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 g...