Hurricanes, Shrimp, Gars and Childhood Memories

   Since Son has completed the repairs on the pier, fishing, shrimping and crabbing have resumed.  It is almost unheard of to have so much activity going on in the Bay and Bayou...at least, in recent years.  The last time that I recall catching this many shrimp from a pier was way back in the late '60s.  Right before Hurricane Camille hit when I was just a kid, Pop was bringing home buckets and buckets of shrimp that he caught with his net.  Then...along came the hurricane and we were in a fine fix.  This was before the handy-dandy generators that are so popular today.  Pop rigged up a homemade "generator" of sorts from an old lawnmower engine to run our pump but it did not supply enough energy to keep the freezers going.  What was Mom to do with a freezer full of quickly thawing shrimp?  Of course...feed the linemen that were trying their best to restore the electricity to our house!  Pop built a makeshift outdoor burner (wood fired) and brought out the huge canning pots to boil shrimp.  Living on a farm, we had plenty of potatoes and eggs to make potato salad and supply other veggies as sides.  Word got out that we had homecooked meals and the hungry workers were soon feasting.  Mom and Pop both said that those were the "best parties" they ever hosted!  Plus, the hundreds of pounds of shrimp did not go to waste!

  Memories of the shrimp feasts came tumbling from the brain as I casted the net for yet more shrimp the other morning.  Our freezers are full.  Our kids' freezers are (or will be once they come) full.  We have supplied our elderly friends with enough peeled shrimp to give them multiple meals.  Plus, extended family members have received their shares.  Still...I catch.  Mark catches.  We both head and peel the shrimp and feed the needs of so many.  It is a good feeling.

  Along with those pounds and pounds of shrimp, the fish are biting so I always throw out a line as I am shrimping.  Mark usually heads out in the little skiff but I stay back on the pier.  While he is catching redfish and trout, I catch nothing but gars!  It seems that young gars are following the schools of shrimp so the other fish are staying a bit further out.  I kept seeing huge breaks in the water just at the shoreline so I figured perhaps the redfish were dining on shrimp.  Nope...gars.  Just gars.  Do I want a gar for anything?  Nope...not at all, so they get released back into the Bay.

  Those gars even brought back a memory of a "fishing trip" with two of my brothers.  They had found a scuttled boat and tried to make repairs.  Well, those repairs were not the best since they were done by two kids.  Still, I was game to go along with the adventure when they asked.  I was plum happy to be going with my big brothers ANYWHERE!  Little did I know we were going gar fishing on the other side of the Bayou.  They had seen some huge gars there and thought it might be fun to wrestle in one.  Also, little did I know that I was to be designated as "chief bailer".  After paddling to their fishing spot, I was handed a coffee can and told to bail out the water that was steadily seeping into the boat.  Ummm...a little girl with a tin can is not much defense against a myriad of leaks in a boat but I was too scared of the huge gars they were hooking to do anything but bail!  Obviously, there was a good reason that boat had been scuttled!  Oh, the things kids used to be able to do.  Back in the day, we were kids.  We had adventures.  We had childhoods. 

  It is pretty funny how certain things can pull memories out of the cobwebs in the corners of our brains.  When you are doing something repetitively like throwing the net, the mind wanders and recalls delightful things from the past...or, more likely, I am just getting old and wishing for times past.  Either way, the fish, shrimp and crabs are plentiful and I plan on catching and sharing as many as I can.  Perhaps along the way, I can share a few happy memories, as well.

Sort of Like Grandma!

   Following my paternal grandmother's lead, I do a lot of home canning of fruits and vegetables...a LOT of home canning.  Grandma's was out of necessity as she had Grandpa, six strapping sons and a lovely daughter to feed and "running" to a grocery store was out of the question back in those days.  Mom, on the other hand, had no idea how to do these things when she and Pop got married.  She was never taught since she had not grown up as a "farm girl".  That soon became a problem as just a mere week after their marriage, Pop brought several bushels of green beans from the fields and then proudly presented her with a brand new pressure canner!  She sat down and wept because she knew the task had to be done but had no idea how to begin.  Pop tried to explain and but to no avail.  Thankfully, his sister came to the rescue and taught Mom the fine art of home canning that summer.  Mom passed that along to me as a teenager and I have been doing it since. 

  The Saturday before Mother's Day, Mark and I came up with a plan to bring four of our elderly lady friends some fresh vegetables as gifts.  Even though these ladies are in their late 80s, they still appreciate good foods and still do their own cooking.  Mark went to a local farm and stocked up on a variety of veggies and berries, we made lovely boxes and then he headed out to visit each of the ladies.  They were thrilled.  I stayed behind and started prepping the remaining fruit and vegetables to be canned.  He had scored a great deal on a bushel of green beans and half bushels each of strawberries and blueberries.  My work was cut out for me! For the next few days, we canned the green beans and made jams and jellies from the berries.

