Seeking Serenity

   Sometimes, you just have to slow down and take things as they come.  You can literally work yourself into a frenzy attempting to accomplish all that the brain tells you to do.  When that happens, it is time to step back, think if all of the hustle and bustle is worth the end result and then make a decision that deems itself worthy.  Mine, today, was to sit back and enjoy the jasmine and roses which are in full bloom just outside the front door.  I dragged the wicker chair from another part of the yard, poured myself a second mug of coffee and breathed deeply.  The coolness of the morning, the scent of jasmine and roses and total relaxation was good for the soul...not to mention the mind.

  Lately, I have been feeling that I have been slacking.  It seems that I am far behind where I should be by this season.  Perhaps that comes with not seeing a garden flourishing but it was my decision to not overplant the spot.  Five tomato plants and five pepper plants are all that were planted this season other than herbs.  It was my plan to dote on those herbs and replenish my waning stockpile.  Sure, I could just head to the store and buy the outrageously expensive stuff but, with all the recalls, as of late, I am hesitant to do that.  So, herbs it is!  Those shall be dried and stored for future use.  

  In the meantime, however, I shall continue to putter around in the garden spots if for no other reason than to enjoy the blooms and glorious aromas.  Gardens...they are good for you...sometimes simply by being. Bask in the serenity that only nature can bring.

There is a painting in that sunrise!

   That time just before the sun shows its face above the pines on the opposite side of the Bayou is my favorite time of day.  Usually by then, I have been up for a while and have most of my indoor chores completed.  I can head to the pier to collect the thoughts before starting in on the garden.  Between the pier and garden, I am not sure which would be called my "favorite place" but that pier sure has a strong hold. I go to watch the sunrise and see Mark off as he heads fishing.  He and I fully agree that "There is nothing like fresh fish for lunch."

  Sometimes, that sunrise can stir the brain a bit and cause the imagination to set in motion.  This probably comes from time spent with my grandparents as they both encouraged my creative endeavors even at a young age.  Granddad, especially, would push me with "Can you see a painting in that sunrise?"  I could and I would try.  My painting abilities never reached the quality that I wished but it matters not.  I still "see" that painting.  

  A couple of days ago, Mark and I were remarking about how the fog had settled in on the marsh just enough to make the sun stay dark until it was well over the tops of the pines.  I took photograph after photograph of this mysterious beauty, all the while, hearing Granddad's voice reminding me to look for the painting.  I can see it.  I wish I could paint it.  Perhaps, Darling Daughter will fulfill that wish for me. Granddad is the inspiration, I will provide the photograph and she can work her magic on the canvas!  

All Is Not Well!

   Son and I have been clearing a spot back behind the greenhouse and shed for yet another greenhouse.  This one, my sweet sister-in-law gave to me.  It is one of those sort of popup things that have the green plastic top but I am excited because I plan on putting it over some raised gardens.  Fresh veggies in the middle of winter sound delightful.  Son decided that clearing the spot was the perfect chore for this week so we have been busy for the past four days.  Now, he will have to complete the task by himself.  I am sort of incapacitated.

  My chore this morning was to pick up the roots that he was digging from the ground and toss them on a pile near the marsh edge.  There, he could move the whole bunch without too much trouble.  Well, on one of the trips down the hill in the wooded area, I found a pier board.  This is not unusual as Hurricane Zeta plopped them everywhere.  The bad part is, the board was covered with about six inches of leaves and, well, I found it the hard way.  The board had nails.  My soft sneaker was no challenge for those nails and my foot now bears the results of that savage attack.  I stepped right on one of the nails and impaled the right foot.  Ouch! 

  I feel bad that Son will have to complete this project but the foot is not being too happy, at the moment.  Hopefully, this will be a short and sweet recovery and I will be back in the gardens again soon.  If it isn't one thing, it is another.  Goodness!

Five Dollar Rebate

   I have this grand distaste for women's jeans as workpants.  They just don't work.  The fabric is flimsy and the jeans are far too expensive to be worn in my rough and tumble world.  Working here is not for the weak whether it be in human strength or in manmade items.  The weak simply do not survive.  That said, it is easy to see why my choice in work clothes usually starts with the thick, heavy duty (and relatively inexpensive) men's work jeans.  Those can take a lot of wear and tear without giving in to the rigorous tests that I throw at them.  Two pairs have lasted me for an entire year of almost daily wear (one pair on while one is in the wash).  Today, while Mark was running errands, he remembered that I mentioned needing a couple of new pairs so he brought home three!  I am set for another year of hardcore chores now.  Goodness!  I love that thick denim material as it reminds me of clothing worn back on the farm.

  As soon as I pulled the jeans from the bags, I tossed them into the washing machine to rid them of some of the dyes.  Once the pants were washed and dried, I decided to try on a pair.  Imagine my surprise when I shoved my hand in the front pocket of one pair and found a folded up $5 bill!  Whoa!  That is a weird way to give a rebate but, hey, I will take whatever I can get.  Yes, I did check the other pockets but, alas, no more bills could be found.  Still, a five dollar discount is always a nice surprise.

Fish....Brain Food!

   I was reading not too long ago where there are folks in Canada doing research on seafood and its effect on the brain.  The tests are mainly concerning whether seagulls eating garbage (and French fries from handouts) in the large cities are as smart as their counterparts along the coastal areas with their seafood diets.  On "intelligence" tests involving several methods of retrieving food, the coastal seagulls scored immensely higher than their citified cousins.  These studies are, of course, limited with sketchy results but could be compared (at least in theory) to the of studies of healthier diets in humans.  I guess the old sayings of "You are what you eat." and "Fish is brain food."  Seafood, barring that high in mercury, really helps in the long run.  Most cognitive tests run on humans are suggesting that diet has a lot to do with our brainpower.

