And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days; Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune, And over it softly her warm ear lays.

-- Lowell

Merrily swinging on brier and weed, Near to the nest of his little dame Over the mountain-side or mead, Robert of Lincoln is telling his name: Bob-o'-link, Bob-o'-link, spink, spank, spink. Snug and safe is that nest of ours, Hidden among the summer flowers -- Chee, chee, chee! Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife, Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings, Passing at home a patient life, Broods in the grass while her husband sings: Bob-o'-link, Bob-o'-link, spink, spank, spink.

	Wood Mouse (David Boag)
	Horned Lark Eremophila alpestris (David Leatherman)
	Western Meadowlark (Don Baccus)

White-Throated Sparrow Zonotrichia albicollis (John Slivoski)

Bob-O-Link (Artist)

	Yellow Violet (Professor David Fankhauser )
	Indian Paint Brush Castilleja affiniis (Beatrice Howitt)
	Bob White Dolichonyx oryzivorus (Artist)

June 15 -- We children love to go the meadow where the Buttercups grow -- why, it looks just like the sun's children had come to live in that meadow this month. It is a golden meadow now. Don't you just like to cuddle down among Buttercups? We do. Did you know that Buttercup has other names? -- Cuckoo flower, Crowfoot, Kindcup, Butter Flower and Goldcup. Scientists call her Ranunculus. Have you held a reception for Buttercup fairies and invited their cousins, Meadow Rue, Marsh Marigold, Larkspur, Columbine, Virgin's Bower and Wind Flower?
June 17th -- In the field today I saw a father Horned Lark with baby Larks three busily hunting insects. Then even while I watched them he rose into the air singing that tinkling song that sends joy everywhere. He is a cousin of the skylark.

Oh, listen! The wild flowers are singing Their beautiful songs without words! They are pouring the soul of their music Through the voices of happy birds.

-- Lucy Larcum

June 20th -- I've a Grass Garden out in the field, in the corner of Grandfather's field. Today I've been out talking to the Grass fairy children. (Have you a Grass Garden?) It brings one so many joys -- more joys than toys -- because Wind fairies make sweet music among the Grass fairies and little fairy voices whisper back and forth; and one has a wonderful song in one's heart as one walks among the Grass fairies in one's own Grass Garden. Among the Fairy Grasses who dwell in my garden in the field are: Velvet Grass, Silvery Hairgrass, Tall Red-top, Floating Mannagrass, Kentucky Blue grass, Reed Canarygrass, Foxtail Grass, Purplish Aristida, Squirrel-tail Grass, Nodding Wild Rye, Lacegrass, Timothy and Raygrass. These are their common names. Other names had they, too, of my own choosing.

Even as the growing grass, Up from the soil religions pass, And the field that bears the rye Bears parables and prophesy.

-- Wheelock

June 21st -- O, the Timothy Grass in the fields is in bloom; and we children like them all. We sent our greetings to them by the wind this morning, and then we raced to the fields to tell them ourselves. We told them how they came by their name -- Timothy -- you see it was for Timothy Hanson, who cultivated them many years ago, that they were named. The children call them Cat's-tail Grass. Their scientific name is Phleum pratense.
The field Musicians -- often we go quietly and listen to them -- and listening feel the bond of brotherhood with the little Earthfolk about us. And who are the musicians of the field -- Meadowlark, Bob-o'-link, Bob White, Katy-did, Vesper Sparrow and Cricket are among them.
We were just bubbling over with joy this morning -- and we couldn't keep still. And when we went to the fields we heard him -- "Bob White, Bob White." he always tells his name so plainly -- this cousin of Partridge, Grouse and Quail. We learned this verse about him:

There's a plump little chap in a speckled coat, And he sits on the zigzag rail remote, Where he whistles at breezy, bracing morn, Where the buckwheat is ripe, and stacked with corn; "Bob White! Bob White! Bob White!"

June 15th -- O, tongues of flame are speaking here and yonder where blooms the Indian Paint Brush, the Scarlet Painted Cup, cousin of Mullein, Monkey Flower and Fox Glove. And to it comes the Hummingbird. (We saw four about them today.) And, too, we found feeding on the plant, caterpillars, who some day will be Checker-spot Butterflies. Castilleja is its scientific name.

Earth's crammed with heaven And every common bush afire with God.

June 17th -- I have just returned from taking the caterpillars to grass. Grandfather's eyes twinkled when he met me in the field taking caterpillars to grass, and he said in his kindly way, "I met you this morning taking the cows to pasture, now it is the butterflies. Whose turn comes next?"
"The plump ones who are to be Indian Skipper Butterflies when they grow up, and the reason I didn't bring all the caterpillars at once -- all those feed on grass -- was because the herding of caterpillars is more difficult than the herding of cows. After the caterpillars browse awhile I bring them home with more grass like that upon which they were feeding in the field. Now I must take the caterpillars of Indian Skipper to pasture."
June 21st -- Out in the meadow where the land is damp and where hundreds of Camases are blooming -- that is where we have been today. And a wonderful time we have had with Camas fairies who wear the Joyous Blue. Grandfather, finding us among the Camases, told us how their bulbs were prized by the Indians and that a war -- "the Nez Perce Indian War" in Idaho was caused by encroachments upon the territory rich in these bulbs -- also he said that Bears like the bulbs. These Camas fairies are cousins of Mission Bells and many Lilies.
June 29th -- In the nest of Nakomis, the little field mouse, I found two Assassin Bugs.

