Chasing Fireflies

I went out for a cup of coffee as night fell.  Alright, I went out for a brownie. The coffee was an accompaniment that I ordered out of habit. Post stroke, I’ve cut my consumption to a cup a day. It’s a 12 to 16 oz cup, mind you, but still a cup. Until recently a 32 oz press was scarcely enough to start my day. The funny thing is, I don’t miss it.

It helps that my local shop has switched suppliers. Their coffee is different. New names. The new names are new fangled. They’re names the roaster gave them. These names are given to intrigue you to taste and purchase.’s They don’t tell you where a coffee is from or how it was processed. Not seeing the name of the country/region listed with the bean is unusual for me. Where a coffee is from determines–to a large degree–it’s flavor profile.  I can and do ask the baristas, but their knowledge is general. They’re still getting to know the coffee too. It’s a barrier. I buy less coffee here are a result. Last night I ordered a cup and learned on first sip that it was Ethopian. The delicate fruity aroma of the cup, it’s berry flavor and medium body gave it away.  The coffee is 30% more expensive. That’s another a barrier. If I’m going to pay $17 for a bag of coffee, I’ll buy a top rated bean from a great roaster.  If I’m counting pennies, which I am, I’ll choose another local supplier. So I purchased a cup with my amazing 4×4 brownie and walked back home. As I did, I chased fireflies.

Growing up chasing fireflies was a low-tech summer activity. All we needed was a thirty-two ounce jar with a perforated lid. We’d place grass torn from the lawn at the bottom of the jar. Supplies gathered, we were ready. My sibs and I would run and catch fireflies in our hands and place them in the jar. After a time we’d stop and stare at the jar. We were waiting for them to blink. I suppose we thought we’d made a natural flashlight.  They didn’t blink. Given what we know about fireflies, I’m not surprised. We had no idea that we’d become Godzilla, Mothra and Ghidora on their night out. http://www.nytimes.com/2009/06/30/science/30firefly.html?pagewanted=all

Tonight I walk, cup of coffee in one hand and brownie in the other. I can only chase the fireflies. I can’t catch them.

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