“Summer Nights” from Grease loops in my head as I mash a banana and crack open a beer—not to sip, not yet, but to bait moths.  According to online sources, moths are drawn to a fermented mix of banana, sugar, and beer. 

“Summer lovin’ had me a blast…” Olivia Newton-John’s voice plays in my mind as I pour the concoction into a shallow dish, then mix another batch to smear on a nearby tree trunk. Summer days are driftin’ away, just like the song says, and I’m determined to capture these magical nights before they vanish.

Outside, dusk settles like a soft blanket. The last streaks of pink, coral, and gold fade from the sky. I inhale the smoky, savory scent of our neighbor’s backyard grill. Mmm. The cool grass tickles my bare feet as I spread a white sheet on the lawn near the deck. I place the bait dish in the center, angle a flashlight toward the sheet, and smear the sugary paste onto the rough bark of an oak tree. Will the moths prefer the dish or the tree? What species will show up tonight?

I imagine the moths I might attract: a Polyphemus Moth—big and brown with dazzling blue and yellow eyespots on its wings. Or a Sphinx Moth, which hovers like a hummingbird over flowers. Maybe I’ll spot a Yellow Underwing, its drab appearance suddenly flashing with sunshine-yellow hind wings. Or, if I’m lucky, a Cecropia—the largest moth in North America.

As a teen, I once raised Cecropia moths. The caterpillars hatched and devoured everything green. I didn’t mind. It felt miraculous.

I’m filled with hope. Maybe I’ll spot the most enchanting moth of them all: the lime-green luna moth, with its delicate tails and pale, moonlit eyespots—wings like something dreamed, not real. To see one would be like finding a piece of summer magic drifting through the dark.

I sip the rest of the beer and let Olivia's voice drift through my mind again: “Summer days, driftin’ away…”

Time passes.

I wait.

And wait.

No moths come.

I lean back and rest my head. Glimmering stars pepper the night sky. A frog, sitting at the edge of the water garden, croaks once, twice, then falls silent. A pack of coyotes begins howling, summoning the night’s adventure and sending shivers down my spine. A lightning bug flies across the sheet.

The white sheet, however, lies undisturbed.

At first, I feel a flicker of disappointment. I came seeking something rare, something otherworldly. But sitting there, wrapped in stillness, I realize—I’ve already found it.

In the end, what I captured wasn’t a moth. 
It was something rarer. 
A moment.

A summer night. 
Unhurried. 
Unplugged. 
And one that holds the promise of even more thrills. 

Oh, those summer nights.