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   c a l e n d a r    o f    o h i o    e v e n t s:    j u n e

--- R O B E R T   M I L T N E R

Newly spread manure smells fertile, seems as honest as sweat in the just-plowed and joyous fields; soybean farmers especially are quite excited to be getting on with such sprouting this spring.

No trains run on rails rusting from continuous disuse on discontinued routes, no freight, no conductor to wave to the children playing in the haymows.

Never have we seen such an eyeful: everything that ever even minimally flowered is maxxed-out this year: pinkwhite and yellow and whitepink and red and whitepurple and green background and then all around is more, more, so much more.

No squared corner in the pole barn, no lazy dog, no barn owl which nobody gives a hoot in hell about.

Now the motorists, driving into the country to get a good deal on antiques, say, My, isn't that what-do-you-call-that pretty? as they push the button on the cruise control.

No June picnics or brides, no ice cream socials in a month of endless comet's tails. No one's catching lightning bugs this June.

Nearby, on the country road adjacent, motorists roll up their minivan windows, pop in another CD, flick the buttons to on on their AC.

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