  The only troubling part of this whole venture is the quality of mason jars that are sold today.  I refuse to put any jar with even a tiny, hairline crack in my canner and some of the new jars have plenty of those.  Plus, several of the lids were messed up coming straight from a new box!  Then!  Then, imagine my surprise when one of the canning rings from a new jar had a lovely cut in the metal.  Wow!  Workmanship has gone down the tubes, it seems.  That should have never, ever left the factory!  Who inspects these things?  Anyone?  Doubtful.  I am so thankful that Mark did not cut his hand as he was removing the rings from the new jars.

  That aside, I now need to find shelf space for the nigh on eighty more jars of goodies.  This brings the total back to over nine hundred jars on the pantry shelves...which, by the way, are my dining room shelves that span the entirety of one wall.  Grandma would be proud, I think!

"Ye Olde Clock Shoppe"?

  Some of you may recall that a few years ago, I was hospitalized for a "possible" stroke.  Fortunately, nothing much came of it so things went on as normal...or, at least, as normal as possible.  For several months, I was restricted from doing much strenuous work and was confined to what I dubbed as being the "Small Gardens".  Those were the rambling gardens surrounding the house where I reigned as self-proclaimed "Queen".  (Boredom is a rough thing for someone like me.)  Both my youngest son and my daughter set a rather stiff regime of "dos" to go along with those "do nots".  I was to start with stretches and then do cardio exercises.  Darling Daughter is a speech pathologist so she sent over quite a number of worksheets for me to practice and both of them demanded that I "learn" something...anything...just learn.  So...at that point of their plan, I fired back that I was going to learn antique clock repair!  I was actually being a bit facetious.  The words came out of my mouth before I thought the matter through.  Why?  Simply because my mom's old mantel clock was sitting idle and that was the first thing I saw.  I never guessed that they would hold me to my flippant statement.  They did.  So, I am repairing clocks and now the living room greatly resembles a clock shop of old.

  Since Mom's mantel clock was the first thing I tackled (and repaired!), it only seemed appropriate that I would finally get around to fixing another of her clocks.  This tiny chain-driven timepiece never worked since she got it way back in the early 1960s.  Pop was doing handyman work to supplement the farm income and one of his clients asked him to clear out a storeroom and discard everything.  He asked if he could have the stuff and the owners readily agreed.  He was told that the clock was from the '20s and was from Germany.  So, that was the whole story behind the non-working clock. Several people tried to fix the clock for Mom but none could ever get it to running.  The clock was stowed away in the closet until it came home with me some 30 years later.  The wee clock hung on the wall here still in bad shape until this week when mouthy me decided to have a go at fixing it.  The case was broken, the pendulum was missing and the mechanism was so gummed up with some sort of blue gunk that nary a gear would turn.  It took 3 days to finally clean and then oil the clock. Borrowing a pendulum from another of my clocks, I found that it would indeed tick!  That pendulum was returned to its original clock and, instead of ordering a new pendulum just yet, I handcrafted one out of a popsicle stick and a wooden (bird) ornament.  I fully expected that to be a flub but it worked!  The clock has been ticking steadily for the past 5 hours and keeping relatively good time compared to the many other clocks nearby. I think Mom would be thrilled!

  While all this is fun and I am learning, it suddenly occurred to me that "Ye Olde Clock Shoppe" look is really taking hold of the living room.  It is quaint.  It is interesting.  It would drive most people crazy.  The rhythmic ticking, the outbursts of chimes, gongs and chirping and the cluttered walls is enough to send folks running.  Me? I find it soothing....and I am learning...something my kids keep encouraging.

Snow White...Pear Blossoms!

   For the past month, we have had just about every "false" spring that could be dumped on a place.  We have even had a few "false" summer days added for good measure.  Now, however, Mother Nature has said "Enough of that!" and plans for us to have a winter weekend.  This is not good!  All of the citrus trees already have tiny fruits set and the pear and plum trees are in full bloom!  What are you thinking, Mother Nature??  I guess tomorrow will find me lugging those potted house plants back into the greenhouse and finding enough things to make temporary covers for the tomato, squash and pepper plants in the garden.  Yep, I did do that.  I planted far too early but the temperatures being in the 80s convinced me that our cold times were over.  Not so.

  So...winter is not over until Mother Nature makes up her mind and there is not a thing we can do about it other than accept it.  Mom always warned Pop about planting too early..."You know we are going to get that Easter freeze..." I can hear her now reprimanding me for the same thing.  I am far too like Pop and the older I get, the more that is evident.   Easter freeze???  Does that mean that this is not our last cold spell for the season?  Easter is still weeks away!

Tree Candles

   As a kid, I often overheard Mom saying that the pine trees were decorated with their candles.  When I first heard this, I began to get excited, even though, I knew it was springtime.  To me, decorating any sort of tree meant Christmas and I had seen the candles that used to be used on Christmas trees "back in the day"...so putting two and two together, I came up with the wrong answer.  It was not Christmas and Mom was not referring to wax candles to be lit on the tree. Crazy talk...but she was not wrong...I was wrong.  She was referring to the new growth shoots on the pine trees in the woods. The new growth on pine trees does indeed resemble the Christmas Tree candles of long ago and...get this...those new shoots are called candles!

