Soon the party
would begin to straggle and divide, some to gather wild flowers and
berries, and more to find materials for wreaths, or ferns and mosses
for decorations.
The walks ended where walks do that have no definite plan--anywhere in
the woods, sitting on the boulders or the pine leaves, or in some shady
nook where a topic would be found for discussion, or a pleasant book
would be read. When the supper horn sounded, you found the absent ones
together again, with bright, rosy faces and good appetites; and only a
few of the younger folks would be late, who had strayed farther or
walked slower, to enjoy the companionship of those of the same age; to
listen to their sweet voices, and to linger, as only young folks love
to linger.
The summer came on with joy and beauty. I recall the long waves of
nodding grass, that swayed in the June wind and were chasing each
other, fugue-like on the broad meadows. How beautiful it was, tipped
with its various hues of green, yellow, red and purple, bending and
rising as each breath of wind passed over it! The crops looked well,
and the table was supplied with varieties of garden produce.
If you approached the farm in the middle of the forenoon, you wondered
where all the people were, but at the sound of the first horn, half an
hour before dinner, "from bush and briar and greensward shade" they
would begin to start out like Robin Hood's men, and when the second
horn was sounding, the daily, the tri-daily procession was fairly on
the move, approaching the Hive from all sides.
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