Old Order Mennonite Memoirs

Chloe Pup ran circles around me in her excitement about going for a walk, but at the gate beside the meadow fence she sat down to wait. Too many zaps from the electric fence taught her to fear an unseen enemy in that area. Even though the grass along the fence was mowed evenly, she was taking no chances. When I came back, she leaped and bounded out the field lane ahead of me.

At the first house she sniffed at the dead bluebird babies I tossed out and waited till I marked into my booklet, the casualty of our cool, wet weather earlier in the week. As we crested the hill, wild turkeys in the open fields ran for cover in the woods but the humped-back porcupine was too busy nosing his way across the field to notice us. It wasn’t until we were much closer that he ran for cover. Chloe ran pell-mell after the rodent but when it disappeared, she changed her mind and came back to my side.

Even at the close of day, the woods rang with the music of bird song. The indigo bunting and cardinal I recognized, but there were other woodland birds hiding from my uneducated eyes.

The two next houses I checked were empty so we walked back past purple phlox and creamy honeysuckle blossoms to go cross-country over corn and alfalfa seedlings to check on the only bluebird fledglings on my trail, that are alive and well. In the last house I had to peer deep into twigs to find two tiny brown wren eggs.

We were nearing home and Chloe was really panting in the humid, warm evening. Tree frogs and spring peepers were waking from a daytime sleep to sing about marshy nights, warm and calm. I plucked a spray of weigela blossoms from a pink mound and turned toward the setting sun.

Arriving home on the patio among flowers and ferns, Chloe needed a drink before she flopped belly-down, on the cool bricks. But I know she liked the walk.

It was like planting tomatoes and peppers in the rising heat of Saturday afternoon. Unaccustomed to the heat, my face flushed and now my muscles are sore, but I still liked to garden. Besides my own gardens, one day was spent helping along Lafayette Road. I enjoyed helping the boys plant some pepper plants of their own. Besides gardens, we shared bubbles in the sun and a delicious meal. The unusual bird song I was hearing, my daughter identified later as the red-eyed vireo.

With all my outdoor time, I didn’t hear the phone call from my sister on Saturday afternoon. She was wanting to tell me the happy news of their first grandchild. Kadrian Isaac was born to Paul Ivan and Brenda Nolt’s oldest son Caleb and his wife Loretta. This little tyke makes Paul and Anna Nolt first time great-grandparents. He is also a grandson for Harry and Edna Snyder. For my dad, Erwin Zimmerman, he is the 32nd great-grandchild.

The moon, in all its full glory, shone upon a calm world on Saturday night when the youth singing was along Hickory Bottom. The next morning when we went to Piney Creek church, we needed no jackets or sweaters. Lunch for five of us was enjoyed on the patio. For this first picnic of the season, the old maple tree shielded us from the hot sun. When supper was served for the youth along Potter Creek, it was another calm night, with the smell of rye, cut in the field, making it seem even more like it was simply summer.