  Here is a tidbit of information about those "candles" for anyone who wishes to have a small, well maintained pine tree in the garden.  Once those candles appear, it is time to do some trimming which is actually called "candling" in the gardening world.  Usually, the new shoots can be broken by hand or using just hand snips.  Trimming back these shoots will encourage thicker branches and, also, inhibit rampant growth overall...at least, so say the experts.  I have never tried it as I do not have space in my gardens for a squatty pine tree.  In fact, I wish the few tall ones that are near the house were gone altogether.  Pine trees and hurricanes do not play nicely and the trees usually wind up snapped.  

  While I have no plans to go out breaking the candles from the tops of pine trees, the sight of them brings back some fond memories of taking walks in the woods with Mom.  Pop taught me most of what I know about planting but it was Mom who taught me the sweet names and some folklore about things found in the woods.  I sure miss Mom and Pop.  As I age, that missing becomes stronger and stronger.  I miss their knowledge, their strict rules and, mostly, their kind ways. Very few people are like that nowadays.  Anyway...look at the pine trees!  They are decorated with candles just about now and it is not even Christmas yet!

Quirky Sayings and Floral Walls

   Mom used to have some funny little sayings that would fit perfectly for the moment.  I think this is something she must have picked up from her mother since my grandmother did the same thing.  Now, I think it is starting to flare up in me.  As I age, I find myself doing much the same thing even to the point of using their phrases.  What I thought was comical when I was a teen now has become logical.  Weird how our brains work.

  Today, I found myself explaining to Son that I was feeling "do-less".  For those who do not understand, this is when you do not particularly feel bad...you just feel sort of blah...hence, do-less.  My great idea of cutting grass and grinding mulch did not happen.  Instead, I was a typical "little old lady" and puttered around not doing much of anything.  At one point, I was merely wandering aimlessly through the Small Gardens.  It was then that the fence row of jasmine made me think that it would be grand if all walls were built so.  Walls and fences should all smell so delightful and look so pleasant.  Maybe then, people would drop their anger before entering and just enjoy their surroundings.  This old world has become so filled with hate and anger that something needs to be done...and quickly.  Perhaps...build a wall...build a wall or series of walls so people can wander aimlessly just enjoying life.  Not to be hemmed in or blocked out but to invoke curiosity as to what is around the next bend and to ply the senses with wonderful aromas and sights.  Just a thought.  Me?  I became inspired.  I shall build more floral walls.  At least, then, I shall have tranquility.

Too Much Like Pop

  The drear has returned.  The morning started with heavy clouds and a light drizzly rain.  It was just enough to make hiking miserable so instead of my usual rounds, I headed to the greenhouse.  I had to tidy that up a bit so I could find a place for the few trays of tiny tomato and pepper plants.  I made the mistake of planting early.  Mom always warned Pop of the "Easter freeze" but he never listened either.  Growing up on the farm it was not uncommon to see us scrambling to cover the new plants in the field.  I should have learned.  At least, I have the greenhouse with 24 tomatoes and just as many peppers whereas Pop had hundreds of each set in the fields.

  This morning, the sunrise didn't happen and all I could find of interest was a lone mottled duck sitting on the pier.  This confused me a bit because these usually are in pairs.  It made me wonder if the female was already laying eggs somewhere nearby.  Perhaps the ducks were not prepared for the "Easter freeze" either.  They were probably just as confused by the 80 degree days lately.  Time for spring!

  Hopefully, this cold spell will not hurt the fruit trees that are in full bloom nor the spring flowers that are shooting out buds.  Also, hopefully, this IS our "Easter freeze" and there will not be another come next month.  For that...we shall have to wait and see and, for that...I may be scrambling to cover plants in the garden and not just moving trays of seedlings.  I will never learn.  I am too much like Pop.

Forward Thinking Azaleas!

   Just about a week ago, the temperatures overnight took a nosedive to freezing.  While that may seem like a trivial thing to folks in other parts of the nation, here it is a BIG thing.  We don't do cold.  Well, we do but it rarely comes so we are pretty much unprepared.  Throw a tropical storm at us...we are good.  Throw a hurricane at us...we prepare but we are good.  Throw freezing weather at us...we are not the best.  No one down here in the Deep South are not sure if we should bring in the plants, wrap the pipes and hunker down with the pets or wrap the pets, bring in the pipes and hunker down with the plants.  So...we usually don't do much of anything and hope for the best.  I did pull Bat, the cat, up on the bed with me for extra warmth but those other things were pretty much left to fend for themselves.  Luckily, we still have water with no busted pipes but the plants look a little worse for wear.  Meh...they will be fine in a few days...I hope.

  To go even further with this, our plants do not even know how to react.  We have had two days of sunshine and warm temperatures and, lo and behold, the azaleas have decided it was time to bloom.  Imagine my surprise as I was gathering what my granddaughter calls "firesticks" (twigs for the fireplace), to find several of the azaleas with blooms.  Granted, these were tucked beneath the thick leaves or nestled near the ground covered with leaf litter but they were blooming!  I had to smile as I thought of how Mother Nature was trying her best to brighten my day after the past few gloomy weeks.  Ahh, she knew what I needed!  

