, laughing.

The Sun Across the Sky

"It is the same with the sun," said Rosa's father. "The sun comes up in the east every morning and goes down in the west. The sun is not running across the sky. The Earth is turning, and that makes the sun seem to move. At night, it makes the stars seem to move." Pim sat on the edge of the milk cap, sipped his last warm drop and thought hard. "Round and round, so slow," he said softly.

Nell looked up at the sky for a long time. "So the stars keep their places," she said slowly. "They stay with each other, all together. The whole sky only seems to turn because we are turning." Rosa's father nodded. "That is right," he said. "Your place is still there, little star. It turns with all the others." Nell's light grew a little brighter, and she smiled for the first time all night.

Warm Bread on the Wind

Rosa was yawning now, and her father tucked her into the tent. The Night Wind came drifting low across the still lake, and for the first time a ripple ran over the water. "Home, little ones," it whispered. "Another night I will take you somewhere warm that smells of fresh bread." Pim and Nell waved goodbye to the tent. "Slow wings, soft light. The lamp is on tonight," Pim sang as they rose.

The Lamp Beneath the Turning Sky

Grandma Ada's lamp was shining in the window of the little house, a light left on for them under the turning sky. The Night Wind set them down on the sill, and Pim gave one flash for June, two short and one long. June was asleep and did not see it, but that was all right. "The lamp is on. The door is near. And all is well here," Pim whispered.

Nell lay in her teacup and looked up through the window glass. Above the little house, the stars seemed to move across the sky, so slowly that no one could see it happen. The Earth was turning, and the house was turning with it, and the lamp, and the teacup, and the two friends. "Round and round, so slow," Nell whispered. Her light dimmed. Pim's light dimmed. And they slept.