Grasshopper (Mark Cassino)

July 17th -- Over the meadow they flit. Over the clover they hover -- these Sulphur Butterfly fairies. Upon the leaf of the Clover an egg I found -- and upon another leaf another egg. We have raised from sixty to ninety each year. And delightful times we have had in Butterfly Nursery watching the caterpillars hatch -- and then feed upon Clover leaves, and then rest on the midribs of the underside of the leaves. We children all think the green caterpillars that are to be Sulphur Butterflies when they grow up, very interesting youngsters. Have you looked for the eggs of Sulphur Butterfly on Clover leaves?

Cloudless Sulphur (Doctor William Hark)

Wayside songs and meadows blossoms; nothing perfect, nothing rare; Every poet's ordered garden yields a hundred flowers more fair; Master-singers know a music richer far beyond compare. Yet the reaper in the harvest, 'mid the burden and the heat, 'Hums a half-remembered ballad, finds the easy cadence sweet, Sees the very blue of heaven in the corn-bloom at his feet.

-- Van Dyke

From the west to east the warm breath blows, The slender heads of wheat droop low, as if in prayer. Again, the more lightly tossed in merry play, They bend and bow and sway with measured heat, But never rest, through shadow and through sun, Goes on the tender rustle of the wheat.

August 13th -- 'Most every day now we children are in the wheat fields and we listen and listen to the music there.

And still with reverent hands we cull Thy gifts each year renewed; The good is always beautiful, The beautiful is good.

-- Whittier

Insect lover of the sun, joy of thy dominion! Sailor of the atmosphere; swimmer through the waves of air; Voyager of light and noon; epicurean of June.

-- Emerson

Burly, dozing bumble-bee, where thou art is clime for me. I will follow thee alone, thou animated torrid-zone! Zigzag steerer, desert cheerer, let me choose thy waving lines; Keep me nearer, me thy hearer, singing over shrubs and vines.

-- Emerson

Have you heard of the Sing-away Bird, That sings where the Runaway River Runs down with its rills from the bald-headed hills That stand in the sunshine and shiver? Oh, sing! Sing away! Sing away! How the pines and the birches are stirred By the trill of the Sing-away Bird! 'Twas a White-throated Sparrow that sped a light arrow Of song from his musical quiver. And it pierced with its spell every valley and dell On the banks of the Runaway River -- Oh, sing! Sing-away! Sing-away! The song of the wild singer had The sound of a soul that is glad.

-- Lucy Larcum

Welcome with thy clicking, cricket, Clicking songs of sober mirth; Autumn striping field and thicket, Brings thee to my hearth, Where thy clicking shrills and quickens, While the mist of twilight thickens. No annoy, good humored cricket, With thy trills is ever blent Spleen of mine, how does though trick it To calm content So by thicket, hearth or wicket Click they little lifetime, cricket.

-- Bayard Taylor

May 3rd -- On our way home from school this afternoon we stopped in the fields to sip the nectar from the flower heads of Blue Curls. My, it tasted good. No wonder the Bees liked to call upon Blue Curls. After we had watched the Bees for several minutes we stopped taking the nectar, because we felt it belonged more to them than to us. You see they help Mother Nature send more seed babies (that are to be Blue Curls when they grow up) into the world by aiding in the fertilizing of the flower. Blue Curls are known by other names -- Heart-of-the-Earth, Self-heal and Prunella. They belong to the Mint family.
I was late to school this morning; but I did not mind being late because I found something which I've been trying hard to find for more than three days -- Mother Meadowlark's home. Since the first day I saw her hurrying low through the grass at the edge of the field I felt her nest was near by. Sure enough it was. It was made of grass, and in a clump of grass, and in it were five Baby Meadowlarks. I was so happy to find them, and so busy finding grasshoppers for them to eat, that I forgot what time it was and of course was late to school. But being as I had my lessons for to-day done yesterday teacher only kept me fifteen minutes after school. And then, having kept me in, she went with me to see the Meadowlark babies. I carefully gave her one grasshopper to give them. She, being of a timid nature, held that little grasshopper out on a piece of grass and before the birds had a chance at it the pesky thing hopped off the piece of grass and away.
May 15h -- A lovely shower has come to earth and sweet is the air most everywhere, but sweetest in the field here. We children have just been trying to find where so much fragrance is coming from. We did take in a big breath, and did smell, and did snuff and our search for it did end with Sweet Vernal Grass, for it was the source plainly enough. Sweet Vernal Grass, whose stems are so satiny, is called by scientists Anthoxanthum odoratum.

I saw two clouds at morning, tinged by the rising sun, And in the dawn they floated on, and mingled into one.