  Now that I have spied the blooms, thoughts of starting seeds for the spring gardens are whirling about in the head.  I am definitely my father's daughter as he would have been doing the same.  "We have to build the hotbed tomorrow.  It is time to start the tomatoes, peppers and eggplants." he would say only to hear Mom say "It is too early!  What about that Easter freeze?"  The conversation between Pop and Mom would continue but he would inevitably build that hotbed and sow the seeds....and inevitably, two months later, that Easter freeze would see us scrambling to cover the plants that were already set out in the fields.  Mom would just smile that all knowing smile...

  Easter freeze or not, I am thinking some seeds will be started this week.  I do have the makeshift greenhouse where I can tuck them if need be but I agree with Pop.  Some cold weather makes for hardy plants!  It is early but I am so ready.  Spring?  Nah, just some "forward thinking" azaleas! 

Hunting for Bright Spots

   It has been a sort of mopey week for me.  Mark has been sick with a particularly rough cold, the week started with nasty weather and the grandkids were not able to be here for Christmas yet again.  Today, the decorations came down and are stowed away for another year.  This is so unlike me as I usually love the holidays and all the trappings that go along with them.  But....it is done.  Things around the Little Bayou House look "back to normal" and I can now go about my days without fretting over lights going out on the tree or pine cones bouncing off the stairway garland.  

  Slipping out the back door, I eased my way around to the Frog Pond.  The citrus trees are almost bare of their fruit now and the leaves have dropped from the peach and plum trees.  Well, this looks a mite drab! I was thinking I should just head back indoors but, then, I spied the small white blooms of the Paperwhite Narcissus.  Each and every time I see the plants in bloom, I think of Mom. She loved the blooms and would often pick a nice bouquet for the table.  While I think they are pretty, I prefer to leave them outdoors.  Mom loved the scent.  I find it....umm....well, not to my liking.   

  Not only did Mom like the blooms for their scent, she claimed that they were a sign that winter would not last forever.  I suppose?  But, to be honest, I really would like some "winter".  When it is Christmas week and the ACs are running full blast, it makes me wonder if the Paperwhites are a wee bit confused.  

  Finding the Paperwhites in bloom did lift my spirits even if only for a few moments.  They brought a flood of happy memories of my childhood and being with Mom.  Goodness, I miss those days.  Life was so much easier.  

The Learning Clock

  For over sixty years, a tiny carriage clock sat in the china cabinet being silent.  Nary a tick could be forced from the antique clock.  The little brass clock was "old" when Mom came to possess it (meaning we had no idea the age...just old).  Mom always wished it would be repaired but never had the money to pay a professional clocksmith to look at it.  Several kinfolks did attempt to get the clock working but to no avail.  The clock sat idle.  Occasionally, Mom would take the clock out of the cabinet, look at it longingly and, then, return it to the shelf.  

  Late in life, Mom gifted the little clock to me because, like her, I would keep the clock safe with hopes that it would eventually keep time.  Well, that was some 20 years ago and the clock was nothing more than a paperweight.  I was too intimidated to open it up and look at its innards.  Then, this clock repair craze hit me.  My kids were after me to "learn something new" to help the old brain stay active.  I was at a loss as to what to learn but I sure knew that math was out of the question!  "I want to learn clock repair!"  I had no idea where that came from but it spilled out of the mouth so here we are.  I am learning antique clock repair.  Over the past year, I have purchased over a dozen antique clocks that were in disrepair.  Most of these only needed cleaning and oiling which was a good way to start.  (Word of advice...never jump into a major thing...take baby steps.)  Now I was ready to attempt an actual repair job.  I eyed the little carriage clock.  I will be the first to admit that I was a tad nervous.  "What if I totally broke Mom's clock?"  Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

  Since the clock had been fiddled with by others, there were scratches and dents where scratches and dents did not need to be.  I opened the back and sat looking at the inner workings.  None of my other clocks looked like this.  So...big step into the unknown!  I tinkered!  It was then that I realized that the clock was not staying wound.  Ha!  That little doomaflatchy right there was the problem. (Yeah, I still do not know the name of the part.  Working on that.)  Since there was a screw holding the little thing in place, it should be a simple fix...only my screwdriver was too fat.  At that very moment, Son walked into the room.  Aha!  "Hey, I need a very, very flat screwdriver!"  He soon came back with a set and proceeded to loosen the screw for me.  (Arthritic hands need help now and again.) "So, it is loose.  What do you want me to do with it?"  I positioned the tiny part and told him to tighten the screw again.  

  After a good cleaning, oiling and winding, the clock is now in working order!  Why did the others not see that easy fix?  I have no idea but I am now one happy camper.  I am sure Mom is smiling at her little carriage clock.   Sometimes, it pays to hang onto things that are broken.   This one was a learning tool.

