Trying To Make Sense Of It All

   When you sit on the pier at the crack of dawn, it gives you plenty of uninterrupted time to ponder things.  Once again, the eastern sky did not disappoint.  Even though the cloud coverage was scanty (before the storms set in for the day), the beauty was there...so was the peace.  That serenity is the main reason for my early rising.  Today, however, the thoughts were scattered about in turmoil.  Overnight, the alarms on my phone kept erupting like a volcano.  Two murders had occurred and the killer was on the run.  A young lady and the policeman coming to her rescue were both senselessly gunned down.  My brain cannot wrap itself around such violence...such stupidity....such hatred.  What has become of the world?  Where has commonsense gone?  Where has decency gone?  

  As I sat there exhausted from the constant blaring alarms and the heartache of what had occurred, I felt highly grateful for my upbringing.   We were taught right.  We were raised to respect life in all forms.  We were taught to be kind, generous and loving.  We were taught to be hardworking.  If we wanted something, we worked to get it.  Nowadays, it appears that these values are nowhere to be found.  The whole world has gone to pot and the powers that be are doing nil to correct it.  In fact, they seem to be encouraging it.  Sad...very, very sad.  Think I will sit and stare at the sunrise a bit longer.  Too bad I cannot share the tranquility with  the world...but it is probably in too much of a rage to even see it.

Tommy's Sunrise

   It has been a hard few days.  In life, we have to face many things that we wish would not occur.  This has defined the way of life here on the Bayou for a while now.  The hardness culminated on this past Sunday morning.  I got the phone call that no one ever wants to receive.  My brother had ended his struggle.  He was free now but the pain was not over for the rest of us left here on Earth.

  For the past few years, my oldest brother has struggled, suffered and then gave into the horribleness of Alzheimer's Disease.  The first few years were not bad.  He had bouts of memory loss.  He dealt with it admirably.  Then, as the disease progressed, his personality changed from a loving, happy person to one that was fraught with confusion and frustration.  This was when it was becoming clear to him that something was not right but denial set in to the point that he refused help.  Finally, there was nothing left to do but intervene.  He had fought the valiant fight of independence but now had to submit to receiving help.  

  Once intervention came in the way of my other brother stepping in and taking over the caregiving role, things were somewhat better.  Tommy became more relaxed.  He knew he was no longer alone in his battle.  He knew that he would not become a burden on his (very ill) daughter which I think was adding to the war going on in his mind.  While the uncertainty of his day to day life was still there, the final destination was clearer.  There were days of complete oblivion and then days of perfect lucidness at the beginning.  Those clear days were soon to become far and few between.  For the past year, he became more and more dependent upon Jimmy's goodness for simple survival.  We were truly blessed to have Anna step in to aid Jimmy.  She has been a godsend to this family more than once.  

  This past week has seen the decline come with a rapidity that no one expected.  I am so blessed to be next door so I was able to see Tommy on Friday.  He was still able to be guided on short walks outside.  He and Jimmy brought my mail!  Out of the clear blue, he said "I love you." and he, by way of a gentle hand on my back, insisted I tell Jimmy the same.  But, of course!  I am so thankful that our family has always been very verbal about our love for one another but this was touching.  Jimmy whispered to me that those were the only clear words Tommy had said all day.  After they left, I went inside and had a good cry...one of thankfulness.  Later that evening, the disease took a powerful grip and the pull was too much.  Then, within hours, that grip became a strangling hold.  Tommy fought a hard battle with Jimmy and Anna by his side.  In the wee hours of Sunday morning, the disease had won the battle but Tommy had gained the prize.  On Sunday morning, his struggle left had he retained a peace like no other.  He is free.  Our hearts are broken because we can only see our loss. 

  After receiving the heartbreaking phone call from next door, I sought out my peaceful place...the Bayou.  Here, I could release my feelings.  The sun was rising over the pines and sent a glorious array of colors.  While I meandered the marsh line, I marveled at the scene set before me and knew this was a sign.  This was Tommy's Sunrise!  This was the way he looked at things.  New beginnings.  New adventures.  He had pushed so many of his students (as a teacher and coach) to reach their goals and now he had reached his.  This made me praise the morn and awakenings.

