�ݬ� �� A Country Mile

June 17, 1996

�ݬ� �� By Jean Hughes

��Dawn breaks slowly in June. With the first glimmers of gray light, the birds start their rondelets. This morning, the

moisture from last night's rain clings to the refreshed land. Wafts of sweet perfume fill the air. A sunlit morning, after

a rain, restores the earth, and me.

��In the woods, the green is knee deep. The shaded, wild places, with little areas of sunshine slanting through, are alive

with multitudes of tiny creeping, crawling, flying creatures. Their abundance amazes me. I walk until I am chased out

by stinging nettles. They have no mercy!

��In the woods nearby, the Deptford pinks are in bloom. These flowers got their name from Deptford, England, where

they once grew in abundance. But there are no more pinks in Deptford. It is now a part of industrial London. As the wild

places go, so go the wildflowers. "Stay with us, little pinks."

��Last night, the fireflies lit up as bright as light bulbs. I hope to see a firefly tree this year. I have seen summer nights

when there were huge treefuls of fireflies. A night walk on such an occasion seems to connect me to heaven for it is hard

to tell where the fireflies stop and the stars begin.

It is time for baby bird summer school. Many of the youngsters have graduated from their nests. Some are bigger than

their parents. They are roly-poly with baby fat.

��They are easy to spot because of their inexperienced ways, their constant fussy peeping and the fluttering of their wings

to encourage their parents to feed them. They know how to fly, naturally, but it is landing that they have to learn about.

It is learning to land that is tough.

��I have had baby downy, hairy and red bellied woodpeckers, along with baby sparrows and titmice all in my dooryard

tree at the same time. I have also had a male and female pileated woodpecker who brought their baby to the suet feeder.

I love the baby days.

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��We have added a bird bath to our feeding area and we have already had bathers and those coming for a drink. Doves,

cardinals, blue jays, robins, goldfinches and nuthatches are our most constant guests, and the house finches come to the

window feeder above my sink windows every day.�� The chickadees and titmice come only occasionally now, but I have

no fear that they will return, in great numbers when the cold winds blow.

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��There are tremendous rewards that come from walking the same paths every day. I know where to go to hear the wood

thrush sing his melodious tune, where the pasture rose climbs up to make a pink-flowered web through the woods' edge

trees and where, in the evening, the catbird sings his concert. I know the haunts of wood pewees and box turtles, and

where the water sings over rocks and the skaters glide on sewing-thread legs. I know where I can stand knee-deep in

daisies and a meadowlark will come to the top of a sycamore and sing for me at any hour of the day. I get to see, up close,

the opening of many varieties of flowers. I know the kinship of life that comes from rain and shine, hot and cold, snow

and mud, wind and quiet. All these gifts come from taking a daily walk.

�ݬ� �� * * *

��The journey through life is short. I am lucky to live where the wild comes to my doorstep and people are generous with

the sharing of their woods with me. Birds, animals, flowers and clouds are my companions.��

��The world is a natural wonderland every season of the year, but in summer, when the roses bloom, it is at its most

expressive. From the 20th of June, when summer begins, until the 30th, the night of the full moon, the roses are most

beautiful at night, when the evening dew brings out their scent and the moonshine makes them glow. These are the best

nights of the year for moonlight walks. Don't miss them!

�� 1996 Jean Hughes��