The Black Rose of Creativity!

  Back before Christmas, I started a project that was new territory for me.  The more I age, the more my kids keep after me to "learn something new"...so I thought to give this a whirl.  With the internet and a computer generated photograph as inspiration, I attempted to create a rose.  Since I am not very up on computer things, my rose was to be crafted from tin cans.  It seems a shame that so many cold drink cans just get tossed in the trash so I snagged a few and went from there.  Did I have a plan?  Did I know what I was doing?  Did it seem daunting?  Nope...nope and yep.  With an old pair of scissors and three cold drink cans, I started.  I am one of these people who sort of wing things and do not use a pattern. I just started whacking away at those cans.  Once I cut a goodly number of petals and leaves, I was left with an unsightly mess of tin pieces.  Paint and then 6 coats of polyurethane brought up my spirits and made me feel that I could do this!  (Whatever it was I was doing.)

  The project got put the wayside over the holidays and through a bout of illness.  Finally, I was inspired to tackle it again.  The rose was finished and showcased in an altered frame/shadowbox.  (I had to add depth to the frame so I added to the back of it.)  I was pleased with my finished product so it became a "gift" for me.  

  Since completing this project, several people have questioned my thoughts in the creation.  Why make something using nasty old cans?  Why make something that is just more clutter?  Why a black rose?  To answer all of those...why not??  It made me happy!

  The completion of the rose has the crafting urge in full swing.  After working through one lousy illness four years ago, a "pandemic", two hurricanes and a full-blown attack of termites, I am tired.  It is my goal to get back to creating, having fun and being myself again.  Perhaps the black rose...which is said to represent power, mystery and eternal love...is my key of kicking it back into gear.  Here is to creating...to happiness...to self love! I am ready!  I have said it before and I will say it again..Life is good only if we choose to make it that way. Now is the time!

  

Taking Time for Autumn

   Being down here on the Bayou by myself most of the time, I sort of lose track of time.  There is no need for it.  This sounds strange for someone who collects and repairs antique clocks.  "There is no need for keeping track of time."  But...here I am.  I pretty much live by the "feel" of things.  Most days are centered around the weather not time.  I plant when the weather is right.  I work when the weather is right.  I fish when the weather is right.  There are days when I cannot tell you the time, the day of of the week or even what day of the month it is.  There is no "rat-race" when the rats are doing their thing and I am doing mine.  I go for months without ever leaving the place. 

  That said, I do pretty much keep track of seasons!  Those are hard not to recognize when they flip.  Today, it occurred to me that autumn must be near.  As I was working the Small Gardens for my fall planting, a sure sign of the seasonal change was evident.  Next to the gate of the vegetable garden, two stalks of blooms wafted gently on the breeze.  One was the chives that now dot the hillside in wild abandon and the other was a nerine lily.  Usually, hundreds of these blooms (both) can be spotted around the place but with the severe drought that has befallen us, these are the only two to be found.  Both of these are spindly due to that lack of rain.  It saddens me but, at the same time, gives me hope.  If it is autumn, perhaps we shall began to see some rain coming our way. and the summer heat will be pushed away for a few months.  I am ready for that change and thankful that the plants are doing their best to remind me that it is "time" for the seaonal change.

Here Today...

   Years and years ago, my granddad rooted a small branch of a Night Blooming Cereus for me.  The plant flourished and was soon putting on quite the show with its late night blooms.  Then came kids and the poor plant was sorely neglected as my attention was diverted to child rearing.  Somehow, the plant survived all of those years with little to no care other than protecting it from the cold.  After the kids were grown, I was able to turn my attention back to the gardens.  Time and weather (hurricanes) had wreaked havoc on most of the gardens but the cereus lived on through it all.  It was time to bring the plant back to its full glory.  I started rooting and sharing the plants with anyone who wanted one and potting dozens to keep.  I also spent much time enjoying the summertime blooms...albeit late at night.  The blooms are gone by daybreak.

