It was summer heaven on the mountain. We woke to the song of thrushes and rose to watch the fog moving and lifting through the valley. We lit a little summer fire, with doors and windows opened wide. The coffee began to perk, the children to stir. We plotted and planned summer adventures: a creek hike in search of salamanders, a picnic at the top of the mountain, carpeted with ferns, where the laurel was at its peak. And yes, I got a terrific case of poison ivy, picking black-eyed Susans for the grandmother's return. It was summer heaven on the mountain, a blessing of creation, abundant, full.

This is the song which Solomon sings, the goodness of creation, in the portion of the Song Of Solomon appointed for this morning. "For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone, the flowers ap…