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?!!!

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.

4am Is Calling!

   Folks are constantly questioning why I rise so early in the morning.  My answer is always "I feel better."  That is the honest truth.  My day starts at 4am and, if I linger any longer, my body starts wondering what happened.  "Hey, Woman...why are you not up yet?  Lazybones!"  Then, I guess in an effort to make me rise, aches and pains start setting in and then the brain starts shifting gears from "Let's get it done!" to "I don't wanna."  So, to avoid all of that, I rise early.  This must be a throwback to my childhood on the farm because Pop would rise at 4am and make sure that all the kids were up early to do their chores.  Mom would sleep in a bit while he "handled" things.  Once we heard that old hand-cranked coffee grinder going, we knew it was time to roll out of bed.  I smile every time I see that thing hanging on my wall!  Time to rise and shine!

  Another reason for my early rising is that I can get the indoor chores done before sunrise.  Once that time nears, I head to the pier for some peaceful "me time".  Some of my best thinking is done while watching that giant ball of fire rise up over the pines on the far side of the Bayou.  I get ideas for art/craft projects, figure out how to better the garden spots and ponder on the use of herbal concoctions.  This is the me-time that allows me to start my day in a halfway jovial manner instead of letting the worries of the world pile upon me.  Pop always told me that fretting doesn't do one bit of good so I should let go of it and just go about finding a solution to any problem.  Make sense and those early mornings give me time to hunt solutions.  Not to mention, there are some mighty pretty sights out there on the water when that sun makes its entrance.

The "Feather Tree"

  Growing up on the old farm place, I was introduced to gardening at a very early age.  In those days, it was not "child abuse" to have tots as young as 3 years of age doing chores.  Not a one of us ever thought that it was a bad thing to help out about the place.  We were expected to do our share and we did it without grumbling.  These chores instilled a strong work ethic in us.  To this very day, I still get up at 4am, do my household chores before dawn then head out to the gardens.  On the farm, we had working fields but Pop also enjoyed keeping a beautiful yard full of flowers.  I try to do the same.

  In the Small Gardens here, I have many plants (from tiny jonquils to large trees that came from the old place.  One of Mark's favorites is what he calls the "Feather Tree".  This is a deutzia that I started from a cutting.  Pop had the shrub on the edge of the circle driveway so it was only natural that I took cuttings when I moved to the Bayou.  The shrub is in full bloom right now and I have to agree with Mark.  Its snow-white blooms do look feathery!  

  Since I am remaking the pathways that Hurricane Zeta demolished, it is my intention to start more cuttings of the deutzia along with roses, dogwoods and azaleas.  Lining the pathways with blooming shrubs will provide glorious color to my hikes.  The Feather Trees will have to have a special place in the sunshine so their blooms will spotlighted!

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!

Plants Have A Lot To Say

   Currently, the Small Gardens are overgrown, weedy and seemingly happy.  Each morning brings a new surprise in the way of blooms, fruit or vegetables.  It just goes to show that once we stop dumping chemicals, do not overcut and simply let plants do their own thing, they provide.  Plants are resilient...too bad we are not the same.  

  This morning found some lovely phlox in bloom.  These plants came from two different people.  Pop gave me the first start and I have managed to keep them at least surviving for some 35 years.  Yep, the plants keep coming back year after year from the rootstock.  The newer phlox came from my sweet Grand Princess, Mary Ruth when she was just a tot.  Actually, she brought them to "Uncle Michael" (also known as Son on the blog).  She just "had" to bring him some purple flowers!  He loves them merely for that fact. 

  In a way, the phlox are the perfect gift.  Phlox are said to represent "united hearts and souls".  I was very close to Pop and miss him terribly.  He was the one who taught me the love of gardening and plants, in general.  I am also quite certain Son and Mary Ruth will always maintain a special relationship even though they are so very far apart.  The phlox are fitting and so lovely to find as one wanders through the yard.  That is part of the Magic of the Small Gardens!

Just Fine

   I was wandering about the yard this morning because, well, I did not feel like doing anything else.  It was one of those days that chores seemed to be far too much effort so I went choreless and wandered.  Sometimes wandering is a good thing.  It does not mean you are lost but rather that you just have nowhere else to go at the moment.  So...I wandered.  As I wandered, I breathed in the goodness that only the Bayou can share.  I needed that refreshing air to help clear the mind.

