Dragonflies

I have always loved looking at dragonflies. When I was a child, my older sister and I would make the short walk to a creek that ran near our house and sit on the steeply sloped banks. She would remove her shoes and put her feet in the water. I, being the panicky germ-o-phobe, would leave my shoes on, but would sit next to her on the grass.

The water wasn't very deep, and we could see the bottom of the creek, the rounded stones, the strange little lobster-like creatures that I later found out were called crawdads. I remember there being a thick tall grass that grew in the water and along the banks. I am certain they weren't cattails, but they were very similar. We had to be wary of the tall stalks; the edges of the leaves tended to be rather sharp and would slice through the skin of our hands if we weren't careful.

In my mind's eye, I can still see the colorful dragonflies flitting in and out of the tall grass , buzzing and darting about, rarely settling anywhere for long, but providing flashes of color and excitement to the creek that was otherwise various shades of green. At times, they would even seem to land on the surface of the water, though I suppose they were simply hovering.

The creek no longer runs past my parents' home. The city has since dug it up and paved it over with concrete. Instead of a living ecosystem, the small creek has been converted into a drainage area for rainwater. For a while after the improvements were completed, the dragonflies would still hang around the area, sometimes coming into my parents' yard looking for water. But I haven't seen one now for years.