Christmas Thought?

   Christmas has come and gone and has taken a part of my heart.  My eldest son, wife and grandkids have gone back to their home in Florida and daughter and son-in-law have made their escape over a couple of towns from here.  Elizabeth and Robbie will be back tomorrow to share New Year's dinner with us but, for now, the place seems to be empty.  I am still not ready to tackle the task of "de-Christmasing" so the decorations shall stay for another week...maybe more unless I get the energy.  

  Christmas decorating at the Little Bayou House is never the same.  Sure, most of the ornaments are used year after year but the manner of decorating can be entirely different.  This year, the living room was outfitted with as much "Victorian" clutter that it could hold while the dining room was nothing less than country/bayou.  Both seemed fitting...both were enjoyed by all who visited so I count it as a success.

  After unleashing the frenzy of gift-opening, a thought occurred to me.  Why do this?  Every year, we stress over what to give, panic over undelivered or late packages and overspend.  Why?  All gifts were received with grace and appreciation but the most oohs and ahhs were expressed over the handmade gifts. My three adult kids handmade a gift for their siblings.  I was fully impressed with their creativity and the excitement, giggles and love proved that those simple gifts were the best!  No, I did not get photos.  I wish I had.  Hopefully, I will do better next year.  Now, I am in "gift-making" mode.  I do believe I shall try to handmake each and every gift for this next Christmas.  

  Perhaps, if I stress this idea enough, each member of the family could jump on the bandwagon and give homemade gifts.  Nothing needs to be overly elaborate nor expensive...just something given from the heart.  Isn't that what Christmas is all about anyway?  Love?  Even though the official "day" has passed...the love and giving should continue.  So....Merry Christmas, folks!  

Lanterns of the Will-o-the-Wisps?

   As I age, things around me have started to look a lot differently than they did before.  Perhaps my eyesight is really on that downhill slide or maybe I am just taking the time to really, really see things. You know, there is a huge difference between looking at things and actually seeing them.  Now, I see things.  I see things as they really are but also how they could possibly be seen from an imaginative view.  Both perspectives are intriguing. 

  This morning as the sunbeams started peeping over the pines on the far side of the Bayou, the flowering heads of the cord grass in the marsh were literally glowing.  The reality side of me knew that this was due to the angle of the sun causing the beams to hit the tufted tops and leaving the lower part of the marsh darkened.  The imaginative side of me saw the lanterns of the Will-o-the Wisps.  Legend has it that these tiny spirits used their lanterns to lure unsuspecting travelers into the bogs.  There the travelers would become mired forever...never to be seen again. Yes, my mind travels in weird patterns.

  All of this does make you wonder if views like this morning's was the basis for many of the folktales that can be found drifting around the bayous.  Sitting on the pier in the darkness of the predawn hours makes you ponder a lot of things.

Meanderings of the Brain

   When wandering through the Small Gardens at daybreak, the beauty of this old world never ceases to enthrall me.  While most would see the flowers or plants, I see things in a different mode.  I see the transparency of the butterfly wings, the soft bends of the petals or winding path that a snail has left behind on its nightly journey.  These things purely astound.

  This morning, the zinnia bed was the object of my interest.  The "old fashioned" zinnias are the best.  They bloom profusely with an assortment of sizes and shapes.  These are not the forced hybrid types of blooms where the natural beauty has been sucked out of existence but rather are the blooms that were originally meant to be.  These are the ones that appeal to me and are the only type flowers that can be found in the Small Gardens.  It is the same with the vegetable plot.  There are no fancy plants that produce things far bigger (yet tasteless) than the old style vegetables that yield deliciousness on demand.  The zinnias were out in dominance of the gardens this morning and they drew not only my attention but that of several butterflies and a myriad of bees.

  I guess as I grow old, I can see the beauty in things that are simple and carefree.  I am simply tired of the demands that we all fit someone else's idea of what is perfect.  Life is too short for that.  Enjoy what is meant to be and not what others deem should be.  Those folks are not the important ones.  Happiness and tranquility lies only in oneself.  Nowhere else.

Shadows on my mind...