  Wandering also gives one time to ponder things.  This is where my mind goes at times when it wanders!  As I passed through the Small Gardens, many plants caught my eye.  Ahh, the gloriosa lilies, the deutzia bush, the spirea, the fig trees...all from Pop's gardens from so long ago.  Then the hot pink crepe myrtle blooms stood out against the green, leafy background...again, from Pop.  This all got me to pondering.  Why?  Why do I seem to follow just about everything Pop did in gardening?  It looks like with all the newfangled things on the market, I would simply give up the old ways.  Plant new things! Get new tools!  Use new methods!  Nope...I follow what Pop taught me.  Why not?  It seems to be working just fine.  Yep, just fine, indeed.

Could be useful...

   In my old age, I am finding that a lot of times my conversations include the phrase "this could be useful some day".  I am usually rambling off some tidbit of how to make fluffy biscuits or how to cane a chair seat but I also find that I use it a lot when I am in the garden.  Sharing the knowledge of plants is something that I am passing down from Pop and from Granddad.  Both gentlemen were brilliant in their own rights and they tried to instill in me a good bit of the commonsense they had.  Some stuck.  Some flew by the head and was lost in space never to be retrieved.  Still, the wee bit that I did retain surely does come in useful...most days.

  While I scurried out to check the ripeness of the tomatoes, I noticed that dollarweed was taking over a couple of the flower gardens since I have been virtually a no-show in the Small Gardens.  The stuff was doing rather well and was even blooming.  Oh, well.  Years ago, I had given into the fact that my gardens would never be the pristine things of Pop or Grandad.  Dollarweed...also known as pennywort...is probably going to be a permanent resident in the gardens so it may as well reap the benefits of the fertilizer, water and mulch.  

  As I stopped to admire the healthy plants, I had to smile when I realized just how many folks have no clue about this plant.  Most only look for ways to eliminate it from their lovely lawns.  They have little idea that the lowly weed could perhaps save their lives if ever need be.  (That is if it is not contaminated by the overuse of chemicals).  Pennywort is edible.  In fact, in some places it is used almost daily in meals.  Yep, that round leaf thingy is indeed tasty but it also has great potential in healing many ailments.  In view of the fine mess this country is in right now, perhaps people should be studying up on what is around them...which plants are edible...which can be used as medicine...which you should avoid at all costs.  A bit of knowledge could, indeed, be useful some day....most days.  

Where are my blueberries?

   I often wonder what Pop must think of my gardening skills.  He is probably looking down from Heaven and shaking his head at my mishmash of gardens.  I have a grand tendency of plopping plants wherever there is space and letting them grow with wild abandon.  This is a far cry from his orderly gardens back on the farm.  The vegetable fields were for vegetables.  The flower gardens were for flowers.  Each was carefully separated even down to the different type plants.   There was no mixing.  Each had its own space.  There were no tomato plants in the petunia bed.  There were no jasmine vines covering a fence in the squash patch.  There were no gloriosa lilies mixed in with the wisteria which was covering the same fence as a few roses and some more jasmine.  I just figure they can all get along or move along.  If they do not do well, then that is their problem.  So far, this has worked and everything seems happy.  I know I am.

  There is one problem that will have to be remedied this next winter, however.  Near that fencerow that has the conglomeration of vines, there are some blueberry bushes.  Those bushes are now under the vines.  Yep, my blueberry bushes have become arbors for the mingling vines.  It seems as if they will have to be moved a bit further away if I am to ever find the ripe berries amid the blooms of the other plants.  It appears that my method may not be working at its best.  Oh, well.  That is a chore for this winter and there is no use in fretting over it at the moment.

Replenishing the "Sea of Purple"

   For several years in a row, hurricanes and tropical storms battered the Bayou.  The cleanup was hard work but with steady toiling, most would be done before the next round of storms.  It is something we have to deal with if we wish to stay on this land.  I love my little bayou and the surrounding woods enough to endure whatever is thrown at me.  Only once in my entire life of living in the area have I ever had second thoughts about staying in the Little Bayou House and, by that time, it was too late to leave.  Hurricane Katrina was a force to be reckoned with on her terms.  While we were dealt a severe blow, we persevered.  And to those who rode through Hurricane Camille and claimed it was "the storm of the century", Katrina proved just how wrong that judgement was.  It was far worse.  I can say that...I rode through both.  

