Being All Scientific and Stuff....

   It is my habit of rising at 4am which gives me plenty of time to do a few "inside" household chores before heading outside just before the sun starts to rise above the pines on the far side of the Bayou.  It is during that time that I can do my best "pondering" plus catch a few fish, shrimp or crabs for the noontime meal.  Lately, however, Mark has been overloading us with fish so I have more time to do that thinking.  A couple of days ago, that thinking turned to a full bit of memories and then turned to curiosity as so many of my ponderings do.  I have to check things out to see just how accurate the old memory is.

  The moon was just a tiny, bowl-shaped sliver of silvery white against the dark sky.  I was just admiring the beauty when I heard some of Pop's words rattling around in the memories.  He always used to call this a "dry moon" because that bowl was holding all the rain.  Hmmm...dry moon.  Well, it did seem to hold some truth because we are having a painfully dry couple of weeks.  The garden definitely needs rain.  That was beside the point just now, however, as I was more interested in that dry moon.

  Sure enough, Pop may have been onto something...at least with the name.  According to all I read, this phenomenon happens only a couple of times each year depending on where you live.  It all has to do with the moon's orbit around the earth and the earth's orbit around the sun...AND...the tilt of the earth on its axis.  Yep...scientific stuff going on there.  Anyway, most of the time we see the sliver of the moon in a crescent sort of like a C but when the orbits do their thing and the moon looks like it is heading right down to the horizon, that C becomes more like a U all because of the way the sun illuminates it.  Some folks call it a "wet moon" while other call it a "dry moon" but it is basically for the same reason.  Folklore has it that when the moon is like a bowl, it is holding the rainwater thus giving a dry spell.  So...wet moon or dry moon, that bowlful of water stays put and does the gardens no good.  Folklore can seem confusing when the tales call things opposite names for the same reason.  Still, both agree that the rainy season will come back when the moon (bowl) starts to tilt and the rain spills out and down to earth.  NOW...it makes all the sense in the world...sort of...maybe. 

  Whether any of this holds true scientifically or whether it is purely folklore is yet to be seen but it sure is dry...and Pop said it so it has to be true.  Good enough for me.  So...my ponderance for the day seemed to totally hinge upon memories from so long ago.  Who needs science when you had Pop to teach you these things?!!!

Shade is Good

   Here it is midsummer and the whole country is feeling it.  The weather is no different here.  The heat and humidity make the day almost stifling.  With all this comes the never-ending round of complaints from the very same people who were complaining about the cold six months ago. Pop always said that you cannot change the weather by complaining.  So...why bother?  I figure it is better to just keep busy so I do not dwell on the uncomfortableness of the day...or night. There is no use in letting tempers flare just because of the heat.

  Today. just as the past three days, I cut grass.  That was my way of "beating the heat".  Pushing a lawnmower or swinging the trimmer is indeed hot work but I figure that I may as well have something to show for all that sweat.  At least, the yard looks nice. Cutting grass also gives me time to ponder things.  With an engine running, you cannot talk with others so you have to pull thoughts from the dusty corners of your mind.  Ponderance of the Day?  Why do people cut down all the trees?  To my way of thinking, a yard just looks better with dozens of trees...or in our case...hundreds.  Those trees provide shade and that shade is cooling.  It has been proven that places with lots of trees can be 20 to 40 degrees cooler than those without.  Perhaps we would all be better off by planting trees instead of cutting them.  Be cool! Plant a tree!  Sit in the shade!  Be happy. 

Which Way Is It?

  I often wonder about the logic of things.  Is there always a certain method...a precise order...a definite logic behind everything or are some things pure happenstance?  Yep, being left alone on the Bayou for too long can, indeed, mess with the brain and make one ponder far too many things.  The thoughts come flying out of the dusty corners of the brain and flop together in no certain order or in perfect synchronization.  I do ponder things while out doing chores or wandering the marsh line.  Today's ponderance?  Why do certain things happen when, where and how they do when there is nothing that set them in motion other than serendipity.  (And, on another note...serendipity...is not the best word ever?  Seems to me that we should all live serendipitously!  Love it!)

