June 15, 2016 - Daily Notes, From the Editor

I cannot recall all of the Junes of my life, but I do remember the way it felt to hide in child-made nests under birch trees in the tall grass that lined Chemawa Road.

School was out. Like little deer mice, we made paths through the weeds and burrowed where we could watch an occasional adult drive slowly by, coming or going from the cul-de-sac. We were hidden, and we were free.

My friend's father brought her a chicken sandwich from McDonald's each day and she always shared them with me there in the shade of the paper barks. In exchange, I'd give her half of however many homemade chocolate chip cookies I'd managed to grab from the glass Planter's Peanuts jar before my mother noticed the heist and said, "That's enough."

We also brought books, magazines, candy, and notes folded neatly into little rectangles with fancy edges securing their contents from prying eyes. It is astonishing what a child has time to learn when school is no longer in session.

The sun was hot in the farm country north of Salem, Oregon, and the smell of sweet grass mixed with cherry bubblegum perfumed our hideaway as we debated whether to set a sprinkler and run through it or ride our bikes down back to the railroad tracks and leave pennies where our parents told us not to.

We knew how to savor June.

Laura Lowery is the founder, editor and publisher of Lucia. She does her best to lead a creative life. Whether triumphant or stumbling, Laura shares daily notes (that are often weekly) here on luciajournal, including stories, behind-the-scenes happenings, little doses of inspiration, and large quantities of curiosity and heart. She is pleased to meet you.