  The odd timing and shortness of bloom-time got me to pondering (as I am prone to do about most everything, as of late.)  Perhaps, just perhaps, this plant is here for a reason...if you are inclined to seek the purpose of all things.  With the huge, 8 inch, frilly flowers representing the beauty of life in general, the shortness of bloom time could be a reminder that all things should be enjoyed in the moment.  We should take the time to be grateful for what we are granted...WHEN it is granted.  What is here today, may be gone tomorrow.  Folks, find time to be thankful for all things for nothing is guaranteed.  Life, itself, is fleeting.

Time To Watch The Centipedes

   It is my habit to get up before dawn merely to have some "me time".  When the kids were still here, my whole time was spent doing for them.  That "me time" was nonexistent if I went by the standard idea of sleeping late.  So, the habit stuck and here I am in my old age still rising at 4am.  Old habits die hard.  But, the time spent by myself is always some of the most interesting and satisfying of the day.  It is then that I can ponder things uninterrupted.  It is also then that I can visit my critter friends without receiving looks of disdain.

  It was one of those "friends" that made me pause for a good ten minutes or so at the crack of dawn.  My wanderings had taken me around back of the house.  That path falls close to the old chimney at one point.  The bricks of the chimney, itself, are rather neat as they are now covered with soft, green mosses.  It is not good for the bricks but it sure is mighty pretty.  Seeing the moss is always a cause for pause to study the designs woven in the crevices.  That is where I found my "friend".  A tiny centipede was so busy hunting its breakfast among the moss mounds that it was oblivious to my presence.  I was able to photograph the critter at my leisure as it stayed on the mosses for quite some time.  In and out!  In and out!  The tiny centipede poked its face in every nook and cranny.  Occasionally, it would find an ant.  It would only stop long enough to devour the insect before restarting its search.

  It is times like that moment that I cherish.  Had anyone been with me as I traipsed the hillside, I am sure my centipede visit would not have been so lingering.  Not many folks tend to take an interest in such oddities.  I do.  I revel in each find and want to soak it all in before I am not able to do this any more.  Time is short, my friends.  Enjoy it while you can.  Take the time to smell those roses or watch the centipedes.  Take the time for you.

Making Good Use of Time

    My reign as Queen of the Small Gardens continues as I am still following orders of doctors and Son.  "There shall be no unsupervised, unescorted hikes beyond the garden gates."  Even though I understand this to be for my own safety, it still wears thin.  I am used to roaming free and communicating with Mother Nature on a one to one basis.  This bit of being confined is not to my liking but I shall continue.  I do, however, adore being queen of something so if it has to be of gardens, then so be it.  The gardens it is!

  This morning, I pondered just what interesting sight I could find to occupy the pent up brain.  I figure just because my body is in "jail" that does not mean my imagination has to be.  Let it fly!  I found long ago that there are no barriers on how far you can go by using the wonders of the imagination.  

  My eyes scanned the small garden until a dark green patch caught my eye!  Ahh, yes!  A bit of moss was well hidden in one shady corner.  Here, there must live the faeries!  Those wee winged creatures that haunt the flower vines and wisp among the lilies.  My brain was sent into a tailspin as I traveled back to building faerie gardens with Aunt Helen.  The moss was the perfect carpeting, empty acorn shells were goblets and any pebbles provided ample seating.  The faeries were going to attend a Magical Ball!  Colored leaves and flower petals added a bit of brightness as they were hung from twigs.  A large shell filled with water became a gazing pool of sorts.  Memories of Aunt Helen swirled with the dancing faeries and my morning became filled with happiness.

  No, I did not build my faerie house on the fine moss carpet but I did fill the time with imaginative stories.  Time can be our ally or our enemy...it all depends on how we use it.  I choose to fill it with happy thoughts instead of trying to inflict my ideas on others.  

The Queen Has Spoken! More Zinnias!

  The "Queen of the Small Gardens" has a new thought!  Since the zinnias are doing so well and since I have a about a bucketful of extra seeds and since I cannot push a lawnmower to keep the yard clean, I need to broadcast the seeds with wild abandon!  Perhaps, I should just mix all of the saved flower seeds in a pail and scatter them!  The seeds could plant themselves wherever the wind blows them!  How pretty would that be??!!  How nice to not have to watch the grass grow to knee-high!  How colorful?!! How happy?!!  How immensely mesmerizing would a sea of color be?!!  Just a thought.  Perhaps Hubby and Son have other thoughts but...mehh...I am Queen of the Small Gardens and I am just expanding my realm!

