June 14, 2005

A June Kind of Day

How sweet to come home on an ordinary Tuesday night, still whipped from yesterday's 3.5 mile run and from vacation’s excesses, and to linger in the lingering sun, an equinoxical treat where even the seven o'clock sun is for real, here to lay and let the body cells remember Hilton Head Island almost as if I were there again.

I soak in the preternatural beauty of the maples. They stand on pedestals as the age, their roots so voluminous that they inadvertently create a platform. How cool is that? "Only God could make a tree" and truer words were never spoke. It’s hard to think of anything natural more strikingly beautiful. The interplay of striving branch and green accompaniment is like a symphony. It reminds me of the old oaks and beech at Miami University, where the trees shade scholars as they move inexorably to graduation.

Saw yesterday the first lightning bug, the nightly lanterns that signal the true beginning of summer. They alight as they will, or light as the Spirit wills, and it's poignant to see them again as if they were old friends revisiting from long ago. I marvel at how orderly their arrival; every year within a few days, always this, a week or two into sweet June.

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