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Show By CAROL LEMON "What is so rare as a day in June?" Isn't that the way it goes? If anything, that may be an understatement. understate-ment. June is so full of miracles, its hard to beat. We begin to feel that winter win-ter has been banished to the north country, yet the traces of white on the highest peaks reminds us that somewhere, still, the mornings are icy bright, and diamonds dance on ice -rimmed stream -banks. We are nearing the sum -mer solstice. Our days will soon become progressively progres-sively shorter, our nights will slowly lengthen. Even as summer begins, we must already lean toward Fall. Now and then Nature, too, must take a breather. She wearies of the struggle to survive - the rush to renew, re-new, rejuvenate, propogate. Living can be beautiful in June or any other time, if we try to make it so. There's more to life 1 and June - ' : . ..i : '- T : more to life and June -than Roses. The urgency of the harvest season, to store and care for the bounty produced, and prepare for what lies ahead lies heavy upon her. Yet other seasons bring harsh winds and the icy fists of Winter beating unceasingly against her door. The pleasant simple beauty of June provides a brief respite. We are called to endure no extremes in June -no severe cold, no searing heat. The welcome surge of green is past. Roses bloom alongthe fences. Iris raise their heads proudly. The air is heavy with the sweet scent of new life - a sweetness that no other time of year can equal. It is unique,' for it brings us joy in the mere fact of our being pleasure in re -discovering the beauty, we seem to forget so easily. In April we forget how tall the grass will grow along the fence row, and that the air will be heavy with the spicy scent of chokecherry and elderblossom. We forget the pastel carpet the range -lands will become, as the tiny wildflowers burst into bloom. We forget that June, indeed, is other things than roses. Re -discover them each year, we must. We re -learn the lilting song of the birds as they greet the new day, and the sweet scent of clover, of newly cut grass, of peonies, peo-nies, honeysuckle and morning mor-ning glory; the freshness of the first produce from the garden, and the tang of strawberries that tease and delight the palate, all must be re-discovered. I June is dandelions, as well as roses; memories brought I out of hiding emotions perhaps thought to be buried ' and lost, rekindled and en- , joyed. |