NEWS FROM THE HILLS

Summer has exploded in our hills like a Fourth of July firecracker, with searing heat and high humidity. The widespread daisies are giving way to Queen Anne’s lace, bright blue chicory and showy orange butterfly weed. It already looks like midsummer, with the leaves on the trees hanging full and lush.

Late evening brings out the lightning bugs and grandchildren, which has always been a popular combination. The little insects, with their taillights burning brightly, rise up from the grass and are chased by eager children. We always used a glass jar with a hole punched in the lid to make a “flashlight,” but six year old Hunter sports a fancy bug catcher with a built-in magnifying glass.

He is fascinated by the two lightning bugs he has caught, and asks me curiously, “Mommaw, what do lightning bugs eat?” To tell the truth, I’d never thought about it, and had to tell him honestly, “I don’t know, Hunter.” A bit impatiently, he demanded, “Well, look it up!”

Sometimes a child’s curiosity will rub off on an adult, so I went online and searched. Sure enough, he was right—the information was there. Lightning bug larvae seem to be the most voracious. They live on the ground, under bark, and in moist swampy places. They eat earthworms, snails and slugs, among other things. They are equipped with mandibles and can inject a paralyzing fluid in their victim.

Adult lightning bugs can live for several months, and dine on pollen, plant nectar, parts of flowers, and other species of lightning bugs. (And they look like such innocent little critters, don‘t they?) Sometimes females that have already mated will turn their lights on to attract an amorous male of another specie and devour him.

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See what you can learn from a child’s inquisitive mind—things you really didn’t think you wanted to know. There was another section on how to raise lightning bugs, but I didn’t tell Hunter. One of the first things on the menu to feed them was chopped earthworms. I didn’t think I wanted to get into that.

Summertime was made for exploring and adventures. There are so many animals that can be petted, from lightning bugs to orphaned baby rabbits. We always seemed to have an animal in need, and once raised a baby robin to adulthood. She lingered all summer, waiting for someone to dig her earthworms (usually me.)

We’ve had hamsters, and pet rabbits, cockatiels, and a parrot—but I don’t think there is anything as satisfying as a cat or a dog. We have both, but I am partial to dogs. Our cat Chester is an “in and out” cat, so fat his belly almost drags the ground. He is lovable, with a Hitler-type mustache, and we’ve had him since he was six weeks old—he is now five. Like most cats, he is independent. It has to be his idea to be petted, and he lets you know by putting his head on your knee.

On the other hand, our Jack Russell terrier, Minnie, is plastered to my side. She is the most un-hyper dog I’ve ever seen. If she were any more laid back, she’d be unconscious. She sleeps with Criss and me, curled up at the foot of our bed unless it comes a thunderstorm. Then she can’t get close enough to us.

A dog is such a loyal friend; they are like grandchildren—they think you are perfect. I could never mistreat a dog—or any animal—any more than I could one of my grandchildren. They are God’s creation and deserve to be treated as such.

We received a poem sent in by Katherine Akers of Charles Town some time back, and although it may be a bit fanciful, it describes a dog’s devotion perfectly. (I’m sure you’ve heard the controversy about dogs going to heaven!)

WAITING AT THE FERRY

By David Lee Wharton

On the banks of that lonely river

Where the Stygian waters roll,

All patiently through the weary years

Waiteth a little dog soul.

O, long are the years and weary

Since the little dog stepped ashore,

But halted, humbly there to wait

By the stream he will cross no more.

To the water’s edge he hurries

When Charon’s baroque draws near,

For “when HE comes,” the little dog thinks,

“He must find me watching here.”

With faith undimmed, heart unafraid,

He waits on that lonely strand

For the smile of an unforgotten face,

For the touch of his master’s hand.

While the far-away master never dreams

That where Stygian waters brim,

Unheeding the pearly gates flung wide,

His little dog waits for him.

She also included a prayer by Albert Schweitzer, and added the comment, “I suppose most of us would not think that he would be devoted to a dog.”

A PRAYER FOR ANIMALS

Hear our humble prayer, O God, for our friends the animals.

Especially for animals who are suffering; for any that are lost or deserted or frightened or hungry; for all that must be put to death.

We entreat for them all thy mercy and pity.

And for those who deal with them, we ask for a heart of compassion, gentle and kindly words.

Make us true friends of the animals and so to share the blessings of the merciful.

It’s summertime, and good things are appearing in the woods and fields. The wild black raspberries are ripe and ready for the picking. We have had two raspberry pies, and made a batch of black raspberry jam. The boys report that blackberries seem to be abundant, but are not ripe yet.

Elderberries are in full bloom, and wineberries will be ripening soon. I haven’t had too much luck in making jam from them, as it doesn’t seem to jell. It makes wonderful ice cream topping though. Our friend Rod likes to freeze a handful of them in a sandwich bag, and then dumps them on his cereal bowl of hot oatmeal. Sounds good to me.

The Lord has provided so many good wild foods for us that it seems a shame not to take advantage of them. The common orange daylily can be used in many different ways. I relish the unopened flower buds sautéed in oil with garlic and chopped onions, and a dash of soy sauce. (I must warn you though, that these buds have a laxative effect on some people. I found out the hard way.)

Happy Summering