by Lynne Weinberger

I never knew the gentle 70’s 

singing duo, Seals and Crofts,

were bikers. Or Texans. 

But they had to be -- their 

song Summer Breeze

perfectly captured the

sweetly-scented, heavy honeysuckle auria I enjoyed his morning

as I rode down some quiet North Texas country roads.

Those of us who wore out their vinyl of the same name in 1972 still 

remember the lyrics and the slow, soothing melody: 

    "Summer breeze, makes me feel fine,

    Blowing through the jasmine in my mind."

This morning’s route took us through small towns like New Hope, 

Altoga and Celina, past gentle rolling hills, bright green fields and

neatly rolled hay bales. There were scenes straight out of Norman 

Rockwell, had he painted Texas: a small farm with its tidy metal-

roof barn and the quintessentially proud and spindly town water 

tower looming protectively just behind the grove of trees.

We saw bright-eyed white goats munching their breakfasts, and

the sign in the driveway as we rolled past surprised me: ‘Show 

Goats’.  Who knew goats were 'shown'?  We tooled over 

well-worn bridges bearing sweet names like Honey Creek, and we 

curved around fields with jet-black cows dotted among the 

chartreuse background of their calm and quiet world.  

Winding up and down a thin two-lane ribbon of asphalt past

old-time-sounding places like Cottage Grove, the possibilities of a 

fresh new day surrounded by God’s gentle creatures - and that 

sweet, sweet air - seemed endless.  

Then there was the longhorn. He didn’t look too gentle, just curious

and wary as he tipped his magnificent spread toward us – from the 

far side of a split-rail fence.  

          "Sweet days of summer, the jasmine's in bloom;

            July is dressed up and playing her tune."

Yes, it’s already late August, but the feeling still lingers. The slow 

and steady pace of that old-fashioned, natural and organic world 

still exists, not too far away from the fast food and mega malls.  

Granted, the McMansions have begun to sprout up well north of 

McKinney, and the planned communities with the pretend covered 

wagons at their entrances have moved west, too. 

But for this city girl, going to the country, if only for a few hours, 

felt like coming home.  

(Thanks, Rich.)