On this third day of summer fireflies flickered before dawn and again at dusk as distant bolts of lightning slashed  a gray-black sky, black raspberries stained my tounge and lips, day lilies splashed rural roadsides in blazes of orange, bluebirds hunted bugs at the edge of the meadow, confident cocky goslings marched ahead of the gander, deep booming bullfrogs sounded early, thunderheads exploded with downbursts of wind, tree leaves  flipped to their silver sides, red-winged blackbirds flashed their colors in the cattail marsh, bass ignored my jitterbug lure antics, deer flies chased joggers on woodland trails, turkey vultures scavenged a  pancaked possum, hummingbirds hovered at the suction cup window feeder, painted turtles sunned on a nearly sunken pond log, robins splashed in the birdbath, cows at Ortonville's Cooks Farm Dairy waited with pleading looks for toddlers so they could steal licks from poorly guarded ice cream cones and tectonic plates in our restless Earth shifted near Ottawa, Ontario sending a 5.5 earthquake rumbling through Oakland County. And that is the way of nature, full of the predictable - and full of surprise over which we have no control.