Summer, that sweetest of seasons, soon will cast its spell upon the land . . . while the nagging we know as wanderlust takes its annual toll. Rivers will rush through gorges and glacial valleys, and breezes will scatter summer's fragrance . . . apple blossoms and honeysuckle and new-mown hay.
Vacationers will motor to the seashore and mountains and to ranches from Washington to Wyoming and Maine to Minnesota, where darkness will bring out the spectacle of a near-for-gotten Milky Way. Others will stroll along towpaths beside the Delaware and raft down rivers boiling with white water.
Summer is a time for rediscovering rural America with its white-steepled churches, endless plains and rolling hills. Vacationers will cast for trout and explore miles of forested land while eagles wheel overhead and the chorus of crickets rises like the echo from a childhood dream.
Those arriving from the city will find solace in country inns, their prize being an elusive peace and a turn-of-the-century hospitality reflecting a former America.