by
Jean Hughes
September 4, 1995

Fall rolls up and down from the top of the continent like an ocean wave. Its tides are random. They begin with timidity and end in winter snows. Splashing red on the sumac and Virginia creepers, September gives signals that summer must stop.

A few maple leaves whirl to earth. Days begin and end in cool fog. Evening primroses bloom, sassafras fruit puts on its royal colors. Ironweeds stand tall and white snakeroot blossoms, thick as snowflakes, fill the woods' paths.

Pileated woodpeckers and red-tailed hawks fly low across the fields. Coyotes, who have been quiet during the hot weather, begin their hollow serenades. Trailing behind the tall white tails of does, speckled fawns flash their powder-puff tails. Barred owls exercising their voices, practice for fall concerts. "Whooah" they shout.

A sweet aroma fills the air. The thick carpet of wild cucumber vines put up their buds last week. This morning I discover that I am not the only one who has been waiting for them to open. Every variety of bee, hornet and wasp is buzzing over the sweet-smelling blossoms.

The cucumber plant has clusters of delicate, small flowers, pearl green with dainty centers. Wild cucumber blossoms and the soft humming of the bees and their kin is sweet-scented music for a summer lullaby.

Cook: 5 pounds unseasoned pork ribs until almost tender.
Meanwhile, combine in a blender, or mix well: 1 large 
grated onion, 1/4 cup oil, 6 oz. tomato paste, 1/2 cup
water, 2 t. Worcestershire sauce, 1/4 cup soy sauce,
1/4 cup vinegar, 2 T. honey, 2 t. hot red pepper sauce, 
1/2 t. smoke and 1 t. dry mustard.
To barbecue: Using a covered grill, prepare hot coals.
Place hickory bark around the edges of the coals.
For 1 hour, baste and turn ribs often.

The moon is a mellow orange and tinges the clouds with a pale-orange glow. The sky is cloudy. There are only muted shadows on earth.

Now, the moon turns satin-white and lacy-black clouds drift across its face. As I watch, it becomes completely submerged in black, with only a dim silver-edged aura to give evidence of its shining.

Suddenly, a big break comes in the clouds and moonshine envelops my farm. It lies on the mist in the three hemmed-in fields behind the barn. Shadows slowly become prominent.

Although the moon has traveled from behind the leaves of the walnut tree to up over the barn, even with the evidence before me, I find it hard to accept that the earth and moon and I are whizzing and turning through space.

The stars shining down look new and alive, but we know that some of them are only a memory.

     It is said, stars in the sky are not there, they often die
          before light that they are sending gets to me.
     Am I, too, the afterthought of a person lately wrought?
     If I am, where am I now? Where can I be?
     Are the stars and I together making universal weather?
     Are we in the past or future, or on time?
     If you think that you can see us, don't be sure,
           it may not be us.
     But we're somewhere, for somebody made this rhyme.

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