by
Jean Hughes
August 19, 1996
I am out seeing the world. It is a blue morning. There is a light cloud cover. Along the back roads, corn fields and bean fields are indigo bunting-blue. Maples on the hillsides are turning their blue side up. Humidity, temperature, wind and sun are a conglomerate of perfection, according to human standards.

Small puffs of cloud rim the earth. Streams of coneflowers and evening primroses huddle against the roadside green. Cattails switch in the lively breeze. One orange butterfly weed stands alone in the lush pasture. Cattle graze against a backdrop of green hills. Wildflowers and trees and animals never look out of place on hillsides. They always seem to be just where they belong.

As I ride along the highway, I see an old house high on a hilltop. Two rocking chairs are on the front porch. It is a simple dwelling with a million-dollar view.

When I reach home, the dogs and I head down the hill to Karen Creek. I stray around the bend and soon have a pocketful of rocks and Indian beads.

The life in rocks moves so slowly that I cannot see the changes, but they do change, all things do. In its own way and time, everything on earth has a life. We are all living this day for the first and only time. What difference if we are two or 82? We can enjoy each new moment!

August is my favorite month for hunting rocks. The growth is too deep for woods walking, although I often venture in to see the beauty of the masses of flowers. But in summer there is no place like a cool-running stream. Rock hunting gives me an excuse to meander and loaf.

Pinks and jewelweeds languish along with me. They live in this charming spot and make is more beautiful. These wild places where I walk, they take me in. Nature always has open arms.


When cool days come along, I feel like kneading dough. It is not difficult to make fresh rolls for dinner, but when I want them for breakfast I use this overnight recipe.

Early Morning Yeast Rolls
On the day before serving, at 1:30 P.M., combine in a large bowl: 1/4 cup melted
shortening, 1 cup hot water, 1/2 cup sugar and 1 1/2 t. salt. 
Stir until sugar dissolves. Cool to lukewarm. 
Dissolve: 1 pkg. yeast in 1/2 cup very warm water. Add to cooled mixture along 
with: 1 whole egg plus 1 egg yolk, beaten. Reserve egg white.
Add: 5 1/2 to 6 cups flour. Mix and knead in bowl thoroughly.
Cover and set at room temperature. Punch down at 3, 4, 5, and 6 P.M.
At 7 P.M.: Punch down and shape 1/2 of dough into 12 rolls. 
Place in a greased 8 by 8 inch pan. 
Cover and allow to rise at room temperature for 12 hours.
Roll out remaining dough 1/2 inch thick.
Spread 1 beaten egg white over dough.
Sprinkle dough with: 1/4 cup sugar and 1 1/2 t. cinnamon. 
Roll as for jelly roll. Cut into 12 pieces and proceed as with rolls above.
In the morning, bake all rolls at 375o for 20 to 30 minutes.
Frost cinnamon rolls with icing of: 1 T. milk, 1 T. soft butter, 
1/2 t. vanilla and powdered sugar to spreading consistency.

Although there is an abundance of almost every living creature and plant this summer, spiders are scarce and I have seen few grasshoppers. The children and I walk the road before twilight to try to see rainbows in the mist that gathers above the fields. The rich scent of buckwheat vine blossoms fills the air. I ask, "Where are the grasshoppers?"

As though he heard me, a brown grasshopper zings onto my shoe. We all stoop to look at him. Grasshoppers are exquisitely marked. He stays on my shoe all the way up the road. When we return to where he hopped on, he hops off.

These kinds of happenings convince Merry and Chris that the wild creatures know and trust me. Chris says, "They know you like them, Jean." I feel it is uncanny serendipity to be allowed to take a grasshopper for an evening walk.

* * *
Just before sunset, I walk in the lot behind my house to see the ironweeds in the last of the slanting light. They are the same color as a rose-breasted grosbeak.

In and tree near me, a pewee works among the leaves. A great-crested flycatcher whirls over my head. Cardinals and field sparrows dart in and out of the tree tops. A towhee sings and a red-tailed hawk cries and cries in distress -- a flock of crows is harassing him. A dove takes flight above me, its pink breast flashing and its wings singing. A hummingbird flits into the jewelweed thicket by my side. Tonight, I walk among the birds the same as I walk among the flowers.

When dark comes, the August moon hangs in a plush-indigo sky. It is a goldenrod moon -- a sky flower. This has been a happy day and it is a splendid night. Corn grows, wind blows, creek flows, moon glows . . . Repose.

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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