Both Katy and Will had multiple home runs, in our fancy new Whitewater ball-field (in spite of the fact that we didn't bring either ball or bat). They also climbed, slid, and rode bikes all over the park. And, as we were about to leave, a few light showers moved in...

...creating rainbows. Holding umbrellas, the kids helped me plant two new apple whips, a Macintosh and a Gala. Four or five autumns from now we should be tasting fruit.

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THE CAVE

Sometimes when the boy was troubled he would go
         To a little cave of stone above the brook
And build a fire just big enough to glow
         Upon the ledge outside, then sit and look.
Below him was the winding silver trail
         Of water from the upland pasture springs,
And meadows where he heard the calling quail;
         Before him was the sky, and passing wings.

The tang of willow twigs he lighted there,
Fragrance of meadows breathing slow and deep,
The cave's own musky coolness on the air,
The scent of sunlight... all were his to keep.
We had such places — cave or tree or hill...
And we are lucky if we keep them still.

—Glenn W. Dresbach