Indiana Roadsides

by
Jean Hughes
September 18, 1995

For several weeks, tall flowers have been sneaking up behind the brown-eyed Susans. Camouflaged in green, they waited for just the right day to burst into bloom. Every hollow along the roadsides and every unplanted spot is ready. Nature is down on one knee and today she leads the September cheer: Go! Go! Goldenrods!

Whenever I take walks now, I make side trips past the tomato vines and the fences covered with buckwheat flowers to glean the wonderful scents. But when I sashay along the concord grape vines, I have to admit that theirs is the fragrance supreme!

I Think

     Who needs strong wine?
     My heart gets tipsy from the grapes still on the vine.
     I'm heady from the wafts of life I drink 
     From this sweet, old fermented earth,
     I think!

It is hard to wait for the grapes to get to the point of sweet perfection. There is no taste to compare with that of a concord grape that has vine ripened to grape-sugar.

Concord Grape Cobbler

Slip skins from 10 cups stemmed and washed grapes. 
Reserve skins.
Heat pulp to boiling. Rub through a food mill.
Combine in a large pan: skins, pulp, 2 cups sugar, 2 1/2 T. quick
tapioca, 1/4 t. cinnamon and 2 T. lemon juice.
Allow to sit for 5 minutes. Cook about 6 minutes or until thickened.
Pour half of filling into a 9 by 9 inch greased pan.
                          Biscuit Topping
Sift together: 1 cup flour, 2 t. baking powder, 1/4 t. cream of tartar,
1/4 t. salt and 1/4 cup sugar.
Cut in: 1/4 cup butter.
Stir in, to drop consistency: 1/3 to 1/2 cup light cream.
Drop by tablespoonfuls over hot filling.
Bake at 450 degrees for 12 minutes. Serve warm.
Pour reserved half of filling into a 9 by 9 inch foil-lined pan.
Cool, wrap and leave in pan until frozen. Keeps 6 months.
To bake, place unwrapped frozen filling in greased original pan.
Bake at 400 degrees for 20 to 30 minutes or until bubbling, 
stirring occasionally.
Remove from oven. Turn oven to 450 degrees. 
Proceed as for fresh cobbler.

This morning I step outside and my whole dooryard is sparkling. I stoop to look at a dewdrop and get a surprise. Reflected in the droplet is a tiny mirror reflection of the sun. I realize that it is the sun's images that cause the sparkling of my creeks as well as the twinkling of raindrops and dew. I run around my yard laughing and bobbing up and down, looking at dewdrops and shouting, "Look at that! Isn't that something!"

I know that my discovery is common knowledge to many people, but I have seen it for myself, and that is pure joy. It is the little joys of living on earth that are difficult to express, but I hope they can be passed from heart to heart between the words that I write.

We can all sing of the beauties, loves and joys of our own lives and try to share them, but everyone must be joyful for himself or herself. We must find, in every moment of our lives, our own drops of dew.

* * * Last night, I watched moths hurry to the porch light when I turned it on. I brought my binoculars and looked from the side, just under the light. There were streams of fluttering moth wings, in every size, making lovely, lighted, wiggling, zipping, fiery, shimmering streaks across the dark. It was a celebration of natural fireworks, in miniature.

As I walk tonight, I watch one season go into hiding and another come to light. I feel my heart's been here before. These are the days of my eternal life. One by one, they show new beauties to me.

Summer's Last Dance

     I've seen the last of summer in the fogs.
     September takes me into feathered nights.
     Fungi are sprouting from the fallen logs,
     And winds are playing scores for autumn rites.
     The green is fading into burnished gold,
     And leaves are changing into spectrum falls.
     The memories of summer feel the cold,
     And out on every hill the winter calls.
     The jays commune in strident, cool-pitched keys.
     Mists cling onto the fields at break of morn.
     Starshine and moonlight, hypnotized by trees,
     Are dancing in the aisles between the corn.
     And I am turning to the autumn's ways,
     And doing my last steps for summer days.

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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