  To be honest, the zinnia seeds are some I had saved from past years.  A while back, I bought a pack from DollarTree.  I was not even sure if they would sprout but, here years later, they are still doing well.  As the blooms start to wane, I snip them and toss them in an old cardboard box in the greenhouse.  There, they dry and sit until I get a chance to box them for the next season.  The plants in the garden keep blooming and blooming until they finally succumb to the winter's cold.   

  The flower gardens back on the farm always contained zinnias.  Pop saved the seeds from year to year just as he taught me to do.  Now, I find I am mimicking so many of Pop's actions.  That pleases me as I figure the man knew his gardens.  Maybe, just maybe, a bit of that rubbed off on me.  Now...the Queen of the Small Gardens has made her decision!  More zinnias!  I need more zinnias!  (Yes, I am bored being limited.)




 

Taking The Time

  I have not posted in a few days so please forgive me if you were a daily reader.  Things sort of got in the way.  Hopefully, there will be no lingering effects and I can be back for good.  There was also a lack of photographs during this lapse so we shall start anew on that, as well.  My hikes around the hillside and to the pier have been nixed and I am now confined to the small garden area unless I am "escorted" by Mark or Son.  This does put a damper on things as "sneaking" up on the critters to get the "perfect shot" is no longer an option.  My photography has now turned to basically "still lifes".   The flowers of the garden will have to suffice.

  This morning as I was sitting on my new "throne", also known as the front steps, the poor little potted Althea bush almost cried out to me to help it escape the strangling arms of the Jasmine vines.  In the few days that I have been absent from the garden, the Jasmine has decided to branch out in wild abandon.  That abandonment included the poor Althea.  The small shrub was loaded with fine, purple blooms but had the choking vines wrapped about it in a tangled mess.  

  I promised the little shrub that I would try to convince Son to either move it or at least give the Jasmine a good trimming....probably both.  There is so much that needs to be done but no energy to do much.  Time...yep, time...things take time.

Thankful for Little Friends

  Sometimes, you only have to look in the garden to find a good friend.  Being as my time outside has been strictly curtailed by caring for the old dog, the gardens are literally on their own.  I do little more than spray a bit of water on them every day or so and then hope of a bit of rain on the days when I cannot even get out to do that.  The plants are suffering greatly and it breaks my heart but there is just not enough time (and I do not have the energy) to tend to their needs. I'm running on empty here.

  I did, however, manage to sneak out for about fifteen minutes early this afternoon. Our temperatures were pushing the triple digits again and there was no rain in sight.  It was not the best time to be outside but since Son was not busy elsewhere at the moment, he volunteered to "dog sit" for Mr. PJ.  I hurriedly sprayed everything with a bit of water and then rushed back indoors.  While I was out, I did find one fine friend in amongst the plants. A huge praying mantis crawled from a young poinsettia plant (leftover from last Christmas!) onto a avocado sapling.  I would not have even noticed had my spraying the water hose not sent a small cricket scurrying.  The cricket sought refuge from the water droplets only to be snatched up by the mantis.  This slight movement was enough to make me grab the camera for a few photos before I headed back to check on the dog. 

  A praying mantis (or any of the several species found around here) is a welcome friend to gardeners.  It is beneficial due to its indiscriminate diet.  A mantis will eat just about anything it can overpower which includes a lot of the nuisance insects that attack plants.  The one today ate a cricket but it would not hesitate to eat squash bugs, stinkbugs, any number of caterpillars, moths or whatever wiggles.  The mantis uses stealth to capture the insects.  It will sit almost motionless or will sway a bit like a leaf in the wind until a critter ventures too near.  Then, the critter will call upon its lightning speed to spring forth and grasp the prey. Those folded front legs are used like arms to clutch its dinner. 

  I was happy to see the mantis in the garden this afternoon and equally as happy to see one on the window screen this evening.  In fact, I would love to see dozens upon dozens of the critters living in the gardens which is exactly why I refuse to use insecticides.  Why poison the plants and yourself when there are those who will do the dirty work of ridding the garden of pests for free?  

Ok, SLOW DOWN!

