Fall on the Big Draw?

  Here it is almost the end of November and the Bayou is finally seeing a bit of "fall color".  While this may seem late to most folks, it is about normal for this far south.  In the Deep South, we seem to have a lack of seasons.  Our year sort of goes like...early summer, summer, late summer and a cool front.  While we occasionally get a visit from Jack Frost, the winter-like weather does not linger long.  From the pier, I could see far up into the depths of the Bayou.  While there are numerous dead pine trees (resulting from the frequent lightning strikes this August), there were still a few trees that were showing their fall foliage. The popcorn trees, maples and cypress trees stood out brilliantly as they were nestled in among some young, dark green pines.  This thicket is home to a good many of my critter friends and stands as a buffer between the Bayou and the neighboring houses.

  The Bayou actually meanders back from the Bay all the way to where it turns into a creek which the previous generation of the family always called the "Big Draw".  (I am not sure where that name derived nor if I am even spelling it correctly but I do recall as a kid hearing folks using it as a name for the Bayou.  "If you go over towards the Big Draw you can always find redfish." "The gator is nesting in the Big Draw this summer."  "I recall the time that plane crashed in the Big Draw."  Everyone knew just what place was mentioned and never questioned it.  We had the Big Draw and the Little Draw.  These are both bayous of sorts with mine being the larger of the two.

  Thinking back on all of the names that were attached to things around here by my ancestors makes me wish that I had listened and questioned more.  Like any kid, I did not.  I do have the ready excuse that I am from the era of "kids are to be seen and not heard".  It was not our place to always be questioning why adults did things so a lot went unlearned.  I now regret not making a written history of the past.  Things go the wayside and will continue to do so.  Soon, no one will even think about the Bayou, Big Draw, Little Draw or possibly even of me.  
  
  In the meantime, however, I will enjoy what little is left of the Bayou and its surrounding area.  Progress is encroaching rapidly and perhaps soon will step in where it is not wanted.   Then, I, too, will become some fleeting memory of those around me.