“Why do we love to gaze on the blue canopy of the summer sky, the many-colored flowers of the spring, the beautiful faces of innocent children? Why do we love to listen to the symphony of the orchestra, the music of the mountain wind playing with the pine trees, the mighty voice of lonely waterfalls?
“When we were kids on the farm, long before the days of rural electrification, we owned a battery-powered Philco radio.
“The U.S. Congress, which never ceases to be amazing, recently voted to give the Pentagon $11 billion more than it had asked for.
Our county fair, among the very last in the state to open each year, is under way.
The timing of this fair delights many, as they can select their very best produce to enter for 4-H and open class judging, and cattle and hogs are given just a little extra time to reach as close to perfection as possible.
“I have finally figured out what is wrong with everything. There is too much of it. I mean by that that there is too much of every single thing that one could possibly want or need except time, money, good plumbers, and people who say thank you when you hold open a door for them.
The swirling hurricane season keeps pounding away, and everyone I’ve talked to in recent days is concerned about friends and family living in the southeast.
“Some days, we would simply walk the fields and stroll the woods just for enjoyment. It seemed we didn’t really need a good reason, but sometimes we would offer to check the north fence or insist upon checking to see if the latest storm knocked any trees about in the back woods.
“For those who did not drive one, automobiles were an unmitigated nuisance and often provided even dangerous situations.
“Dog trainers have a saying that in order to train a dog one must know more than the dog. In order to drive a horse in dangerous situations, one must know more than the horse.
Columnist Judith Sutherland questions what is really progress.