    The hubbub of Christmas Morn at the Little Bayou House was most likely heard in the next county.  The grandlittles' squeals of delight brightened the old place tremendously.  There is nothing like having grown kids return to their childhood home with kids of their own in tow.   No matter how far away they roam, when they return home, it is special but let it be Christmastime and it is downright magical..

  This afternoon, I took the old dog for a walk only to see my son and his son on the pier.  My heart was full.  I never wanted time to stand still for a while, until seeing this beautiful pair off in the distance.  Please time...if you cannot stop, at least slow down a bit.  I need my family here a bit longer....please?

   

Where I Want To Be

  Something is amiss here on the Bayou.  For the past week or so, I have been more or less housebound.  Not that I mind.  I like my little house.  Still, I prefer to be roaming the hillside or on the pier.  The pier is my peaceful place.  It is where I go when I need to rejuvenate the attitude and outlook on things.  The water is calming.  But, as I said, I have been housebound, in a way.  With the old dog not feeling up to par, it seemed the perfect time to delve into a new project.  Since I have to be at his beck and call due to the pain and falls, I may as well get something done.  So, the entryway received a makeover and now the craft room has been gutted.  It does keep me busy and keep my mind occupied, at least.  And...I am never too far away from Mr. PJ if his legs suddenly give.  I have learned how to pick up a nigh on 70lb dog without hurting myself.  The one episode of bracing him with my knee and causing it injury is enough!

  Today, however, I took him for a slow walk down the hill.  He wanted to stay for a bit and just feel the breeze so...we did just that.  I plopped on the ground next to him and we sat...for about an hour.  He seemed to relish the time spent just staring out over the Bay and I enjoyed just being outside with him.  

  Staring down that long pier did make me realize just how much I miss watching the sunrise up over the Bayou and then in the evening watching it slide down behind the pines on the opposite side of the Bay.  I miss fishing and crabbing for our lunch and dinner.  I miss the smell of low tide and the the wind hitting my face.  I miss the pier.  But, that will have to wait until another day.  The old dog cannot make it that far, nor would I trust his legs not to collapse at an inopportune time.  Fishing him out of the water would be nigh on impossible.  Mr. PJ's well being comes first.  The pier can wait.  It will have to wait.

The Renegade 12!

  Noon, lunchtime, midday, high noon...call it what you may, it is still 12pm.  Midnight, the Witching Hour, the Dead of Night, the Darkest Hour...call it what you may, it is still 12am.  Both hands of a clock point upwards (if you have a clock that has hands, otherwise 12:00 will show in bright lights).  If you are fortunate enough to have a clock that chimes, boings, ding-dongs or otherwise announces the hour, it should do a reasonable sounding of twelve.  Clocks have a way of doing that.  They let us know the hour and half-hour.  They let us tick away the minutes.  They proudly announce the time.  Unless you have a clock like mine.

  For the past week or so, I have spent more sleepless nights than I should have.  With illness in the house, I felt the need to "mother" everyone...both guys, the dog, the cat, any ill being that crossed the threshold.  Those sleepless hours dragged on and I kept count by the clock. The cuckoo clock that hangs on the wall has always had a problem with its announcements.  The goofy bird pops out about ten minutes before the hour and cuckoos anywhere between one and seventeen times.  Why seventeen?  I have no clue.  Also, there is no set time when that bird chooses to cuckoo seventeen times, it just does.  Then, there is the big, old clock that hangs above the mantel.  It has been great about keeping nigh on perfect time with one exception...the boings are way off!  Well, all are impeccably accurate except the 12s.  There are NO 12s!  Don't get me wrong, there is still the number 12 on the face of the clock but the goofy thing refuses to strike twelve times!  This makes it a tad confusing when you are sitting in the dark trying to figure if it is close to medicine dosing time when there is no 12.  Think about it...NO 12!

