Old Order Mennonite Memoirs

The first day of summer has already come and gone. It was a good day for little purple martins to hatch out of their eggs. Their tiny heads wobbled hungrily on their skinny, frail necks as they waited for a life-giving morsel from a diligent parent.

The week with the last days of spring and first days of summer was full of green, from grass under my feet to leaves on mountain trees. It is the color I was waiting for. I look at it dreamily and sigh with contentment and wonder.

The color green was in my friend's well-kept lawn along Hipple's Cave Road where we buddies shared a short time for a good country breakfast.

It's in the lettuce and kale I shared; fresh and crisp. It's in the field of alfalfa my husband cut for the second time; young and tender. Both were home-grown and unparalleled for taste.

The color green is in the little caps I take off strawberries, some for granddaughter Bella (age 20 months) so she can taste the freshness of a country day in summer. It's in the sugar peas I pick from way-high plants, once with my dad as he talked of old time memories and once with Bella who scarfed down the raw goodness as she tore them from the vines that were level with her searching brown eyes.

Green is in the tea leaves which I tore from stems while Bella played in the sand box nearby. It is in the hull peas which once they were picked, I settled down to shell them with my dad, my husband and my grandson Dana who is fast approaching his 12th birthday.

Green with purple is in the homemade card for granddaughter Lyla's 3rd birthday but it still waits here with the gift I bought for her at Traditions. I thought I was too busy to go away because the color green in weeds threatened to overwhelm me. In my flowerbeds I yanked and pulled and piled the unwanted color green into my cart. I was so happy when I was done, so I could apply mulch to save on future unwanted green. Mercifully appearing on Friday was a rain shower to refresh all my gardening efforts. I hung up my hose. It, too, is green. Having waged successfully in the war against weeds, I moved on to more green to clip short the grass in our lawns.

In the arch in the sky, green is the middle color among others. The bow in the south last week reminded us of God's promise to continue the seasons, never again to wash away His created world.

Green is in the bells of Ireland flowers my daughter gives to me from her garden. It's surrounding the flowers on my patio and edging the beds by the brick wall.

Green is in the fields as we travel beside them to Piney Creek church where we worship with others. "We" is my husband and me because our son went with his own buggy with his young wife at his side.

Another young man has similar things in mind. After services Randall Zimmerman, son of Vernon and Ruth Ann Zimmerman of Woodbury was published to be married to Anneliese Snyder. Lord willing, the wedding will be on July 16 at the Martinsburg home of the bride's parents, Marlin and Wilma Snyder. She is also a granddaughter to Ivan and Ella Zimmerman. Randall is a grandson of Harold and Mary Zimmerman and Paul and Anna Nolt.

More milestones for young souls are anticipated in the future. The names of two daughters and three sons were also announced for baptism in the name of Jesus this fall.