  I am asking one thing of my reading audience.  If you find it within your heart, please pray for all patients with dementia of any form.  Alzheimer's Disease is horrible.  It is so wretched on the person and, thus, their caregivers.  Also, I ask for prayers for my beautiful niece (Tommy's daughter) as she faces her own health battles.  She is very precious to me.

  If you have taken the time to read this far into such a dismal post, I thank you and leave you with this bit of advice.  Folks, be kind to all as you never know their inner battles.  Patience, love and kindness are so desperately needed in this day and age.  Offer the helping hand, the shoulder to lean on or simple a gentle smile.  Peace be with you.

Our World Needs Healing

  As garden work demanded, I was out and about early this morning.  With times being what they are, this is now a necessity and not just a hobby.  Desperate times call for desperate measures.  It would not surprise me to see things continue to slide downhill for about a year or so even after the current virus situation is under control.  I figure to get a head start on filling the pantry with canned goods from the garden.  I was also in hopes to fill the freezers with seafood but now that stands iffy.

  Today, the Bonnet Carre Spillway was opened to lower the water levels of the Mississippi River in New Orleans.  While this is great news for those folks, it is devastating to wildlife and even the local seafood industry.  This is getting to be quite troublesome for those of us who depend upon seafood for sustenance or those who depend upon it as their livelihood.  The inundation of fresh water into the Gulf of Mexico creates deadly algae bloom that kills a lot of the sea life. The algae bloom depletes oxygen in the water. Dolphins and sea turtles are the most noticeable but if they are affected, everything below them has already been decimated.  Entire oyster reefs died with last year's opening of the spillway, hundreds of dolphins perished, along with nigh on that many turtles.  Fish and shrimp were hit hard, too, with thousands being found upon the beaches.  Not only were our fishermen dealt a mighty blow but the tourism industry did, as well.  With the beaches being closed due to toxins, there was just not enough draw to vacation here.  Now, it is to be a repeat situation.  Not too many things cause me to get angry but inside, a gnawing anger is brewing.  Our waters are to be tainted once again and there is nothing we can do about it.

  About mid morning, my thoughts were being twisted and turned and fueled by the turmoil of the world.  I headed to my sanctuary...the pier.  There I can find peace as I sit and meditate.  While there, I heard a familiar sound.  Dolphin blows.  Yep.  A pod of dolphins were corralling mullet for their newborn calves to chase.  The little ones could be seen trying to imitate the adults as they surfaced and rolled.  The sight is always thrilling but, this morning, it was also rather saddening.  Will those little ones even have a chance at life?  Will they be able to frolic and play?  Will they even be able to mature to adulthood?  Not if the spillways continue to be opened.  Our world needs healing in so many ways.

It Tried....

  A few years back, we had a very hard freeze for this far south.  Normally, the Deep South's winters are warm and to have a hard freeze for any a length of time is devastating.  This time, the temperatures nosedived to the low teens and stayed that way for 3 days.  It was hard.  Not so much hard for us as we have the two woodburning stoves to keep the Little Bayou House cozy but hard on the critters of the Bayou and on the plants.  Our citrus trees took a beating.  I was ready to call it quits and chop the whole grove out and use the trees as firewood.  The wise words of Son kept me from doing that.  The trees did come back and only a few had major problems.  Our lime trees and lemon trees came back as something between.  They were not limes.  They were not lemons.  We dubbed them "limons".   It fit as the taste was sort of a blend between the two. 

  The trees did well and produced heavily but not nearly so as this year.  This spring, the branches were snow white with blossoms!  Then, the small fruit appeared and the poor trees were overloaded.  Suddenly, every leaf on our limon trees dropped!  The fruit remained but nary a leaf was on the trees.  Finally, the fruit fell to the ground during a high wind.  The limons were knotty, heavily seeded and bitter.  Not a one was worth eating.