  I was pondering that while on the pier the other morning.  A beautiful, healthy-looking seagull came to visit.  Here, it has been duly noted that the seagulls are cunning and can survive under the most dire situations.  They are a resilient sort and can outwit most of the other critters here.  They, along with the other fish-eating birds, have sharp minds.  It does not take any of these birds long to figure out how to open closed bait buckets or work together to attain a free meal from even would be predators.  

  After watching the seagulls and studying their habits, I figure the next time someone refers to me as a "birdbrain", I shall take it as a compliment, especially if my mental abilities are compared to those of a seagull.  So...folks...eat more seafood and fewer French fries!  

Windchimes...Not For Me!

   Windchimes are not for me.  I do love the melodic tinkling that fills the air with each breeze coming off the Bay.  I do love the intricate designs of some of the better made chimes.  I do love the ingenuity behind those who can put together a chime that can send a listener into a calmer mood.  I do not love restringing those things once the weather has taken a toll on the piece.  That, my friends, is NOT for me!  I usually do not have a problem with repairing things that become broken.  As a kid, I was always taught to repair or repurpose damaged items but restringing a windchime this morning nearly got the best of me.  The style with metal tubes or bamboo pieces never presented a problem so I decided it was time to repair one that was strung with capiz shells.  That small chime set made me realize just how "fumble fingered" (Mom's phrase) I have become.  I could hardly tie the eight million or so knots that were required to get the goofy thing tinkling again!  

  In all fairness, I do have a good amount of arthritis in my right hand making it difficult to hold small things but I felt somewhat like a spider with fifty or so flipflopping bugs in my tangled web.  The fishing line that needed to be used was of the finest sort and those capiz shells are as light as feather.  (They also have sort of a chalky coating making them hard to grasp!)  Each time, I would poke that line through one hole, it would slip and slide right back out and occasionally poke itself into the wrong place. Tying the knots was another story as they had to be tight enough to not slip but not too tight where the paper thin shell would cut them.  Keep in mind I did all of this at five in the morning so the brain was probably still a bit sleep-skewed.  

  Still, about two hours after starting, I finished the job! It was one of those "can't quit" things because the cat would have surely made things a lot worse had I abandoned the task midways.  Had...to...finish!  Should I have just tossed the chimes and bought a new?  Nope.  My nephew brought the windchimes from the island where he lives.  The locals there make amazing crafts from what they have on hand and he knew I would appreciate the workmanship. I love the windchimes and the music remind me of my incredible nephew.  Besides, I am not one to trash something without attempting to repair it first.  This attempt nearly did me in, however!  Hopefully, I will never get a harebrained idea to use capiz shells for anything...ANYTHING!

Trying My Hand At A New Craft

   Several years ago, my brain suffered a "tock" when it should have "ticked".  Son and I were on the pier when I seemed to lose all ability to talk and even move.  His thoughts immediately turned to "Mom is having a stroke!"  Neither of us had our phones and he knew he could not leave me on the pier so he (somehow) managed to get me to the shore and up the hill to the Little Bayou House.  A trip to the ER and a brief hospital stay saw me hale and hardy again.  There were a few lingering problems that needed tending, however, so my kids kept after me.  Their therapy soon turned to "learn something new" which led to my current hobby of repairing antique clocks.  This was something that never crossed my mind before so it was definitely new territory!  Now, it has become almost a passion to seek out dilapidated clocks and restore them to their once regal state. 

  A few months ago, a "new" cuckoo clock was obtained and it met the broken standard to a T.  It was in shambles.  I was a bit intimidated, at first, but soon found myself tinkering with the mechanism.  That is always my beginning point.  Fix the inner workings then repair the housing.  Finally, the clock was ticking away and cuckooing halfway.  One bellows still needed to be repaired.  I started on the housing...the fun part!  Once the pieces were cleaned, hand-rubbed with polish and reattached, all seemed well...except...except that the pediment (top, decorative piece) was missing.  Simple!  I shall just buy a replacement!  Nope...none were to be found...anywhere.

  This brought me to my new craft!  Both of my sons prodded me to "make your own".  Well, I had never carved a thing before in my entire life but I decided to try.  Keep in mind that I have a very arthritic right hand (I am right-handed) and no fancy carving tools...still I was determined.  Armed with an Exacto knife and a rotary tool sander, I flipped through my stash of wood pieces.  None seemed to be even similar to the linden wood that the master woodcarvers used to create the original clocks.  Not to be daunted, I opted for some cedar simply because the color was similar.  Then...I carved.  

  This particular clock is supposed to have an owl seated among the leaves as a pediment.  I knew I could never replicate the detailed work of the master carvers, so I took a little creative leeway with my carving.  I still did four leaves, a cluster of grapes and an owl but they are vastly different that what should be on the clock.  My hand would often seize up and cause a delay and then would ache terribly at night but I refused to stop.  I WOULD carve something that resembled the original pediment...not copy...just resemble.  

  All in all, the attempt was not a dismal failure.  It is far from perfect but not terribly disappointing.  (I have, however, come to the realization that I shall never, ever become a master woodcarver!)  I learned a lot, found it interesting and created a pediment that worked.  Do I want to carve other pieces?  Maybe?  It could become a new hobby along with the myriad of other crafty doings.  I do need to give the hand a rest, however!  In the interim, I shall attempt to re-leather that silent bellows!  My cuckoo clock is coming along nicely and I am definitely learning.  (The only downside to all this clock repair is that I am running out of wall space to hang them!)