   Since winter presents us with a variety of weather here, it is always a good idea to "make hay while the sun shines",  In other words, get busy.  The words chimed through the head in Pop's voice this morning when I first stepped out the door.  He used the phrase more than once when I was a kid back on the farm and it was not always about cutting hay (even though we did our share of that).  The phrase was applicable for anything from farm work to fishing.  Today, I think Pop was probably telling me to get in that garden.  I followed the directive and enjoyed a good day's work in the warm sunshine.

  That same sunshine cast a lot of shadows around the hillside.  On my early morning hike, I was enthralled by how vivid the shadows of palmetto fronds were.  With the usual overcast skies blocking such a sight, it was grand to see.   This all got me to thinking about how we take things for granted.  It is not hard to appreciate the huge, warming sun but how many of us take the time and effort to appreciate shadows?  I do.  Here lately, I am even more thankful for each and every thing that I come across.  Each is a gift and is there for my enjoyment.  

  Actually, shadows have been a huge inspiration to me in my artwork.  It seems that I am entering a phase where shadowy art appeals to me far more than my usual bright and happy pieces.  Perhaps, I am entering an entirely different phase of life and not just art.  Shadowy art, dark pathways, dusty, dark rooms all have an appeal to me.  It is as if something there is hidden.  Something lures me to investigate.  I NEED to find what is concealed in the shadows.  I may never know.  I may never know but it is fun to let the imagination run amok.    

Just Because

   Have you ever pondered the use of some things?  If you look hard enough, there is a purpose for every natural thing on this earth.  Even the things we deem as "not good" have a reason for being here.  Nothing was created simply to take up space.  Things have a purpose.  

  I was in the midst of a "deep thinking" when it occurred to me that occasionally that all-important reason was just to be.  At this point, I am beginning to think that is my purpose...just to be.  Still, there has to be more.  While on my last stroll for the evening, my thoughts ricocheted around in the dark corners of my brain.  Other than knocking out a few cobwebs, not much was accomplished until just before I was back at the front steps.  The sun was sliding down behind the oak trees and was shooting a few, feeble beams through the garden.  One ray of light dappled upon the water hyacinths in Puddle Pond.  It was a lovely sight to behold. 

  It was then that a thought of wonder struck me. "The water hyacinths are not much good for anything other than looking pretty."  It is true.  The plants are highly invasive and can clog waterways in a matter of months.  Let one rogue plant be dumped free and chaos begins.  These plants can even grow in brackish waters such as the Bayou or even the Bay.  Nothing eats them other than a few bugs that, in desperation, will nibble a few bites.  (At one time, the plants were choking waterways so bad, there was a thought of importing hippos to remedy the problem.  Look it up.  1910..Hippo Bill.  Crazy.)  So, the plants are not useful as foodstuffs.  Other than being pretty, I have only found that they make good fertilizer for the garden.  And, therein, lies another problem because, if you are not careful, they can acclimate to being ground plants especially if you have a particularly wet season.  Obviously, some things are meant to just be pretty and serve no other apparent purpose.  (I am sure there is a use but it escapes my feeble thoughts.) 

  All of this brought one thought...if you feel your purpose on this old earth is not important.  Just be...be the best YOU there is.  That is enough.  

One Legged Birds?

  If you ever wander about a bayou like I often do, you start to ponder the whys and wherefores of a lot of things.  Just this morning, a questioned rambled about in the brain for a while even though I knew the "scientific" answer.  The mind-boggling part had nothing to do with the question of why shorebirds will stand on one leg but had everything to do with if they actually like standing on one leg.  It is a well-known fact that the herons, egrets and cranes around here stand on one leg to keep the other one snug up in their feathers.  Their long, spindly legs lose a lot of heat on these cold nights and mornings so standing on one while the other leg is tucked up under the feathers conserves a lot of heat...but do they like it?  Are they comfortable standing there for hours?  How do they not fall over?  (Think about it...would you be able to stand like that for hours?  I would not!)

  This morning, there were two birds on the end of the pier.  One was a tri-colored heron and the other a snowy egret.  Both were standing in their "unipedal" position, both were staring straight toward my brother's pier and both were oblivious to my presence.   There was just enough breeze to make the birds wobble a bit, now and again.  This is when the all-important question of whether they were happy started squirming its way into my mind.  Oh, how delightful it would be to converse with my fine feathered friends.  But, alas, that is not possible so the answer will never be known.