"Do-less"

   Mom used to say "My get up and go, got up and went."  She used this term often when she was worn out from the day's work or if she just had "one of those days" where she felt lackadaisical. Another term she would use is "do less" as in,  "I feel so do-less." The term can quite literally be applied to the way I feel lately.  Even though, I love the holidays, I have no inclination to have it come, yet.  It seems as if the holidays "came early" this year.  I am not ready.  Nary a gift has been purchased.  Until today, nary a room has been decorated.  Also, nary a Christmas carol can be heard playing in the Little Bayou House.  I am the Grinch and Scrooge all rolled up in one.  Granted, it has been hard to get in the Christmas Spirit ever since the kids grew up and left the place.  It seems lonely.  What's the use in all the hullabaloo if no one is here to enjoy it.  

  As I said, until today, nary a decoration adorned the place.  I did kick myself in gear (somewhat) and "undecorated" the china cabinets.  It was time since Halloween was still residing there!  After removing the fall-themed items, a decision had to be made of what was to be displayed.  As I was puttering through stuff, I found some odd Christmas-themed plates and knew where I was going!  I love these plates!  There is not enough to call it a set and, in fact, there are two different types.  They are, however, by the same artist, Susan Winget. The work is unique and quirky enough to look right at home in the Little Bayou House!  Both of the types that I have are of a discontinued design and are considered "vintage" (not old...vintage).  I found these in thrift stores on occasion and decided to purchase any that I find.  I love them!  I could easily put out my few dishes and call it quits.  They would suffice as decorations.

  I am sure as I go along, the decorating will get easier and the Christmas Spirit will suddenly surface but at the moment, I am fully satisfied with a few happy dishes in the cabinet.  Perhaps tomorrow will find me decorating the entire Little Bayou House...I can only hope.  For now, however, my get up and go, got up and went.  

Much More Than Just Pickles

  This morning bright and early, Son and I were slicing up a bunch of vegetables.  It was pickle making day!  These were not ordinary pickles, however.  While the actual recipe was a bit unusual as these were squash pickles that are more of a mixed relish, the pickles are extraordinary in the fact that they are pretty much a bunch of good memories.  Yeah, confusing...yeah, happy.  You see, Mom made the first batch of squash pickles that I had ever tasted.  I thought that there could be no better condiment on the face of the earth.  After that first taste, Mom and I spent many hours of quality time slicing veggies to make our new favorite.  Memories were made.

  That tradition continued with my own kids.  Two out of the three say these are their favorites.  Son does not eat any type condiment so pickles of any kind are a no go.  But memories are being made because he helps me with the creation of the pickles for the other two.  My oldest son insists these are the "best ever" and Darling Daughter feels nigh on the same.  When they are back at the Little Bayou House during spring, they pounce on the opportunity to make (and eat) these delectable treats.  Today, Son and I talked and laughed as we sliced.  Not only did we talk about pickles but just about everything else under the sun.  (It takes a good while to slice up nigh on a half bushel of veggies!) 

  Now that the jars are filled and sealed, our task for the day is finished.  Those squash pickles will be eaten over the next few months but the time spent together will last a lifetime. Son commented "Grandma sure knew what she was doing when she got us all together to do things."....and she did.  She understood that it is times like this that last forever.  Smiles and pickles somehow just go together.

Miniature Wonders!

  There is an amazingly beautiful world beneath our feet.  Gardening and hiking both can bring us closer to that incredible place...the "Land of Miniature".  This is a place where things often go unnoticed because we are too busy with what is far easier to see...the large, flashy world at eye level.  It only takes a moment, however, to discover and fall in love with the wee things that are trod upon during our day to day meanderings. 

  A few days back, the garden beckoned and I heeded the call.  There were some twenty or so tomato plants that were in dire need of a larger growing spot than the tiny seeding pots.  The shovel was put into action as I spaded up yet another garden plot.  While doing this, I could not help but "go around" a few of the tiny weeds that had sprung up recently.  I am sure Pop would have thought I was daft for leaving weeds where tomatoes should grow but Mom would have been tickled pink.  The "weeds" were what Mom called Little Blue Eyes and they always held a special spot with her.  She had told me several times that when she was a wee child, she was allowed to pick those "flowers" but not the ones in the gardens.  She was even given a tiny vase just for her special flowers.  Later, I picked the wee things for Mom.  She used the same tiny vase to hold them on the kitchen windowsill.  My kids did the same for me.  As moms, we never grew tired of receiving bouquets of weeds.

  I am sure that eventually, the Blue-eyed Grass Flowers will fall to the hoe but, for now, they shall stay in between the tomato plants.  Hopefully, they will go to seed and scatter themselves willy-nilly throughout the garden.  I am good with a few "wildflowers" here and there amongst the veggies.  They make life interesting.  I do not fit in with the well-organized folks who have to have everything perfect.  A little bit wild and wonderful is more my style!  Grow, little flowers!  Be happy!

Pretty, Pretty Narcissus!

  As I was out and about this morning, a strange scent caught my attention.  Since there was a slight easterly breeze, I followed the wafting aroma to find that the Paperwhite Narcissus were blooming.  My thoughts immediately flowed to Mom and her love for these blossoms.  She always stated that they were a sign that winter would not last forever.  Well, in this case, winter has not even really showed its face so the blossoms are early.  They seem to be a bit confused by our summer-like weather.  While it is true that the blooms represent a "new birth" and "purity" with their snow white petals and easy to sprout bulbs, there is a far deeper legend that hides with the plant.

