by
Jean Hughes
March 27, 1995

Just before sundown, I walk along the trail beside the small creek that borders one side of my farm. The creek water rushes, gurgles and bubbles, and the foam dances in the last-of-evening sunlight. I linger until it is almost dark, then, reluctantly, I walk in the blue twilight, up the hill to home.

I sit on the back porch to watch the evening shadows fade. A light rain begins to fall. I lift my face to feel its softness. Some moments in life are very lovely.

I find that the memory of April's beginning is pale compared to its reality. It reaches out and caresses everything it touches. It brushes the trees into bud, the flowers into bloom and the birds into song. It stirs in me a gentle feeling.

Grandma lived most of her life in the hills of southern Missouri, and along the Mississippi River. She was a true hill woman. During much of her married life she lived in a log cabin. This was during the days of Abraham Lincoln and the James boys.

At the end of her life, when I knew her, she lived in an era which she never entered. She never shortened her skirts above the ankle. Every evening she sat on the porch in her rocking chair and smoked her corncob pipe. She was sure that electricity was going to burn down her house.

But Grandma was more attuned to nature than I am. A late ice storm would have left her undaunted. She always expected winter to last until the first of May. None of this running around shouting, "Spring is here" at the first little breath of warm air. May first, that was her day of days. That was the day to take off long johns, go barefoot for the first time, take down the heating stove, and start wallpapering and house cleaning. No matter how spring beckoned, Grandma played it safe.

I know from experience that living in the hills sometimes plays havoc with the practical side of a person's nature. In April, when a soft breeze brushed her face and the little creeks in her hills and hollows ran fast, I wonder if, maybe, just for a moment, she didn't give in and become an April fool. Being my kin, I bet she did. I hope so.

Cook by directions: 1 - 8 oz. pkg. noodles. Drain and add 1 T. butter.
Simmer for 10 minutes in a covered skillet: 2 cups milk,
1 small chopped onion, 1 t. salt and 1 lb. frozen sole 
or whitefish, thawed.
Reserve liquid. Flake fish and reserve.
In a large skillet, melt: 1/4 cup butter.
Add, and simmer until tender: 1/2 cup chopped green pepper.
Add, and stir until bubbly: 3 T. flour, 1 t. dry mustard and 
1/4 t. pepper.
Stirring constantly, boil gently for 1 minute while 
slowly adding fish liquid.
Add: 1 cup corn and 1 cup grated cheddar cheese.
Layer in a 3 qt. buttered casserole dish: 1/2 noodles, 1/2 flaked fish
and 1/2 sauce. Repeat layers.
Top with: 3 chopped, hard-cooked eggs and 1/4 cup chopped pimento.
Bake at 350 degrees for 40 to 45 minutes.

After a couple of hours, I jump up and run up a hillside. Oh, April, make fools of us all. Bring out the wild in us. Wake us up to all your charms. Make us take off our world's caps and come to the jamboree of birds and flowers, sunshine and raindrops. Call us to the celebration of the resurrection of life that can be seen in every tiny flower and every new blade of grass, to the revelry of the natural beauty that has been so lavishly bestowed upon the earth and its creatures. Whistle, roar and spread your perfume, April, until we cannot resist the party --the Jubilee of Spring.

Jean's book of ramblings and recipes "A Country Mile of Winter" and her book of poetry "The Earth's My Home" are available for $4.95 each plus $1.30 for postage and handling. Her nature letter "Diary of a Back Yard Naturalist", published 5 times yearly, is available for $12.50 per year. Ten of Jean's favorite recipes will be included free with each book or nature letter ordered. Order from...

Country Mile Publications
616 E. Monroe St.
Delphi, Indiana 46923