The longest day of the year

On the longest day of the year, after I bemoaned not having Geni to walk anymore, my husband persuaded me to take a short ride on the motorcycle to a nearby path, next to the river, so we could take a short walk in the nice afternoon.

The path was lovely, the weather perfect, and it gave both of us a feel for the glory and promise of summer, especially these long, warm, sunny days that bring with them this cherished privilege of leisure.

The tiny mushrooms growing on a fallen tree trunk looked like fairies poised to take flight, while a really old, gnarled and twisted tree, spoke of its indomitable will to live.

A miniature white butterfly stopped its flight momentarily to rest against the browns and greens of the forest.

And a large, red barn provided a nice contrast in the distance.

As our walk ended, the rows of corn, standing at attention like soldiers on a field, reminded us eloquently that we're in Ohio, as they looked eagerly toward the sunny skies on this, the zenith moment before the year (that only now seems to have started) begins its inevitable waning.