by
Jean Hughes
June 10, 1996
A robin and whip-poor-will sing a continuous duet before dawn. Slowly, the whole earth beams with a glow like that from an oriole's breast. The singing stops. The color in the sky fades to blue. A last-of-spring day is launched into eternity.

I walk into the music of the morning, into the songs of a cuckoo, a white-eyed vireo and a chat. Suddenly, joy fills my heart. By the gate, a bob white calls. A female answers. For three years, I have waited for that clear sweet call and its diminutive answer.

The eggs in the oriole's nest have hatched and both parents are flying constantly back and forth with food. But my little bluebird is still brooding. The male is always near and, occasionally, she comes out of the box and eats under my feeder.

At this moment, the bluebird sits on a branch not 10 feet from me, while the female eats with the sparrows, cowbirds, chipmunks, brown thrashers, gold finches and woodpeckers. A cardinal and an oriole sing over this melange of colorful life.

Yesterday, the brome grass bloomed. Today the blossoms are all gone. Because they are almost hidden, few people see them, and they last only a day.

There are so many quick beauties to see in the wild. Once they become familiar they become a yearly treat, but I must be out every day for nature does not have a daily time clock, but a seasonal one.

* * *
This week, the catalpas bloom and the creamy blossoms of the small-flowered dogwoods light my roadside. The wahoo trees are also blossoming. The centers of the dime-sized magenta blossoms make the trees look as if they full of tiny dominos.

The green grows higher and higher as I lose my spring fever and turn toward the lazy days of summer I hear about but never find.

After working in the garden on this hot and humid day I feel limp. I am tempted toward a diet of wild greens, wild berries and eggs that the ducks provide, but tomatoes and corn are too alluring and I must plant more petunias for the hummingbirds.


Everywhere there is an available space, pineapple weeds bloom. I stir up their aroma as I brush between them. The memory lingers when I go indoors, so I make a pineapple cake for supper.

Pineapple Punch Cake
In a bowl, mix: 1 cup flour, 1 cup sugar, 1/4 t. salt and 1/2 t. baking soda.
Stir in: 2 slightly beaten eggs, 1/4 cup cooking oil and 1 cup 
crushed pineapple with its juice.
Pour into a greased 8 by 8 inch pan.
Bake at 350o for 25 to 30 minutes.
Meanwhile, boil together for 3 minutes: 1/2 cup canned milk, 
1/2 cup brown sugar and 1/4 cup margarine.
Remove from stove and add: 1/2 cup coconut and 1/4 cup chopped pecans.
With an fork, punch holes in the warm cake. Spread on topping. Serve warm.

Every year, we have black snakes living in our barn. Several times, I have had to herd one away from the house, as Merry thinks the snake might climb up and into her bedroom window.

However, last night we had a very unusual experience. Two of my dogs often bounce against the door to be let in, and when I heard a thump at the door I asked Merry to open it. She turned back wild eyed and screamed, "Jean, there's a snake at the door!"

I opened the door and there was a black snake, head up and looking in. It was unsettling, to say the least, and I would have been alarmed if I had not remembered that snakes have a keen sense of smell and that this door opens to the basement hall, where at least one mouse usually finds refuge. But even for me, it is not an everyday occurrence to have a snake knock and want to be let in.

* * *
This has been a memorable spring. I could remember it as the spring of the orioles and meadowlarks; of the returning of the bob whites and Carolina wrens; of the dozen warblers, especially the black-throated blue and the golden winged; of the black snake who came to call; of ducks and wildflowers galore; of water thrushes and kingfishers. The list of beauties in every season is endless.

But there is one beauty of this season that has surpassed all others for me. It has given me a joy that I will keep forever in my heart: this is the spring the bluebirds came to live next door.

Copyright 1996, Jean Hughes.

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
Delphi, IN 46923

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