  This afternoon as I was out hiking, my path took me through the citrus grove.  The limon trees all have died.  The trees are dried and brittle.  This got me to pondering about all of those inedible fruits.  Obviously, the trees were laboring and knew that it was time to try reproducing.  By making so many seeds, the trees had a chance of at least a few sprouting.  These would replace the dead trees during that circle of life thing.  

  I will miss the limon trees but will take the opportunity to tidy up the grove a bit before replacing the trees.  All of the citrus trees need a good fertilizing and perhaps some pruning.  Now is a good time to get busy.  Son...this time, they've got to go.  There is no "willing" them back to life any more.

Mother Nature Does Not Want Your Sewer Pipes!

  Across the Bayou from the Little Bayou House, "progress" is in the works.  For the past ten years or so, huge houses have been being built.  By huge, I am talking at least four to five times the size of our place.  I have heard tell that most of the homes are being built at a price of over a million dollars.  Hmmm...I sure hope they have good insurance since most are on "shaky" ground meaning, they are built on property that was filled in with red clay to make it meet the standards of hurricane recommendations.  A lot of these are actually on a strip of land that, although was once connected, is now an island.  A hurricane not too long ago ripped a huge swath out of the peninsula and left it inaccessible until a bridge was built.  When Hurricane Katrina hit, there were only a handful of homes on the island and those were hard hit.  Obviously, the codes for building were conveniently "overlooked" causing the houses to be weak.  History has a way of repeating itself so I hope to goodness that the newer ones learned a good lesson from their predecessors.

  While I am all for folks getting their dream homes, I hate that it has to come at a price payable by Mother Nature.  The builders have no regard for the land, water nor critters.  Our nesting pair of Bald Eagles were literally chased from a lot where the latest house is being built.  Their nesting tree was cut down needlessly since it was on the outer skirts of the property and not where the house was to sit.  That made me sad but, happily, the eagles relocated on a vacant piece to our west.  

  Now, with the low tides caused by the north wind, I have found other evidence that these builders have no respect.  Short pieces of large PVC piping have just been tossed into the water.  I pondered from where the pipes coming but the answer was obvious when a tractor pushed a huge mound of trash into the Bay.  Now, the pipes are strewn along our shoreline making it an unsightly mess.  Once the tide allows for the small skiff to be maneuvered, these will be retrieved and disposed of properly.  Also, if the action is repeated, I shall try to be there with my camera to film the dirty deed.  Perhaps with "proof" to the proper authorities, things will be remedied.  My little Bayou is being torn to bits by so many unthinking people.  Saddening...saddening.  Mother Nature does not want your sewer pipes and neither do I.

Saying Goodbye

  The old dog that came to the Bayou for the past few years never made it as a true Bayou Dog.  His predecessor, Ms. Ez, did all the fine things that were expected of a working dog.  She kept the gardens and fruit trees free from squirrels and coons.  She swam out and carried tools to the menfolk as they worked on the pier.  She adopted abandoned baby animals and cared for them.  The old dog did none of those.

  We came to have Mr. PJ only because my son and daughter-in-law had to move to an island far away.  A dog of his breed was not allowed on the island so the old dog came to stay with us.  It was heart wrenching for his family to make that decision but it was for the best since there was no other way.  While here, Mr. PJ adapted to the way of life but never quite made it as a true Bayou Dog.  True, Ms. Ez was a tiny pup when she came so she grew up knowing what was expected.  Mr. PJ only had a short time with us so his lessons were rushed.  

  While Mr. PJ did not chase after the squirrels, he did chase away the gloomy days and any sad thoughts.  He may not have swam out to the end of the pier but he did swim his way into our hearts.  Although he never adopted any babies during his stay, he adopted us...and that...that was far better.  Mr. PJ was not a true Bayou Dog but he was a true and loyal friend that brought a lot of happiness to this family. 