  One of the downsides of doing hurricane cleanup is that you really do not have the opportunity to fret over what is lost even after the storm.  When plowing through the mountains of debris, it seems highly pointless to worry over a small plant or garden area.  You just want the debris gone.  So, gardens and even wildflowers disappear.  After the latest storms, this bothered me a lot.  I missed the natural look of the place.  So...I headed back to higher ground behind the house and did a bit of scrounging.  There, the plants survived.  I was elated and dug many to refurbish the pathways.

  Of my finds, the woods violets are favorites. I dug several clumps but was careful not to purge the places where they grew naturally.  The plants flourished in their new home and are gracing the place with the beauty of their blooms.  Never have there been so many lovely purple blossoms scattered about the hillside!  This all reminds me so much of the old farm place where Pop had violets growing by the acre.  Between his old shed/workshop and the chicken house, thousands of violets were left to grow to wild abandon.  He kept the place mowed except when he saw the violets starting to bud.  Then, he let them bloom and reseed themselves.  There were so many blooms that this area could actually be seen by cars passing in front of the property.  Many people would stop to ask what was blooming.  Pop was always happy to share information and a few plants.  

  Just yesterday, a sweet friend brought up the memory of Pop and his violets even though he has been gone for some thirty years.  She was a teacher at the local elementary school and took the road past the farm to work every day.  Stephanie said that when the violets bloomed and word got out at the school, a lot of teachers rerouted their trips home so they could view the "Sea of Purple" growing in the backyard of the old farm.  How sweet that she remembered and how sweet that she shared the memory with me.  The thought made the violets blooming on the path so much more precious.  I am glad I was able to replant after the storms.  Hopefully, we will have a few years of calm so the violets can take hold and fill the yard and I can have my own "Sea of Purple".

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! 

Collections...Photographs and Seeds

   One of the perks of wandering about the marshline at the break of day is that I get to see all sorts of wondrous things that most other folks miss.  This brings to mind that old adage "You snooze, you lose!"  While it probably does not amount to a hill of beans to others, it is highly important on my "to do" list.  In about the upper third of that list is "Find, view and photograph everything about the swamps, marshes and waters."  If nothing else, my kids and grandkids will have a photographic assemblage to pilfer through after I am dead and gone.  Not that any of the pictures will be worth a dime but, at least, they will be able to see the wonders of the place through my eyes and before it is fully ruined by "progress".

  This morning's bit of loveliness was a Saltmarsh Morning Glory.  This, like all other morning glories, blooms at dawn then usually withers before noon.  This, unlike most other morning glories, is salt water tolerant which gives it the name.   Here, it flourishes.  The vines trail upwards of ten feet, has arrowhead shaped leaves and five inch blooms.  It does best when allowed to climb wherever it wishes without curtailment.   The blooms are pinkish purple with a deeper color throat.  Bees adore the nectar bearing blooms.

  Finding the Saltmarsh Morning Glories in bloom brought a smile to my face as this is one of the flowers that Pop always used to point out when we would fish along the shores.  Several times, he said he wished he could get a few seeds to plant along the old fish pond in the side yard but we never dared to traipse in the marshes to retrieve any.  Now, I find myself doing just that.  The marsh, albeit full of cottonmouths and gators, is not near so scary as when I was a kid.  My handful of seeds might be a sweet addition to the small gardens.  (Yes, I did go there.)

Think Before Acting

   Back on the farm when I was just a kid, Pop used to give me lots of tips on how to get along in the world.  I sort of got my temperament from him.  Looking at things logically instead of emotionally can take you far.  I still rely on a lot of his teachings just to make it through the day.  One of the things he used to tell me was not to act irrationally in any event.  If something occurs that is startling, "use your head to work it out".  His teachings were not only about monumental things but even small things.  Think about those actions before leaping right into the mire.  Makes sense.

