by
Jean Hughes
February 19, 1996
Although I can hear the wind, and see its power, it does not seem to touch me as I walk along the road. No matter which direction I turn, I am in a calm.
I was out early this morning, doing my chores. On a day such as this, I cannot stay indoors. Snow-covered hills call to me with an even louder voice than those that are flower-covered in the springtime.
As I lean against a tall high-limbed sycamore tree, I get a surprise. The tree trunk sways all the way to the ground, and I feel as if I am rocking. This is like standing on a boat on a rolling sea -- it is nature's rock and roll.
I stroll along the bank where the water is open. It is rushing and playing dashing songs. I stand and listen. This is a day when there are no man-made sounds. It is too wild today for all but us wildlings.
I have learned how to dress in warm clothes, so I can go anywhere on my land on any day in winter, so over the hills I go. It is easier to keep warm when it is cold than it is to keep cool when it is hot and muggy.
Yesterday afternoon, Chris and I walked in the rain that was turning to snow. He likes to be out with me, and we let the weather fend for itself.
We watched tree sparrows and cardinals flick through the hollows, and we talked of the wonders of warm boots as we splashed through puddles along the roadsides. Along a deep-woods path, Chris found a rodent tooth for his bone collection. Coming home through the orchard, we tried to figure out how we could get last year's high-hanging oriole's nest for his nest collection, but it is out on too small a limb. We laughed and said that we needed a traveling air balloon.
That reminded me of the day that five air balloons were coming down in the field next to my house. My mother was with me then, and she cried in alarm, "Space ships are landing!"
I ran out into the yard and saw that it was air balloons. What a relief! But, afterwards, I was amazed at my bravado.
The balloonists were having a contest and my field was one that was a big enough space for them to throw their markers or land, which three of them did. It was quite exciting and gave my mother and me an unusual memory.
Mix together: 5 cups flour, 1/4 cup sugar, 3 1/2 t. baking powder, 1 t. baking soda and 2 t. salt. Cut in: 1 cup shortening. Add: 1 pkg. yeast dissolved in 2 T. very warm water and 2 cups buttermilk. Knead together slightly with hands. Place on a well-floured board. Roll 1/4" thick for cracker-like biscuits or 1/2" thick for fluffy biscuits. Bake immediately at 350o for 15 minutes or freeze unbaked biscuits on a cookie sheet. When frozen, store in plastic bags. Thaw frozen biscuits for 15 minutes before baking.
The wind in the sycamores, water rushing in the creeks, the calling of owls and coyotes, and a true barbershop chord are all sweet harmony.
At 10 p.m. the thermometer hovers around 5o above zero. I bundle up for a short walk with my dogs. We walk by snow and starlight, for there is no moon. The wind howls. Clusters of stars, unseen at other times of year, palpitate in the dark sky.
As my dogs and I turn toward home, I look up to see Orion walking his dog. On worn paths, stars walk the sky and we the earth. The universe seems very small.
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. Ten of Jean's favorite recipes will be included free with each book ordered. Order from...
Country Mile Publications
616 E. Monroe St.
Delphi, Indiana 46923