  It seems that the name Narcissus comes from the Greek word for narcotic.  It refers to the almost "addictive" (not really but ok) scent of the blossoms.  It is also tied to a mythical young man by the same name.  It seems that Narcissus was so very handsome that he could not help admiring his beauty whenever he had the chance.  He would venture down to the lake to peer into the glassy waters where he eventually fell in love with his very own reflection.  Then, he literally fell into the lake and drowned.  (hmm?)  Immediately, the Paperwhite Narcissus plants popped out of the ground and bloomed.  Alrighty, then.  This legend is how we came to use the word narcissistic when referring to someone who is self-obsessed.  

  All of this deal with Narcissus made me giggle when I saw an add for Paperwhite Narcissus this evening.  "Great gift!" was how they touted the plant.  While I would be more than happy to receive another plant, one has to wonder about the meaning behind such a gift.  Is the plant given as a reminder of a new beginning or is there an ulterior motive saying "Hey, you are an egoist and need to change before it is too late"?  I, personally, like the flowers simply because they usually bloom when nothing else in the gardens are and because Mom liked them.  

  ~Did you know that there is a difference between an egoist and an egotist?  Yep, both define characteristics that are similar but there is a big difference.  An egotist is self absorbed but feels superior to others in some way.  An egoist simply is preoccupied with his (her) self but does not necessarily feel above others.  Now, aren't you glad I cleared up that for you?

Good For Something

  Granddad always used to tell me that I needed to make myself useful.  Each and everyday, I was to find something to do so I would be "good for something".  I think it was more of a way to keep me busy and out of the way but I searched hard to find that bit of usefulness each day.  Being the youngest of five siblings, it seemed that I was more "in the way" than "good for anything".  But, I tried.  I fed the cats.  They seemed to appreciate the extra food and soon became fat and lazy!  That lasted until Pop told me that the cats were not doing their jobs of keeping the rats and mice out of the barns.  I moved on to watering the porch plants.  Carrying that water from the kitchen to the porch was a hard job for a 4 year old but I kept at it!  At least I did until Mom told me that I was making a mess by leaving a trail of splashed water.  Next, I thought perhaps I could help gather the eggs from the hen house.  That did not last long as the hens were not appreciative of a toddler stealing their eggs.  (Chicken pecks hurt!)  I tried my hand at weeding the rows in the field but soon found that I could not tell a bean plant from a weed.  Thus ended that chore. My usefulness seemed to be a hard thing to find.  Eventually, things all fell into order and I was assigned jobs on the farm that fit my age.  The chores included picking ripe fruit, hand washing the fresh eggs and packing them in boxes for sale, arranging fruit and vegetables on the market table and feeding the chickens. (They were not so apt to peck when they saw corn being scattered on the ground!) I felt good about myself as I was now "good for something".

  All of these memories came flooding back this morning as I observed an item being "good for something".  Years ago, Hurricane Katrina "donated" many items to us via the flood waters.  One was a duck decoy.  Where this thing came from was beyond me but since I had it, I might as well use it.  The plastic duck was tossed into the Frog Pond and there it has resided since.  It was not my intention to coax live ducks into the little pond but use the thing as a decoration of sorts.  Today, however, I noticed that the duck being used.  The frogs in the pond have decided that the decoy was a good perching place.  Two fine frogs were sitting atop of the floating duck!  While this looked humorous, it made me think that, at least, that old duck was not a waste.  It was good for something!  A bit of satisfaction was achieved! 

Time to Disconnect to Reconnect

  It was a "stay inside and make jam" sort of day.  While rain poured outside, I chopped plums. The plums that were picked a few days ago to prevent the raccoons from stealing them had ripened to the perfect point for this undertaking.  They were red enough to give the jam a beautiful color but not too ripe as to not add pectin.  Son came into the kitchen and immediately picked up a knife to help.  (This fellow can make jam with the best of them!  As matter of fact, all three of my grown kids know the fine art of home canning!) I was fully appreciative as there were two large baskets of plums that, when chopped, amounted to over a gallon!  As we chopped, we talked.  He made mention of the fact that some of the best conversations are held in the kitchen whether at the table during mealtime or while preparing food for canning.  It was then that he reminisced of times spent with "Grandma" (my mom).  "We did things.  It was not that she babysat.  Grandma taught us stuff...useful stuff...but we did not realize that we were learning.  The same with Papa (my Pop)...he taught us stuff but we thought we were having fun."  I had to agree with him.  Time spent with them was well spent.  Later, when he was stirring the jam, he started talking again about Papa and Grandma.  "I learned a lot of patience from them.  It is like they had time to really listen." he said.  Again, I had to agree.  Yep.  Both were patient and kind.  They took the time to teach and encourage their grandkids not scold and berate them.   They did have time.  Why?  Because they were not distracted by technology and "time-saving" devices.  Truth be told, folks back in the day accomplished far more each day than any of us nowadays does.  