  I was thinking about Pop this morning when an odd-looking critter decided my arm was a good resting spot.  Most folks would have swatted the poor critter and never regretted it.  Me?  Well, I just could not kill the thing simply because it needed a safe place to sit for a moment.  The bug and I eyed each other curiously trying to figure the others reaction to being so near.  It sat and I continued to pick figs.  After about five minutes the fly moved onto a piece of twine that was in the flower bed.  There, it kept watch over me.

  As far as I can remember, Pop used to call these bugs "Robber Flies" or "Assassin Flies".  I am assuming that is the name but cannot be for certain.  I do know that they are incredibly helpful as they pretty much eat other biting insects.  I have had them snatch deer flies and mosquitoes from around my head on dozens of occasions.  Today, I used my head to calmly assess the situation and allow that scary-looking critter to sit in place.  Did I regret my well-thought action?  Nope.  Instead of a reaction that would have killed the critter, I took no action which might save me from being bit by a blood-sucking varmint.  Sometimes, no action is the best reaction.  Thinking helps!

A Little Extra Bird Seed

  Since all of the properties to our west are being clear-cut to make room for more houses, the critters have no place to go.  No one ever thinks of that when they build (or buy) their new houses.  Hundreds of critters are displaced or die.  Many, many are crushed beneath the large tractors that do the clearing and many, many others flee their homes leaving behind their babies.   They have no choice.  It is saddening and I know it is just a matter of time before we, like the critters, are pushed out of our home.  

  Back to the critters, though, as they are what is important, at the moment.  The poor little things have not only lost their homes but have also lost their "hunting grounds".  Even those that we think of as non-predatory are suffering.   My brother and I have taken to putting out extra seed for the birds and table-scraps for whatever will eat them.   For a while, I was bothered that the squirrels would eat the sunflower seeds and chase the birds from the seed bench.  Then I realized that fat, happy squirrels do not raid the peach and plum trees of their fruit!  Fat and happy squirrels are being fed trice daily now!  

  I have come to the same conclusion that Pop did, so many years ago.  If critters raid the gardens, you just have to plant a bit more the next year.  They have to eat, too.  Although Pop often hunted and fished for food, he never once needlessly killed a critter.  The man had a kind heart.  I am glad that I learned from the best!  Help them...don't hate them.

The Name Is Pretty Accurate

   Gloriosa Lilies are something that Pop planted and tended with much care.  He loved the way the plants, although lilies, grew like vines.  They actually will twine around anything given the chance.  In just a matter of moments, the tendrils can latch on and then cling while supporting the tall plants.  After the plants get approximately 4 to 5 ft tall, BAM!, there is an explosion of blooms!  Like Pop, I plant the lilies.  In fact, I got my start from him.

  The lilies are also sometimes called Flame Lilies due to their red, yellow and orange colors.  Each bloom starts as a sort of pale yellow and, as the blooms age, they flip inside out and start a progression from yellow to orange to red.  Honestly, I thought that the name was...meh...ok but did not see the full resemblance until this morning.  

  As usual, I was on the pier before dawn and once I started the trek back up the hillside to the Small Gardens, the beauty of the Flame Lilies hit me.  Wow!  Yep!  They really live up to that name!  With the beams from the rising sun backlighting the lilies, they really resembled fire!  Whoa!  While the sunrise was just so-so, this was extraordinarily breathtaking!  My goodness!

  Now that I have witnessed the "fire" in the Flame Lilies, I am pretty sure that the name will stick.  Too bad most other folks will never see them as I had the opportunity to do this morning.  (Not many folks are traipsing about the place at the crack of dawn.)  

Low Tide, Jasmine and Bayou Scents

   More oft than not, if someone describes the "smells" of a bayou, they have to include the musty, heavy smell of low tide.  It is then that the mud is exposed.  Here, we do not have the sandy beaches or even the hard clay bottoms.  We have mud.  Mud that swallows things completely in a matter of minutes.  To give you an idea about this, when Pop was in his 70s, he was putting an outboard motor on his old, wooden skiff when he slipped.  The outboard motor went into the 2 feet of water and submerged.  Dad never found that motor.  The boat was not 5 feet from shore and the motor still sank to parts unknown.  The muck devoured the thing!  He even took a long pole and gently shoved it into the mud thinking, if he hit something hard, he would know where to search.  The pole was about 10 feet in length and he never hit anything.  Time and time again, he prodded but with no luck. The mud is an entity in its own right.  And, yes, that mud does smell bad to outsiders. We have become so accustomed to the "low-tide smell" that we never notice.

