by
Jean Hughes
July 10, 1995
I have a memory for sights and sounds, but I cannot remember fragrances. They must always be experienced in the moment. I know that winter rides in on a snowflake, fall floats in on festive leaves and spring trickles in through the hollows. But the beginning of summer eludes me. It is a scent, and I must wait for it.

The day that elderberry blossoms waft perfume around me, I say to myself, "Today its really summer." The sweet aroma fills the air as it moves through the trees. Leaf brushes leaf, and as they touch there come the shivering melodies of muted foliage tambourines.

* * *
I walk in the heat of the day. Gnats encircle me. A zebra swallowtail flaps near and then rests on the top of a dead tree trunk. Through the blue-background sky, a buzzard sails. We are all a part of patient nature, constantly formed and reformed.

Far away, a storm gathers. The lightning and the booming are spectacular. The air is charged. I walk in the light rain, until the storm comes near and chases me inside.


After a long walk, I like to cool off under my dooryard tree with ice tea. These lemon cookies complement hot or cold tea all year round.

Merry Sunshines
Cream together: 1 cup soft butter, 1 T. lemon extract and
1/2 t. vanilla.
Add, gradually: 2 cups sugar.
Add and beat in well: 3 egg yolks.
Sift together and add: 2 1/2 cups flour, 1 t. baking soda, 
1 t. cream of tartar and 1/4 t. salt.
With a gentle hand, form dough into 1 1/2 inch balls and 
place 2 inches apart on an ungreased cookie sheet.
Dip the slightly dampened bottom of a glass in sugar and
flatten the cookies.
Bake at 350 degrees for 10 minutes or until golden brown.

For the past few years, wild black raspberries have been in short supply, but this year berries are everywhere. I pull through brambles and tall, thick growth. Raspberry thorns are vicious, but wild berries are worth a few scratches. If the meek inherit the raspberry patches, they will need to develop a tough hide.

I plan to save every berry for cobblers and jam, but my good intentions give way when the raspberry aroma strikes my nose. I pop the biggest berries into my mouth -- ambrosia!

When my bucket is full, I head up the hill. A daddy-longlegs, the color of a day lily, walks beside me. The only sound is the far-off murmur of the creek. I ramble up the hill into the faint song of a wood thrush. There is quiet joy in a berry picking day.

* * *
It is always spidertime in the hills. They live either indoors or out-of-doors all year round. On this foggy morning, webs that look like big pieces of broken frost cling by the hundreds to the grass tips in my yard. Along the fences there are gauzy roads running up and over clovers, across grasses and down around pineapple weeds. These webs of gossamer and dew are the beauty that is made from life going about its business.

* * *
The doors of nature open quietly, and at their own pace. At the edge of a field, I duck-walk through rose briars, leave the hot sunshine and step into a deep-shaded woods.

Summer flowers cannot live here, but remnants of spring flowers are ripening their fruits. A peewee's song tells that the breath of summer is only a rose hedge away.Š I have to crawl back into the sunshine, as I cannot find my entrance spot. I have found two worlds only a few feet apart.

CENTER>* * * This evening, I take a last walk down the road. Half-moonshine dips the fields in twilight glow. A haunting July evening in the hills does not need a fantasy. It is a mid-summer night's dream.

Copyright 1995, Jean Hughes.

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

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