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The clipping this text was read from
The clipping this text was read from

it is not wholly because they follow the hot and soggy days of August! Such contrast helps; but they would be magnificent at any -time.——=-^—

They are days when the sky is clean and clear, when the air is crisp without being chill, when the wind is free of heat and dust and not yet full of leaves. Late cicadas sing, crickets fiddle in the high grass, and at evening the katydids set up their clatter. Crows caw with less raucous voice than usual. Bees hum over nodding fields of goldenrod.

In a properly ordered world, vacations would wait for such days and we would all go out onto the hills and know that life can be good. Enough, perhaps, that in a troubled world we can take time enough to see and feel and sense the fundamental strength and continuing hospitality of the natural world around us. This is our environment, and ours is a way of life that cherishes it. It somehow sums up the things for which we stand. And on a clean, clear September day we can all see the bold horizons of our belief, the hills of our faith and the granite substance of our enduring purpose.

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