Blind Melon - No Rain Page

Her name was Heather, but the kids at school just called her "The Bug." She lived in a world of scratchy yellow felt and heavy black stripes. While other teenagers were discovering grunge clubs and garage bands, Heather was practicing a tap-dance routine that no one had asked to see. She carried a small wooden stage with her, a tiny island of performance in a sea of indifference.

The sky over the valley was a stubborn, unyielding blue. For the people of the town, it was a blessing; for the girl in the oversized bee costume, it was a cage. Blind Melon - No Rain

There, dancing in a circle around a massive oak tree, were dozens of them. There were bumblebees like her, but also dragonflies with iridescent capes, grasshoppers in green spandex, and butterflies with cardboard wings. They weren't professional dancers; they were awkward, joyful, and beautifully strange. Her name was Heather, but the kids at

Heather didn't hesitate. She didn't wait for an invitation. She scrambled down the hill, her wooden stage forgotten, and threw herself into the middle of the swarm. The sky over the valley was a stubborn, unyielding blue