  I sat on the pier watching the birds for a good while.  Only once did they change positions and swap legs.  In fact, they did this in sync!  It was almost as if a timer was set and it was beeping a loud alarm saying "Time to swap legs!"  Watching them, I had to think how nice and warm their feather must feel to that cold leg! Speaking of warmth, it was time to head back inside.  It was, indeed, a bit chilly out and I do not plan on standing on one leg while tucking the other up in my jacket!

Be careful of the queen!

  Mark brought home two large mum plants for either side of the doorway.  This has been sort of a ritual for the past few years and, I have to admit, it sure makes the place look like fall.  The ones he brought this time were still just buds so they are opening slowly and should last for quite a while.  Each time I enter the Little Bayou House, I have to stop and smile.  Fall has come!

  Have you ever wondered why mums have become the "Queen of Fall Flowers"?  I do ponder such odd things and often have to research a bit to satisfy that nagging thought.  Why?  Who made the decision that chrysanthemums represented fall?  Not that I am complaining...just wondering.  Well, my research did not satisfy the ponderance.  Everything states that they are known as the "Queen" but not much else.  Most of the authors give a history of where mums originated, how Texas has homecoming mums and how we all like them but nothing is said of why they have been dubbed as queen.  Why not daisies?  The roadsides are full of yellow daisies.  Why not purple ageratum?   That stuff is amazingly brilliant, drought tolerant and long lasting.  Why not goldenrod?  Oh yeah.  Goldenrod gets the bad rap of being an allergen even though that is hogwash.  Still, it perplexed me as to why mums?

   Even with all of the rambling about homecoming and colors, there was no real reason ever given.  I guess I should just enjoy the blooms without questioning the titles.  They are favorites!  Do keep in mind, however, that mums are toxic to dogs! Eating one could cause a lot of major problems so it is best to keep your pets away from the fall decorations.  (Not that old Mr. PJ would ever eat a flower but you never know!)  So, long live the queen!

Sunrise...Sunset...And A Whole Lot Of Feelings In Between

  A long, long time ago, I sat on a step weeping over the passing of my grandmother. While the adults were discussing important things, I was sort of left to deal with this blow by myself.  To be honest, I had no idea of how to cope with such a loss.  Never before had anyone close to me died.  I was shocked, saddened and, to be honest, scared.  Sure, growing up on the farm, we saw our share of death but this was different.  THIS was my grandmother...the lady who told me sweet stories about the flowers in her gardens....the lady who soothed my bedtime fears with a cup of milk and a couple of cookies served in her finest teacups....the lady who was the epitome of the perfect Southern grandmother.  She could not leave this world without me.  Her passing was such a shock.  I knew she was ill but no one told me that it had come to this.  When we arrived at my grandparents' home, I was told to "Go sit outside.  Grandmother has died and we (meaning the adults) need to talk."  So, I went to the steps to grieve in my own confused way.

  After being there for a short time, my Aunt Marie (who lived next door) came to console me.  She talked with me a great while as we sat together on the steps.  Aunt Marie explained a lot of things that had never been discussed before.  She explained death in a beautiful way and helped me to accept what had happened.  Then, she just sat beside me and let me grieve.  Her presence was so comforting.

  One of the things Aunt Marie told me has stuck with me for a lifetime.  She compared life to the sunrises and sunsets that we observe here on the Bayou.  The sunrises are the start of a new day.  We go about our business during the day and make life the best it can be.  Then comes the sunset and we are given rest from our daily trials and frustrations.  We always have the idea that morning will come anew and we will have a fresh start. Sunrise gives us hope for eternal life...that our lives will begin again.  Sunsets are compared to the end of our earthly life.  Just like a day ending being a time for rest, death is the ending of our time here and we are to be given peace.  At the time, I was listening to words...words spilling from the mouth of someone who cared that this kid was confused and hurting.   Aunt Marie took the time to try to explain life and death the best she could under the circumstances.  She did good.  I felt better knowing that Grandmother was not in pain any longer and that there was a great possibility that I would see her again some day.  It felt good knowing that someone recognized the fact that, even though I was just a kid, I had feelings.  