   

  During the jam making session, Son and I covered a lot of territory that lay hidden in the backs of our minds.  We talked.  That in itself is something rare these days.  With all of the interruptions via technology, there is very little actual communicating happening.  Perhaps Son is right.  The best place to have a conversation is at the kitchen table.  It made me long for the days before cell phones and laptops...before technology came to possess our very minds...before we became addicted to social media.  It is time to disconnect, folks.  It is time to get back to actually communicating.  Perhaps, it is time for folks to get back to making homemade jam, snapping green beans and just spending time with each other instead of being glued to a screen.  It is time to disconnect to reconnect.

Time Users

  It seems that with technology that is supposed to save us oodles of time, there is actually less accomplished.  Back when things were "simpler", folks got things done.  Believe it or not, people actually did things!  Now with everything at our fingertips, we are pushed to the limit to find enough hours in the day to do what we need to do.  I do blame technology.  It rots the mind.  At least, it rots mine.  A while back, Darling Daughter introduced me to a thing called "Pinterest"!  It is amazing!  You can find anything there!  Pinterest is a social media application that allows you to find almost anything, save the idea (pinning) AND supposedly use that information.  Sadly, most folks have become "pinners" and not doers.  Hours upon hours are idled away staring at what other folks are doing.  We are inspired!  We have high hopes!  We never "get around to it" so the fantastic ideas are "pinned" and ogled but never achieved.  Like I said, the site is absolutely fantastic and I do not blame the creators of the site for our lackadaisical attitudes.  We mean well but, by the time our brains are filled with great ideas, we are all too exhausted to carry out any of them.  If you have been living in another world and have not heard of Pinterest, you really should check it out.  It is wonderful but do not expect to ever have enough time.  

  This week, I have been doing another purge of items that are no longer used.  Two large envelopes of paper clippings were dragged to the table to be sorted.  Perhaps I should have just junked the things without opening but these were Mom's and Aunt Marie's recipes!  It felt like sacrilege to toss them without at least looking at them first.  Not only did the envelopes contain recipes but there were a bunch of "idea" clippings in there, as well. Crochet patterns, home decor information, gardening hints and a lot of interesting tidbits such as poems, sayings and pictures.  These were all cut from newspapers or magazines and tucked away for safe keeping.  These were the "Pinterest" of an earlier generation!

  The whole point I am trying to make is that hours spent on "time-saving" technology has left us with little time to actually do things.  With earlier generations, they saved the ideas (recipes, patterns, etc) but these were actually used.  It is quite evident by the condition of each slip of paper, each pamphlet, each newspaper clipping that they were viewed often.  Many had added instructions handwritten in the margins such as "add more vanilla" or remarks across the top if the recipe was "very tasty".  

  To be honest, I could not discard all of the items in the two envelopes.  If there were duplicates or tattered pieces, I tossed.  The others were put in the kitchen to use.  Some of the recipes brought back memories and others sounded too good not to try.  As I sat sorting the papers, I thought of Mom and Aunt Marie and their reaction to the whole idea of using the computer to find a good recipe.  That thought was rather amusing.  Oh, how times have changed....and some of it is not for the better.  Now, excuse me.  I have to search Pinterest for a pirate costume pattern!

Through the Mist

  Years and years ago, I was often allowed to spend the night with my grandmother.  While this was probably more of a way to give Mom a break from an active youngster, I felt it was a special treat.  Being the youngest of five kids, I often felt left out of the "big kids" doings so I found this little outing quite exciting.  My scheduled sleepovers usually coincided with some movie that was being shown on TV.  This, too, was exciting as back on the farm, we had no TV.   It was on one of these sleepovers that I first experienced the musical "Brigadoon".  I was hooked from that moment which led to me being invited each time the movie was shown.  It became a ritual for Grandmother to put on the tea kettle, pull out the "fine" teacups and fix a plate of cookies to be enjoyed during our viewing.  This tradition carried on until I was a teenager and then my heart was broken by the passing of the dear lady.  I could not bring myself to even think of watching the movie for years and years.  Then, at some point, Mom asked me to watch it with her and, once again, the movie entranced me.  Later, my kids and I never missed a showing of the musical but, instead of milk tea and cookies, the kids wanted more "exciting" foodstuffs.  Sometimes we roasted hot dogs in the fireplace while other times, we had an indoor picnic.  The decision was theirs and, more oft than not, their grandmother (Mom) would join us for the fun.  I miss those days.  I cannot say that any current day movie has ever affected me as much as this one did.  Then again, I cannot say that any current day movies can possibly been deemed classics either.  

  This morning, memories of Brigadoon, the mystical city that appears of the mist every one hundred years, came back to me.  The time spent with Grandmother, Mom and my kids nearly brought tears to my eyes.   These memories were all due a heavy fog that had laid in overnight.  The thick mist blocked from view most of the other side of the Bay.  Only one small portion of what laid on the opposite shore could be seen and that vision was short lived.  The fog slowly blocked out the entire city.  The mystical, magical Brigadoon (in this case, Keesler Air Base) slipped from sight for the next one hundred years (or at least an hour).

