6. Glow-worm

The Glow-worm is one of the small miracles of the night — a beetle that makes its own light. It’s the females that glow, sitting low in the grass and shining to attract the flying males. The light comes from a chemical reaction called bioluminescence, produced in a special organ at the tip of the abdomen. It’s cool to the touch, steady, and unmistakably alive — a greenish gleam that seems to float just above the ground.

Glow-worms appear from late May through July, most often on warm, still nights. They live quietly as larvae for up to three years, feeding on snails and slugs under cover of darkness. When they’re fully grown, they pupate in the soil and emerge as adults for a brief few weeks, long enough to mate and continue the cycle. The adults don’t eat at all — their only task is to find each other in the dark.

Their light can be surprisingly bright, visible from several metres away. It’s said that Victorian children would collect them in jars to use as natural lanterns, though most lights were soon extinguished by curiosity. The glow itself is a perfect match for the night: bright enough to be seen, but gentle enough not to break its spell.

For me, glow-worms show what darkness is for — not emptiness, but connection. Without the dark, their light would be invisible; their whole story depends on it. When the nights are warm and the grass still, that tiny green lamp flickering in the verge is the countryside whispering back to the stars.