  It saddens me to say that Mr. PJ passed away yesterday morning.  He had been ill for some time but was a fighter and pulled through so many rough times before.  This time was different.  The old dog was tired...really tired.  His body could go no further.  The night before he died, I laid on his bed and held him.  I told him how much I loved him and how much his real family loved and missed him.  He looked at me with big sad eyes, licked my hand and settled down beside me.  I held him as he slept.  In the wee hours of the morning, he left behind his illnesses and gained peace.  I will, indeed, miss Mr. PJ.  I will, indeed.  May you rest in peace, my friend.

Marsh Staring

  I am not sure what is up with the old dog, Mr. PJ.  For the past few months, he has had one ailment after another and has given me reason to believe that his time was near on several occasions.  One time, in particular, was worrisome but after a quick visit to the pet ER, he seemed to rebound a bit.  His health worries trouble me but equally as troubling are some of his moods.  He seems down...sad...lonely even though, both Son and I dote on him daily.  He sleeps next to my bed, hovers next to me while I do chores and gets lots of petting and hugs, yet, somehow, he seems to think something is askew.

  Our hikes have been shortened to slow walks for him to do his business.  Even then, I usually have to help him back to the house.  He does, however, want to linger at one spot each day.  Down by the marsh edge, he sits and stares into the brambles.  I cannot see a thing that is appealing in this tangle of marsh, vines and brush.  He must, however, as he will linger here for a good half hour, if I allow it...and I usually do.  It makes him happy and gives him a short rest before continuing back up the hillside. 

  What is he staring at?  Why this one spot?  What is going through his mind?  Something Son noticed may bring light to the situation.  Maybe memories are here, at least in PJ's mind.  Directly across the Bayou from this spot, there is a new home and the family has small children.  Occasionally, their chattering and laughter can be heard echoing across the marsh.  Perhaps, Mr. PJ is reminiscing about "his" children?  Since I am fostering the old dog for my son, daughter-in-law and grandchildren while they are living on an island far from here, I do believe he misses the children more than anything.  Those voices and giggles may trigger a happy memory and he associates it with this particular spot?  Who knows?  But, if it makes him feel better, then we shall sit and stare into the marsh together.  I'm good with it.

Time to call it quits...

  Well, as much as I loved my little Frog Pond, the time has come to call it quits.  Even though the whole pond was tiny, it was a lot of work.  What started out as a goldfish pond ended up as a home for frogs.  In the beginning, there were some nigh on a foot long goldfish living in the little pool.  Hurricane Katrina came and took the fish to parts unknown when the flood waters overtook the property.  Afterward, I did not have the heart nor energy to restock the pond.  I allowed the frogs to move in and take over.  It was not too bad as their nightly serenades entertained the lot of us and the frogs did their part in keeping the insect pests under control.  Still, there comes a time....

  Today made me realize that I just do not have the stamina to keep up this part of the yard.  It all started at dawn during my morning hike.  I had just returned the old dog to his comfy bed and went out to check the plums.  The plum tree is just beyond the Frog Pond and, as I strolled past the area, a slight movement caught my eye.  Oh, Ms. Nycto!  You startled me!  Yes, Ms. Nycto, the Bayou Princess cat, was lapping up water from the pond.  Then another critter caught my eye.  Just two feet from the cat, snake was silently slithering over the edge of the pond and onto the water lilies.  Uh, oh.  That did not look like a water snake.  Could it be?

  I took a few photos so I could check the snake's identity if it slipped beneath the water.  After the photos, I eased my way to the opposite side of the little pond.  Yep.  There was that snake and it was not a good one to have this close to the Little Bayou House.  The Frog Pond is just beyond the back porch.  It may be a good ten feet from the house, if that.  The snake was none other than a cottonmouth.  While I stood watching, the snake caught one of the little green tree frogs and was attempting to swallow it.  Ms. Nycto hightailed it due to the commotion and upset the snake.   At this point, the snake regurgitated the little frog but I could tell that the wee thing was gravely injured. 

