Sap Bucket Beetle

I didn't want to post a lot of natural history information with my 365 Urban Species "reminders," because it's there in the original post, but I guess a quick note wouldn't hurt:

Sap bucket beetles ARE fireflies, but they have lost the trait of bioluminescence through evolution, and mate in the daytime. This change in behavior has turned out to be an advantage over their lit-up cousins. Fireflies are rapidly disappearing from urban areas because light pollution makes it impossible for them to court and reproduce; if you find a firefly in the city, chances are good that it's actually a sap bucket beetle. Check the abdomen to be sure--a true firefly will have a light colored segment where the bioluminescence occurs. Often sap bucket beetles are called "diurnal fireflies," a common name which verges on being an oxymoron.

Eveline Mary Binmore Taylor has finally left us

My mother has been leaving us for a long time. Fifteen years ago she became too sick to live at home, and she had been slowly moving further from us until this moment, and now she is at peace.

I want to thank my mother for the many gifts she gave me while she was with us. Not only for life, her first and greatest gift to me, but for the spirit and strength and love she put into every gift she gave following that. Her attitude toward raising my brother and I was to treat us like people; as people that she adored and protected, but also as people she liked, and respected. We were all passengers on a trip through life together, learning and experiencing, and sharing adventures.

My mom gave us the gift of true sight: to see the world as it is, and to judge it using evidence. Sometimes we don't know what the explanation for certain things is, but she made me understand that there are explanations if we look for them. That nature's mysteries are there to be studied and contemplated. That plants and birds and insects all have names and roles in the universe, and that studying them is worthwhile and fulfilling. The deep awe for nature that she felt is part of who I am, and I can see it living in myself, and in my brother, and in my brother's children.

She gave us the gift of not taking things too seriously. My friends and cousins all remember the home of my childhood as being full of laughter. My mother laughed at our jokes, and at the funny situations we created. She was full of joy and whimsy; it was so much a part of her that as other parts of her were claimed by sickness, she still laughed. We don't know what she found funny, but I bet it was good.

And she didn't hide from us the fact that the world isn't always positive; that others don't always have the best intentions; We had a placard on our wall that read in Latin, Nill illigitimi carborundum: "Don't let the Bastards Get you Down." That's a motto to live by.

Perhaps most importantly, she gave us the gift of love. Our home was above all a place with people who loved each other. She gave me the courage to open my heart to love. The most honest thing you can do in this world is to truly, fearlessly love the people in your life who are worthy of your love. And if you can extend your love past that, all the better.

Thanks mom, for all of this. I hope I said it enough while you were able to hear it. I miss you very much, but I am very grateful you are at peace.