Indiana Roadsides

by
Jean Hughes
July 17 1995

Trumpet vines, laden with flowers, crawl along the fences. Beside the roads, tall bellflowers stand like rows of blue candles. Flocks of fragrant milkweeds hover around the fields of misty-white daisies. Chicory is so blue that I look up to see if a piece of sky is missing.

I love the way the wildflowers bide their time and then, given a chance, sneak in to bloom. They are tough and ready.

* * * Baby red-bellied woodpecker twins are coming to my feeder with their parents now. They have none of their red markings yet. Their heads are gray. They look dazzled by life. Their parents look frazzled, from trying to keep them fed.

Two chipmunks eat with the birds at the feeder. With seven dogs nearby, it seems they play a risky game with life.

There is a summer sound that I would recognize if I were blindfolded. It is the snap of fresh green beans. Cooked with a little bacon or ham and served with cornbread, fresh cabbage slaw, homegrown tomatoes and wild black raspberries, it was one of the meals that was a favorite when I was a little girl. As we ate, we would laugh and ask each other, "What do you think the rich folks are eating tonight?"

Sometimes, for variety, I barbecue green beans or prepare them using this Italian recipe.

Napoli Beans

Cook in water until tender: 1 qt. snapped green beans, 1/2 of 
a chopped green pepper and salt to taste.
Drain and stir in: 2 T. butter.
When the butter has melted, fold in, gently: 1/4 cup
Parmesan cheese.
Serves 4.

Tonight, at sundown, I sit at my desk and look through a big spider web that is stretched across my window. Each strand is like a prism catching every color from the setting sun. The spider who built this enormous web is no bigger than a pin head. She scurries up one strand and down another -- walking over rainbows.

As the sun fades, the web turns to spun gold. It is fool's gold, but, for a moment, it makes me wealthy.

* * * This week I have been watching a male cardinal feed a baby cowbird. I have named the baby Shadow. He is forever at the heels of the cardinal. The foster-father knows no peace. He stuffs the cowbird all day long, and still the baby flaps his wings for more and more.

Cowbirds lay their eggs, one at a time, in other birds' nests. They never raise their own young. They get their food by sitting on the backs and faces of cows to catch and eat insects that the cows attract. They seem to lead an easy life.

* * * One evening this week, I made a rock garden beside my house. I planted marigolds, petunias and coleus. I worked by starlight and porch light.

It is beautiful in a flower bed at night. The twilight dew concentrates the heady aromas, and flower colors are lovely in the dim light.

As I prepared the spot for the garden, I destroyed the home of four toads. When I was finished planting and arranging, I said, "There you are, toads. Now you have a little Garden of Eden with not an apple tree in sight."

Six toads are now in residence in the garden. Toads take three years to grow to maturity. I have two babies, two teenagers and two mature toads.

Whenever I water the flowers, one of the teenagers hides his face in the corner of the house. The two babies hop onto the basement windowsill. Toad watching fills me with glee.

* * * I walk down my road through the moment of silence that always comes just at the end of day. My heart fills with sweet music. Maybe it is the trumpet vines playing "Taps" to tell the earth that it is time for a peaceful night.