by
Jean Hughes
July 22, 1996
It's hot! A breeze is a boon. It's dry! The earth is thirsty. With any slight movement in the road, the dust does a rain dance, but to no avail. The clouds promise but do not deliver. Creeks gasp. Trees pant. Birds' tongues are hanging out. Wouldn't it be fine to have some of those cool cloud squeezings and some white lightning. The land and all of us upon it need a day of pure, sweet rain.

* * *
At the first pink of dawn, streaks of misty-gold lie in the pockets of the field. The sun rises amid the twits and tweets of sparrows and peewees. Through the musical hubbub comes the clear, sweet piping of a wood thrush. Every day, the birds sing to the beauty of the morning.

Kingbirds are posted all around the field. They swing up and do slight stops in mid-air as they snatch bugs. They look like dancers above a flowered floor doing a hesitation waltz.

Today, the field is a giant Queen Anne's lace bouquet. I stop to look at the tiny centers of these dainty blossoms. They have a strong little purple heart.

Along the woods' road the wildflowers are shoulder high. As I near the stream, the water's coolness comes to greet me. There is a slight timbre in the water that skims gently around the rocks and languishes by. A soft breeze whispers from the humid leaves. The sounds of July are so quiet that they are almost a memory before they happen.

Horsemints, wingstems, bellflowers surround me. Summer's fliers hum in my ears. The moments of my life fleet by. Each one as unique as a fingerprint. Each one notable and infinite.

This is a successful nesting year. After feeding a round of baby cowbirds, the cardinals are now busy feeding their own nestlings. Downies and red-bellied woodpecker babies, and timid titmice and blue jay babies flutter their wings and squawk for food. New sparrows and cardinals dog their parents' wings.

Many of the mature birds are molting. This year, I have another of those cardinals that is completely bald. This bird's eye lashes are all that is left of the usual red on its head. The lashes stick out and look as if they are glued on.


A bountiful table is one of the blessings of living in the country. Simple fare is a part of the camaraderie at my house.

Orange-Molasses Chicken
Arrange on a well-greased jellyroll pan: 12 pieces of meaty chicken.
Bake at 400o for 20 minutes.
Meanwhile, in a saucepan, combine: 3 T. oil, 1/2 cup chopped onion, 
1/2 cup light molasses, 1/4 cup vinegar, 1 t. Worcestershire sauce, 
1 t. salt, 1/3 cup orange juice, the coarsely grated rind of 1 orange
 and 3/4 cup water.
Bring mixture to boiling and simmer for 10 minutes.
Pour half of sauce over chicken. Bake 20 minutes.
Turn chicken and pour on remaining sauce.  Bake 20 minutes or until
chicken tests done. 
Pour sauce into a skillet.
Return chicken to oven. 
To sauce, add: 1 T. cornstarch mixed with a small amount of water. 
Cook until thickened.
Spoon sauce over chicken pieces. Bake 10 minutes.
Cool chicken slightly before serving.
This chicken is very good when carried to a picnic and eaten upon arrival.

This evening, along my road, dragonflies cling to tall grass stalks. They have blue-black bodies and the blue reaches to the center of their wings. There, the wings become transparent, but with a swipe of white. The tips of the wings are gossamer with a fine blue-black line at the top. Are these lovely creatures laying eggs?

When darkness comes, venus shines into the face of the new moon. From earth, they look to be about a yard apart. I stare at the sky and think of all who ever did, do and will cherish the beauty of our universe.

The Crossing
                    Sometime we'll meet. We cannot stay away.
                    Radiant blueprints trembling into life,
                    Our heartbeats make a crossing through the clay.
                    No matter which direction you are from,
                    If you are first, I'll run to catch up with you,
                    Or drag my feet and wait until you come.
Copyright 1996, Jean Hughes.

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