  That does not mean that the Bayou is nothing but stench.  Quite the contrary, my friends.  When in bloom, the place smells heavenly!  This far south, there is always something aromatic in the air.  Right now, it is the Confederate Jasmine.  This vine is one of those plants that was imported from Asia a century ago and has pretty much claimed the area as its own.  The smell of jasmine wafting on the breeze, front screened porches, windows flung open and wooden rocking chairs pretty much adds up to a perfect evening.  

  The jasmine and roses are in full bloom right now, the azaleas with their sweet aroma and citrus trees just waned and the wisteria is setting buds as are the magnolias.  It is practically a merry-go-round of delightful floral scents!  Any of these are enough to make you forget all about our mud!

Volunteer Petunias

   Growing up on the farm, I was always impressed by Pop's sincere love for gardening.  He loved growing things...anything.   The fields were always kept weed-free and plant happy.  Acres and acres of corn, peas, greens (of all sorts), beans, squash, cucumbers, potatoes...you name it, he most likely had it growing somewhere.  As if that was not enough to keep him busy, he raised assorted fruit trees, nut tree and berry vines.  All in all, the man provided enough crops to feed our large family and sell to others.   There were also the farm animals and side businesses that kept him going from dawn to dusk.  The man enjoyed keeping busy.  Still, all of that was not enough.  He had a gorgeous yard full of flower gardens.  It was those flowers that brought him so much joy.

  I was thinking of Pop, today, while out puttering in the gardens.  Memories of helping Pop with the flower gardens came flowing back while I weeded one particular patch.  I have several volunteer old-fashioned petunias that pop up year after year.  I never know where I will find them but I always start looking in March for my lovelies.  Pop always had these in his gardens and I was taught to carefully look while weeding.  Pop taught me the difference between the petunia seedlings and clover.  At one inch in height, they can look mighty similar.  (Keep in mind that I am talking actual clover here and not the oxalis that everyone calls clover.)  It was often my job to weed the gardens since I was small and could maneuver through the plants without damaging them.  I knew that the petunias would soon fill the gardens with all the different shades of purple that I could imagine so I was extremely careful to not pull them by mistake.

  The petunias in my gardens are of those same purples that Pop had.  They haphazardly sprout in the most unusual places so I transplant them inside of the garden borders.  Pop would be proud that I still find joy in gardening and I am sure he is equally proud that petunias and zinnias (two of his favorites) are in my gardens.  Thanks, Pop, for teaching me to how to grow things!

It "Dawned" On Me!

  Pop always told me that if you got up early enough, you would see things that most others never get the opportunity to see.  While that may have been a ploy to get me out of bed and out in the fields at a halfway decent time, it does have a ring of truth to it.  Sleepyheads never get to see the glorious sunrises, the fleeting glimpses of nighttime critters nor the sparkles of sunbeams on dew-laden spiderwebs.  It has gotten to the point that I cannot sleep past about 4am. 

  Some of the most peaceful times are right at daybreak when the birds start to stir about.  They wake up singing praises to the morning and begin their day of survival.  Lately, I have started taking my mug of coffee out into the gardens to commune with the birds.  The rapport is obviously mutual since a good many birds come to greet me each day.  I do set out birdseed but, often, the birds will forego their meal for a few moments to perch within an arm's reach of me.  There, they quietly chirp "hello" before flitting off to the bench holding the sunflower seeds.  Our greetings are short and sweet.  There is something magical about the time spent.

  Watching the sunrise, in the garden or on the pier, has become even more important to me as I age.  It gives me time to reflect on what is important and what I can let go.  I have found that doing exactly what makes me happy is what is important.  Not what others think I should be doing.  Folks, life is too short to fret over others' opinions.  They are entitled to them.  You are entitled to yours.  I am entitled to mine.  Live life the way you feel is best for you.  Try to see all the glorious times in your life whether they are sunrises or not.  Find the peace.