  What brought this mishmash of thoughts in action was the sight of a lovely jonquil.  This was the first jonquil of the season and brought such happiness.  The thought that spring is here (or, at least, near) is a happy thought for the gardens.  The jonquil bloom, itself, was not that thought provoking but rather where the happy, little blossom decided to bloom made me start pondering.  The yellow flower was in the midst of the cabbage patch.  (Yes, I have cabbage patches this year.  There are no organized rows...only plants here and there.)  Back to our jonquil...did the jonquil grow in the cabbage patch or was it the other way around?  Are the cabbages in the jonquil bed?  Apparently, they get along well and have no problems sharing the little patch of ground.  I did plant the cabbages there but do not recall ever having jonquil bulbs in this spot.  Just happenstance?  Pure serendipity?  Or forgetfulness?  Take your choice.  I shall enjoy my jonquil AND the cabbage!  Life is good when there is no one to tell you that your quirky thoughts are not acceptable. 

The Glorious Light

  I often claim that my predawn time on the end of the pier is my escape.  I can meditate, ready my mind and body for the day's chores and then sit back to enjoy the sunrise.  It is my "me time".  It is the time when the whole world seems at peace.  I enjoy this habit and make no excuses for keeping such odd hours.

  This morning, heavy clouds blocked out most of the sun's attempts of giving one of its glorious performances.  Instead of the kaleidoscopic array of colors, there was dark grey.  Instead of sunbeams shooting across the horizon, there was one momentary "hole" that let the bright rays spill out of the inkiness.  That "hole" was mesmerizing even though fleeting.  It almost appeared to be a doorway to a much more beautiful place than this world could ever offer.  The urge to step through that entryway was tempting the body and soul. 

  Bat (the cat) and I watched the brilliance for the few moments it appeared.  Then...total darkness engulfed us again.  Our chance to "escape" had slipped from reach and now we had to settle in to face the day here.  No problem...he and I started our day with happy ideas bouncing around in our minds...his of exploring the rooftop of the greenhouse and mine of springtime plantings.  Life goes on so we might as well make the best of it.  

Saltwater Frogs? Something is Amiss...

   As a rule, frogs are prone to stay in freshwater.  They prefer to use freshwater ponds and pools when laying their eggs.  As far as I know, there are no frogs locally that prefer saltwater as a home for their tadpoles.  Supposedly, there is one frog in China that can tolerate either salt or fresh but not here.  Until now....

  What is up with the numerous frogs that have taken up residence in the marshes of the  Bayou?  I understand that occasionally a frog may be found there but now hundreds of frogs of all sorts are literally calling the saltmarshes home.  Granted, most of the waters are brackish and not overly salty but still it is unusual.  Over the past few years, I have found leopard frogs, bullfrogs, pickerel frogs and green treefrogs living in the marsh.  This is where they are laying eggs and staying to maturity.  They make no effort to migrate up the hillside to the two small ponds or the creek on the property.  This morning, a small treefrog caught my attention as it was perched on a boat pole.  As I watched it, I realized that there were many more on the marsh mats and pier posts.  There were frogs everywhere!

  The move to the marsh seems strange to me as salt usually dehydrates a frog's skin rather quickly.  Are the frogs adapting to the brackish water out of necessity?  Makes you wonder if the freshwater is not so "fresh" after all.  Perhaps all of the chemicals folks are dumping on their lawns is contaminating the creeks and ponds.  The brackish waters of the bayou are somewhat circulated out with the tidal movements so maybe it is a bit cleaner than we think.  Something is up with those frogs and it does make you think things are just not right.  Just a ponderance there...

Some Things Are Never Explained

   Now that I am regaining the freedom to roam the Bayou and surrounding areas, I had to go back and check the creek bed.  I have missed the magic of the swamp.  The critters, the mosses, the huge palmettos and tangle of vines makes the creek bed an enchanting spot.  One fully expects some mystical creatures to be lurking in the shadows.  A fleeting glimpse of something hastily moving across the sun-dappled ground or the soft whispers of wings in the treetops add to the feeling that you are not alone.  This, my friends, is a favorite spot.  One where the imagination is free to roam where it may and where it is not hindered by the naysayers of the world.

  While I was crossing the small creek, I noticed one moss-covered stump that seemed to be ancient.  A tree had obviously been cut here, at some time.  This, I found strange as not one tree this far in the creek has ever been felled by saws since I came to live on the Bayou.  Plenty have fallen due to hurricanes but no one has ever cut a tree in probably some fifty or sixty years and, yet, the stump remains intact.   I pondered the age of the tree remains and who had felled it.  Years and years ago, Pop had told me of a sawmill business that had been on this land before Grandpa purchased it.  That was nigh on a hundred years ago.  Could this stump have lasted that long?  Surely not but...if not, who had cut the tree?  And why cut one in the creek if not for such a thing as a sawmill?  This will most likely remain as one of the mysteries of the Bayou. For now, however, I will just be pleased with my find of yet another mossy area.