Sitting quietly on the old wooden covered porch in front of the house, as dusk set in and I could hear my Grandma and an aunt or two and maybe an uncle rocking, rocking gently back and forth. I can remember holding a quart jar of lightening bugs with cheesecloth on top, and watching them flicker on and off. The quite voices with long pauses and the bushes full of lightening bugs going on and off, each bush in its different pattern, still lingers in my mind. That was a quiet time after all the work was done on the farm and family could come and visit. Talk was cheap but family was precious and togetherness was priceless.