  This morning's sunrise was particularly beautiful and it brought back the memory of Aunt Marie helping me through a difficult time.  I miss her even after all of these years after her death.  Even though the sunrise brought a memory of a sad time, I looked at it as a beautiful time in my life.  So, Aunt Marie, if you are up there listening to me ramble, this sunrise is for you and all of the guidance you proffered so many years ago.  Hopefully, we will meet again some day, too.

Sweeping the (Forest) Floor!

  I will say this about the weather on the Bayou, as of late.  It has been windy!  In fact, it has been windy and rainy for almost six months now.  Only a few days each month are sunny.  This is ok by me, however, as I am always up for a bit of rain.  The wind goes along with it so I accept that as well.  It is true that complaining about the weather has never changed it, so I say just go with what you are given.  No problems.

  While out behind the greenhouse this afternoon, a light swishing noise caught my attention.  What in the world could that be??  It reminded me of a broom being used to clean the floor.  Standing still, the sound led me to the source. Yep.  It pretty much was a broom sweeping the floor.  A branch of a yaupon shrub was being flung back and forth by the wind.  As it was bouncing around, it was doing a fine job of sweeping the forest floor.  A wide path was devoid of any fallen leaves!

  The wind once was, at one time,  a significant source of power for so many things but now has been replaced with more convenient methods.  The sweeping motion of the branch brought thoughts of how windmills and sails make use of this free energy source.  Folks used to use ingenuity and make use of what was on hand but those days have gone the wayside.  Now, let there be one short power outage and people are in a tizzy.  Sometimes, I think the times without all of our modern day conveniences was a lot better.  We are all spoiled and perhaps a bit lazy.  Maybe this branch was trying to tell me to get busy and rake the leaves.



 

Fog, Cobwebs and Life

  Early this morning, a heavy fog blanketed the Bayou.  My steps were softly muffled by the wet leaves and a certain stillness engulfed the area.  I was cut off from the "civilized" (and I use the word lightly there) world and was left in the wild for a bit.  It is always exhilarating at times like this.  The pea-soup thick fog made it difficult to see more than a few feet in front of me which always is a bit of a hair raising moment.  You get this feeling that all eyes are watching your every move.  To be honest, foggy mornings are my favorite time to hike.  The critters of the Bayou are out and about as they are concealed as well.  

  Of all the beauty that does surround me on these hikes, I think the spiderwebs are perhaps a favorite.  In the heavy fog, they become jewel-laden adornments for the tree branches or reeds.  This morning, there were hundreds of cobwebs draped among the limbs.  As I photographed some webs, a thought of how there is a similarity between the spiderwebs and life.  What seems simple at first sight, is actually more complex when you really began to study it.  The creation of the web takes time to perfect as does our own attempt to make our way in this old world.  Rush it and it becomes a mess.  One rash move can cause everything to come crashing down around us.  Even a small disturbance can have a ripple effect that makes things become discombobulated. 

  The similarity does not end with the trials that can create a mess. The spider does not give up when her web is torn by an intruder or sags due to water droplets.  She merely takes it down and rebuilds it to be even better.  In life, as with the spiderweb, to make things right again, you learn, rebuild and make things stronger than before.  That persistence to carry on is what makes things worth the effort.  Seeing the beauty that is created (and often recreated) gives us the desire to push forward and be better than before. Just like the spider spinning her elaborate web, we are creating our intricate, beautiful life.  It pays to do things calmly and rationally no matter how many times we have to redo them.  Fog. cobwebs and life...they all make you think.

Just Enough To Make Me Think

  It is really odd how a vision, sound or smell can trigger a memory from long ago.  Perhaps this occurs more often now that I am aging as I do not remember it ever happening in my youth.  Age does strange things to, not only the body, but also the mind.  I find myself dwelling on things I learned in the past then promptly forgot.  Maybe forgot is the wrong word since these tidbits of information come flooding back at any prompted notice.  The more accurate description could be that the data was pushed far in the cobwebbed coated corners of the brain.  (At this point, think of that dusty old box in the back of the attic where no one dares go because it may be haunted!)  Anyway, those bits of information, memories or subdued emotions all come flooding back with the least bit of provocation when you get to be my age.