  Ok, so I needed to get that snake out of the pond with as little danger as possible.  First thing I could think to do was drain the pond.  This is done often by means of a small electric pump.  I watched as the snake settled in to catch another frog so I made a quick dash to the shed, grabbed the pump and coil of hose.  The pump was set up and dropped into the pond.  It immediately begin to drain but was far to slow.  At that rate, it would take half the day so there was nothing else to do but help it out a bit.  By this time, the snake was fully aware of my presence and had slipped into a hollow stump near the south edge of the pond.  It watched as I used a five gallon bucket to bail the water.  It took nigh on an hour of bailing to make any headway but soon there was enough slippery sloped sides to keep the snake from an easy getaway.  I woke Son and we proceeded to capture our snaky fiend.

  The capturing process involved the five gallon bucket, a water hose and a potato rake. The bucket was laid on its side at one end of the pond and I used the water hose to direct the moccasin into it.  This was not an easy task as the snake only wanted out of that pond!  But, eventually, the snake complied and slithered into the bucket.  At that exact time, Son slipped the prongs of the potato rake under the handle of the bucket and set it upright!!  Aha!  The serpent was captured!  Another bucket was slipped atop to keep the critter inside.  Now...what to do.  I have this "no-kill" mantra but, in this case, that was not an option.  The snake had already found a ready supply of meals via the thousands of frogs.  I hated it but the snake had to go.  I could not take the chance that it would attempt a return.  The old dog does not see well any more and may step right on the snake.  (He did step on a turtle yesterday!  A turtle..mind you!  How do you step on a turtle?)  So, as much as it sickened me to do it, the snake was killed and tossed where the alligators could dine upon it.  

  All of this saga made me realize that it was high time for the Frog Pond to cease to exist.  The work involved in cleaning it, the upkeep of pumps, filters and liners and the potential threat of a venomous snake taking up residence was just too much for this old lady to handle.  Time to call it quits.  So, very little water was returned to the pond.  There is just enough to allow the tadpoles time to morph into frogs.  After they do their thing, the pond will be completely drained, liner and plants removed and the whole area will be filled with soil.  Grass will soon cover the spot and the pond will be nothing but a memory after twenty some odd years.  Things are changing.

Losing A Piece of My Childhood...

  Now that the Little Bayou House is devoid of all house guests, I decided it was as good of a time as any to sort through all of the Christmas decorations.  Although the things have all been down since two days after the holiday, they still were piled in huge mounds in the kiddos' play room.  With no grandlittles running about the place, it seemed to be an out of the way place to stash the junk...err...decorations until I had time to sort through them.  The packing and storing would be delayed a bit longer as I needed that sorting to be done.  While I am discarding a good many things, the sorting is more of a search for things.  On Christmas Eve, all of the antique stockings were hung on the mantel with care but, when time came to replace the vintage socks back in their nice box, care was thrown out the window.  Or perhaps a few of the stockings were tossed out that proverbial window.  When I finally gathered the stockings, three were missing.  THREE!  Three of the stockings had somehow become misplaced.  I searched the house to no avail and finally resorted to going through the bags of wrapping paper and boxes that were designated as trash. These had been stowed in the shed until we could haul them to the roadside. Thank goodness! Yay!  I found one wadded up with some old paper in a garbage bag.  Now, there were just two missing.  Thinking the trash was all sorted, I returned to the house only to hear Son tell me that he had already taken six bags of the trash to the road....the day after Christmas! Oh, no.  I had a sinking feeling that my stockings had already made their way to the dump.

  Today's search was no help.  Nary an antique stocking was to be found packed in with the decorations.  I know most folks will shrug their shoulders and say that the things were old anyway but that is not how I feel.  These were part of my childhood.  Of the two that are still missing, one was an extra one and the other just happened to be my very own stocking as a child.  It is gone and another piece...another memory cannot be replaced.  I was so happy to have the stockings as most everything from my childhood had burned in the fire that ravaged our first home here on the Bayou.  When Mom handed me the stocking, it was not merely a piece of cloth, it was a tie to my memories of long ago.  At least, I still have my brothers' stockings as they asked if I would keep them all together.  "It is like it used to be." they both said. "It is like when we were all together as a family. Hang the stockings for us."  Now...little sister has no stocking.  It makes me sad.  It also makes me sad that no one really cares.....