The steam rose from my second cup of coffee as I sat at the table composing the day’s “to do” list. The day was far too new for the sun to have risen. Nevertheless, the skies were bright with the anger of the approaching storm and the house echoed with the resounding claps of thunder. The door from my youngest daughter’s room swung open and out strode my sleepy eyed princess into the kitchen. Fourteen going on 30, still a child but not. The thunder, her nemesis from childhood, had rocked her from a sound sleep for the first time in a long while. I gave her a big hug, a soft blanket and her ferret to cuddle with, and she was once again off to sleep; this time on the couch knowing I was in close proximity.

Many hours passed. The clock showed past ten before she stirred again. The lightening had subsided but a heavy rain continued to fall. She wiped the sleep from her eyes, then gave me a big smile. This was not her typical ‘good morning Daddy’ smile, but the elfish one she saved for occasions when mischief abounds.

She mentioned her needed to shower, then walked to the screen door, only to smile yet again before bounding out onto the deck in the pouring rain. “C’mon…it’s a perfect day to dance!” she yelled over the sound of the downpour. Right she was. I joined her on the deck and we danced about until we were soaked to the bone. What a great way to start the day.

This is tradition for us…to dance away the rain. As a small child, my daughter feared thunder, often taking refuge in my arms until the storm had passed. What started as an attempt to ease my daughter’s fear has turned into a reminder that one can find a smile on even on the rainiest of days. After the lightening had moved off during one such storm, I headed out into the rain with bar of soap in hand. My daughters thought I had lost my mind…Dad, outside in the rain, taking a shower with his clothes on. They eventually joined in, giggling and splashing about as they played in the downpour. The fear of storms was washed away, at least for the moment. The droplets splashed off of their white nightgowns, creating a shimmering vision of two angels as they danced together hand in hand. We christened our homestead “Dancing Angels Farm” as a perpetual reminder of that day.

The sun eventually broke through the clouds late in the afternoon. With ladder and bags in hand, we headed for the orchard to pick sweet cherries. Last year’s pruning of the aging orchard paid off as the trees strained under the load of fruit. We soon found out that the cherries, so ripe with juice, would burst with all but the gentlest touch. A messy job, but someone had to do it. An hour and 20 lbs of fruit later we called it quits. Our hands, now stained from the crimson juice, were nothing in contrast to the smudges around our mouths from eating as much as we picked.

Back to the house to process our bounty and remove what we could of the stains. By then, the sun had moved below the horizon. I stepped outside, this time to empty the bowl of seeds and stems. I stopped short of my task, returning quickly to the house to get my daughter…the fireflies were out.

After a quick dousing of bug juice, we made our way through the pitch black night with our favorite firefly jar in hand. The glow bugs were out in force. In all my years, I’ve never seen so many at once. A thousand miniature stars pulsating above the field grass...the heavens had descended from the clouds. Not even the finest display of Christmas lights could hold a candle to their beauty. A moment passed, perhaps several, before we darted off in hot pursuit of the elusive glows; our shouts drowning out the concert of the bullfrogs over by the creek. Soon, the milk white glass jar was aglow with the soft, luminous radiance of the tiny insects.

Exhausted from the chase, we stopped by the edge of the field to once more admire the wondrous sight. My daughter loosened the lid, releasing the flies back to whence they came, hopefully no worse for wear. She thanked them for the show and urged them to go be with their friends. We held hands as we walked back to the house, both rambling on excitedly about the events of the day.

The day was over…physically anyway. My daughter experienced first hand that despite the change in my appearance that little else has changed. Life comes from what’s in your heart, not from what you have or don’t have. Perhaps, someday, my daughter will tell her own children of the days spent dancing in the rain and chasing fireflies. Better yet, perhaps she will show them how…