Indiana Roadsides

by
Jean Hughes
July 31, 1995

The song of the yellow-billed cuckoo echoes through the hills. I am a little reluctant to answer his call, as some of my friends think that I am a borderline case already.

As usual, I throw caution to the wind and try to imitate this bird's high, hoarse, sharp, "ough, ough, ough." I pull in my breath with every call, making a sound something like a seal's bark.

So far, I haven't been able to call any cuckoos to me, but, knowing my luck, the next time I go down to the creek it will probably be overrun with seals!

* * * This week I have been chasing butterflies. Surely a rainbow must have splashed to earth and splattered colors onto all the butterfly wings. Butterflies of all sizes and colors waver over the fields, taking the sweets from the flowers. They especially like thistle nectar.

I sit down in a thistle patch. Spicebush swallowtails and thistle butterflies swarm around me like bees. Slowly, they flap their wings open and closed, as they drink their fill.

I glance down at a small spot of grass, and a miniature world appears. Bugs, tiny grasshoppers, colorful little beetles and ants of every size and description hurry to and fro. A yellow butterfly, no bigger than the tip of my finger, flutters about a wee flower.

This one square foot of earth is a small world. An earthworm would be a monster here. To the tiny creatures, the buzzard floating overhead would be as big as a pre-historic pterodactyl is to me. Today, I am the giant.

* * * It is a dark night. The stars seem close and bright. The time most constant through the seasons is the night. Summer and winter darkness breeds familiarity. Nights are more linked together because one of our senses is dimmed. We are not bombarded from all sides with the diverse beauties of the earth in daylight. There are only stars and moon to wonder on, as they gather the night. They are far away, but they link the seasons together and are our tie with the vast universe.

This cheese spread is good on brown bread or party rye.

Wahoo Valley Cheese Spread

Mix together: 8 oz. cream cheese, 1-5 oz. jar roka blue cheese,
1-5 oz. jar Neufchatel with pineapple and 1/2 cup flaked coconut.
Cover and allow to stand overnight in the refrigerator.

I was born and raised in the city. When I came to make my home in the country, I was surprised at the beauty of the blooms on what I had always called weeds. I remember walking behind my barn and seeing, for the first time, ironweed flowers with their purple-pink glow. It has been like walking into another world to find all the natural beauty that thrives if man just lets it alone.

The more I have come to know and love the flowers, the harder it has become for me to pick them. I do pick bouquets of wildflowers for friends who are sick or housebound, but I never pick flowers for myself. I like to let them live out their lives, wild and free.

A picked flower cannot sway in a gentle breeze, close its petals to the night, or turn its face to the sun.

Oh, If My Feet Had Wings

    I cannot pick one daisy, where they grow,
      and stop its beauty, for my heart says, "No!"
    And if my nose is pleased by some flower's breath,
      I cannot pluck, and sniff the thing to death.
    When o'er the fields and woodland paths I pass,
      step softly, so I do not crush the grass.
    Oh, if my feet had wings to set me free to roam
      an undestructive path through my wild flowered home!
    But it is sweet to know my heart can do a dance quadrille,
      and doing no thing harm, can waltz on tiptoe on a hill.