She tucked one foot under her as she sat down on the porch swing. She’d always loved porch swings. There was something quaint about them. And now she finally had one.

She curled her hands around her cup of tea, rocking herself with the tip of her canvas shoe. The cicadas were everywhere. She couldn’t even hear the radio inside the house, though it was just in the parlor, just inside the front door.

A month ago she’d been enjoying lightning bugs. Tonight the cicadas. Before long, she’d be curling up in front of her fireplace while it snowed outside.