  One of the best parts of living on the Bayou is that you never know what the new day will bring.  Things change with the drop of a hat and surprises abound.  Each day also brings with it the opportunity to reflect back on things from years ago.  The quietness allows the brain to wander where it may thus making each day, each memory worth a visit.  

Yaupon Berries and Memories

  While most of the country is enjoying the seasonal change with cooler weather and lots of fall foliage, here, we are just happy with the occasional northerly breeze.  That surely means fall is in the air!  In the Deep South, it is rare to get much of a colorful foliage change.  Things stay green.  The weather does not play well and our leaf change usually occurs during winter if at all.  That does not mean we do not have some bits here and there but rather that we have to search for it.  

  This afternoon, the old dog and I took a leisurely stroll about the hillside.  His walking goes along at a snail's pace so it gives me plenty of time to look at things.  Once I find something interesting, Mr. PJ is just as happy to sit for a spell as I photograph it.  This afternoon's find was the bright red berries of the yaupon.  These medium sized shrubs dot the marsh, woods and even the yard as I let them grow where they may.  I am not meticulous about how organized the yard is, so if something chooses to sprout up and it is pretty, it stays.  Simple as that.  I do think the yaupons are pretty.  This time of year, the berries turn bright red.  They stay this way until midwinter when the cedar waxwings come flying in to search for food.  Then the small trees are stripped of every berry.  This gives the migrating birds some much needed nutrition but takes away from my yard decorations!  My sights then turn from admiring the berries to admiring the birds that have come to feed.  

  Seeing the yaupon berries, this afternoon, brought a childhood memory to mind. Back in the day, Pop used to cut many branches of the yaupon berries to use for decorations.  Mom would put the long stalks in two large buckets filled with water.  These would flank the doorway on the screened porch.  Other branches would adorn the mantles for Thanksgiving and carry over into the Christmas season.  Occasionally, the berries would start to drop so Pop would simply cut more.  We used the yaupon berries far more often than holly.  The holly was saved to fill the bronze vases out at the cemetery.  When I was just a tyke, I would go with Pop to honor the folks who had passed so many years before. The grave sites of family members, longtime friends and even some forgotten folks were bedecked with the holly berries and cedar branches each holiday season.  I often wonder if the grave sites have been adorned since Pop passed.  I know I have neglected them...sad to say.  It seems as if that custom, too, has gone the wayside.

Flour Sacks, Morning Glories and Self Esteem

  Yesterday, I found the ditch daisies in the marsh and they brought a lot of memories from my childhood and particularly of my granddad.  His gardening lessons were peppered with lots of moral lessons which I carry with me to this day.  While Pop was actually a better gardener (farmer), Granddad had more time to spend with an inquisitive youngster.  My experience gardening with Pop dealt more with learning weeds from "good" plants, which type of fertilizer to use and when to plant the seeds by the phase of the moon.  All were important lessons and all are things I use with my own gardening.  Combined, the two men taught me lots of useful skills,  

  This morning, however, the lesson that was brought to mind was from neither of these fine gentlemen.  A morning glory bloom made me think of Mom.  She was a kind, gentle woman who always wanted everyone to be happy.  She believed that inner beauty far outweighed appearances.  I recall one time being ridiculed at school for wearing a dress made from flour sacks.  Back in the day, flour sacks were gorgeous with lovely designs on them.  The fabric was cotton and was amazingly soft.  Mom would sew my dresses from the fabric after I picked my favorite sack.  While I thought the dresses were beautiful and I was so proud to wear something Mom had sewn, other kids saw my clothing as a thing to be despised.  The clothing did not compare to their fine, store-bought dresses.  Of course, I came home in tears but Mom, in her loving way, proved that the outward appearance was not the person.

  The next morning, to give me an idea of her lesson, she took me out to the fence line where brambles had taken over to create a gnarled mess.  She asked what I saw.  In the midst of the brambles, a lone morning glory was blooming.  I noticed the beautiful blue color and how the sun's rays lit up the center like a light.  My answer was obvious.  I saw the lovely flower and not the briers.  When I answered her question, she smiled.  Yes!  The lovely bloom is what mattered.  Not the tangled mess of vines.  She said she wanted me to think of that morning glory when the others made fun of my dress.  Afterward, she took me inside to show me the newest flour sack  Lo and behold! That sack had lovely blue morning glories on it!  I went off to school and tried to make the best of it. When I got home, my mother gave me a package.  She had sewn a new dress for me....with blue morning glories!  The next morning,  I proudly wore my new flour sack dress and lifted my face high to let my smile shine.  Maybe the other kids snickered at my garb but I could not hear them at all.  My thoughts were on being a beautiful flower.

  This morning in the midst of a jumbled mess of vines and weeds, the sun caught a morning glory's color and made it shine brightly.  I thought of Mom and her lessons of self esteem...and I smiled.  I was happy.  I also wish they still made those lovely printed cotton flour sacks so I could sew something!  Maybe ones with blue morning glories would be nice.