  This afternoon, I was happily puttering around in the garden plot minding my own business when thoughts started interfering with my work.  A lovely squadron of white pelicans gracefully glided overhead causing all chores to come to a complete halt.  Into the brain popped thoughts of Fairie Lyn.  This lady was Mom's cousin and was probably one of the smartest folks I have ever had the privilege to know.  Over the years, she tried her best to instill some of that knowledge in my brain but, for the life of me, I cannot find it.  Among the many things that she did in her life, one of her favorite pastimes was birding.  She knew just about any type bird out there, could recognize it by flight pattern, could mimic most calls and could spout of the life history of the bird.  While I was still a youngster, she took me on several outings with her "bird group".  To be honest, it annoyed me.  As a kid, all I could see was a bunch of "old people" with binoculars stuck to their faces while they murmured things like "Ahh! There is a yellow-billed cuckoo!  This is such an exciting day!" or "My goodness!  There are TWO common loons!!"  Yeah, well people, you are all a tad cuckoo and act like a bunch of loons! was all that I could think.  I wanted to romp around on the sand dunes when we went to the island.  I wanted to swing on the vines when we were walking the creek beds.  I wanted to be a kid and not be hushed or told to be still as I would scare the birds.  Phooey on birding!

  Things change.  As I aged into an adult, I cherished the time spent with Fairie Lyn.  She and I went birding.  We went to concerts.  We went to the ballet.  I found she was just as quirky as I am.  We tangled at times but it never changed our relationship.  As she said, "We are true partners in crime!"  I never retained all of the information she tried to push at me but, at times, tiny bits worm their way into the forefront of the brain chamber.  Those thoughts haunt me just enough to make me research what she was trying to tell me for free.  A few of the things come in loud and clear.  Like the identities of the white pelicans.  I knew it was them simply by the black wing bars that show only when they are in flight.  I knew that they do not dive like the brown pelicans.  I knew that these birds will only be here on the Bayou for a short time during the winter.  All of these things were "Fairie Lyn" identifying facts.  I believe that my intense love of the birds of the Bayou (whether year long friends or migratory ones) is all due to my early experiences with Fairie Lyn.  

  Speaking of this dear lady (rest her soul), I always loved her name.  Fairie Lyn!  What a perfectly magical name to give a baby girl!  And to think...she had an older sister named Fern!  Yep, my great aunt really knew what she was doing when she named those two!  I do wish Fairie Lyn would have been here today to see the pelicans gliding overhead.  I bet she could have filled me in with a lot more information about the birds. 

Keep Singing, Mr. Cardinal!

  It often makes me ponder when I observe things on my hikes about the hillside.  It matters not if I see something beautiful, unusual or even mundane.  I still ponder the being of things.  This morning, a bright red cardinal sat in the gum tree just above my head.  The bird was singing such a lovely tune that I had to stop and listen for a good ten minutes.  Below him in the underbrush, his ladylove was busy scratching the ground.  From his perch, the male cardinal kept a close watch on her, on me and any predators that may be nearby.  His song, while sweet, seemed to me to be a distraction.  It was called for my ears to keep me from venturing too close to his wife.  Had I proceeded on my hike and neared the female, his song would have changed to a call of urgency.  She would have been warned of the nearing danger.  That did not happen, however, since I was content to watch him.

  The  thoughts that crossed my mind while observing the cardinal ranged from everything of how he protected her to how folks are more familiar with the male cardinal than most other birds. However, other than recognizing the bird, folks rarely know anything about the cardinals.  Because of his brilliant red feathers, this bird is a favorite subject for Christmas cards, figurines and paintings. Some folks, however, have no idea what the female looks like.  Her colors pale in comparison to his but it is for good reason. She cannot be easily spotted while nesting with her muted colors. Also, not many know that the cardinals are monogamous...at least for the season.  While the male is very attentive of his ladylove during the mating season and will often stay with her through the winter, he may choose a new mate during the next spring depending on her ability to raise a successful brood.  Another little known fact is that both the male and female sing.  While his song is more of a territorial thing, hers is usually a "bring me food because I am hungry" notice...and he, more oft than not, complies.  

  My cardinal was doing his best to let his ladylove gather her breakfast without worry.  His song did what he intended for it to do as it distracted my attention from her and brought it to him.  Pretty fellow, you needn't have worried. I would never harm you or you sweet wifey.