In spite of dozens of brands of insect repellents, we wage a one-sided war against the insects. Simply put, they outnumber us probably millions to one.

Summer allows ants and beetles and mosquitoes to invade, settle in and thrive. Although I do my part to keep these pests in their place, some summer bugs don't bug me at all. In fact, I actually look forward to their annual return.

Lightning bugs in mid-June officially open summer for me. I sit on the porch as soon as evenings are the right temperature and wait for the show.

Somehow everything is right with the world when those tiny bugs on their mating missions hover and glow around the shrubs. I don't know if kids still try to catch them and put in a jar anymore, but they should, just to "ooh" and "aah" at this tiny wonder of nature.

Once in a while when no one is looking, I'll catch one when it flies too close, and as it crawls on my hand, I marvel at the original green technology -- these bugs with the built-in light bulbs. And they blink every twilight for weeks, creating a sparkling view from the porch.

June and July are ruled by the fireflies. Even if brief, their luminous lives have purpose because we enjoy their delicate specks of light.

On August evenings, when vacations are over and school is looming, night bugs sing a cantata to make the end of summer bearable. Late afternoon, the drone of cicadas whines above other outside noises. The hotter the day, the louder the whine. Considering their size, their volume is fairly impressive.

Then crickets, dozens of crickets, with pulsing chirps, on different pitches in different tempos, sneak in to sing with the cicadas. Shortly after sunset, the cicadas know to go to bed to let the crickets take over. Crickets loudly sing on, even ignoring an evening rain to say their piece.

I stay awake late night to listen for the next movement of the insect symphony. The humming bugs add another sound layer for several seconds, fade, and return. Finally, bugs I recognize by sound, not sight, join in, too. I call them tick bugs, since their sound is more of a tick than a chirp. I should find out the scientific name of my other chorus bugs, but that seems, well, too scientific. These bugs are poetry.

I can listen to them for hours. Their sounds are soothing, meditative, and comforting in their predictability.

If we're lucky, in a small spot in heaven it will always be late August in Western Pennsylvania, and we'll be sitting on a porch illuminated by fireflies, serenaded by the night bugs.

MAGGIE STOCK

Butler

Of a summer evening, after the dishes were done, the apple trees were all climbed, and the fireflies were all caught, my brothers and cousins and I would gather with our parents and grandparents on the big front porch of our grandparents' home.

The boys would often sit on the brick railing or on the floor. The rest of us were on the glider or sitting on someone's lap. Our parents and grandparents gently rocked in assorted rockers. In spring, the peeper frogs down by the Loyalhanna crick, just below the house, joined our conversation.

We talked about anything and everything and nothing. Sometimes we sang, and sometimes the silence was the best of all.

And as the evening darkened, we watched the lights of the cars wending their way from New Alexandria to Latrobe, over the Latrobe Road. They were like flashlights turning off and on, or lighthouse beams, now here, now turned away, as the cars moved in and out of stands of trees.

The adults all knew the road and would make their best guesses as to where exactly the cars were, what curve they were taking. When it was finally completely dark and the younger ones were falling asleep, we kissed everyone goodbye and got into our cars and went home, relaxed and content, loved and loving.

BETH RACKLEY HESSELSON

Beaver

Looking for more from the Post-Gazette? Join PG+, our members-only web site. You'll get exclusive sports content, opinion, financial information, discounts from retailers and restaurants, and more. Our introduction to PG+ gives you all the details.