  The old clock strikes once for the half hour (11:30pm).  Boing!  Good.  Then, (12am) Boing, Boing!  Wait?  Is that 2am already?   Get up and check the time.  Nope, that was midnight.  So after 11pm, it was anybody's guess about the time until 3am.  My nights went like this Boing!(11:30pm)  Boing, Boing!(12am)  Boing!(12:30am)  Boing!(1am)  Boing!(1:30am)  Boing, Boing!(2am)  Boing!(2:30am)  My midnight was not 12, it was 2!  So, I checked at noon.  Yep, 12 was still missing.  Somewhere along the way, 12 has gone missing and cannot be found.  We have a lovely clock with a renegade 12!  No noon..no midnight!  I am so confused!  It is time to learn clock repair, I suppose.  12!  I just need a 12!

It Takes Time

  Time is a great healer.  Time is a great teacher.  Time is a great mediator. Time is just about all we need and, yet for some reason, time is so fleeting.  At least in my case, I never have enough of it to do what I want. Perhaps I am lazy and dillydally about all day but I can never accomplish all I had grand ideas to do.  Once I retire for the evening, I plan what needs to be done the next day.  It seems so simple.  Surely, I can reach my goals and then have time for crafting.  It never happens that way. Son says I set unrealistic goals.  He claims that I do not allow myself to slow down and accept what is possible.  Maybe?

  Time, however, does bring about some really good things.  Darling Daughter gave me a bottle of her homemade pear vinegar.  There are a number of pear trees in her yard and as she canned the fruit, it kept nagging at her that she was wasting parts of the pears.  The peels and cores had to be good for something.  She opted to make wine. Letting the pears ferment took time...lots of time. Weeks and weeks passed without anything "good" appearing to happen but deep down in that jar things were developing...growing into something marvelous.  During the process, the pear cores and peels started to change from scraps to something wonderful. A few missteps along the way caused a snaffu. Instead of wine, her pears turned to vinegar but it was an amazing vinegar!  She was happy with the results even though things did not turn out quite as expected.  Like the vinegar, occasionally, it just takes time for us to realize our full potential.  It takes time to grow, to develop and to even learn to accept what we can or cannot achieve. 

  Not only did time bring the vinegar to its full term, it showed me something else.  Darling Daughter has inherited a timeworn trait that has been passed down generation to generation.  It has been drilled into our heads that we should not waste...anything.  "Waste not, want not" reverberated throughout my childhood and then later I repeated it to my kids.  I was happy to see that my daughter has learned that lesson well.  

   

No Hands on my Time!

  Earlier today, I took the time to finally adjust the large cuckoo clock in the living room.  Yes, I do realize that the time change took place quite a bit ago but, hey, it was only an hour off!  Anyway, after I adjusted the hour, I also adjusted the sound part of the clock.  The bird has been sounding off at odd hours and never in sync with the current hour.  No problem..there is a little button on the side of the clock that allows you to reset the number of times the bird does his thing.  Once I was satisfied that all was well and we could now pass the time with ease, I headed to the kitchen to cook.  

   I returned later to find something terribly amiss!  The clock looked vastly different than just an hour before.  I had no time on my hands or, rather more correctly, I had no hands on my time!  Something dire had happened to the clock!  It was missing a hand.  Ok, so figuring it had to be somewhere nearby, I searched the top of the antique buffet.  Nope, the missing hand was not there.  I searched the floor,  Nope, no hand in sight.  I used a flashlight to peer behind the buffet.  Nary a hand could be found.  I got down on my hands and knees to search beneath the piece of furniture...still no hand.  Well, I'll be!  Where was that hand?  I called Son to my rescue.  "Hey, I have a mystery on my hands...errr, lack of hands!" I called upstairs.  He came down and looked at me oddly.  I explained the situation in full detail.  To say he is patient with his old ma is putting it mildly.  He went out to examine the clock.

  After just a few moments, Son had solved the mystery and all was well in the time zone. (heehee) It seems that the hand had fallen off of the clock just as I had suspected but it did not fall far.  The carvings on the cuckoo clock are set a tad out from the main housing of the clock itself. The hand had fallen directly behind the carved wooden bird nest that adorns the front of the clock.  (I think those two birds stole the hand! Perhaps they are crows and like shiny things.)  Since the clock is hung up above the buffet and since I am, ummm...not too tall, I could not see the hiding place.  Son (who towers above me) spied the hand with ease. He replaced the hand calming all my worries.  

  This whole missing hand thing is kind of ironic in itself.  During the last clue hunt, a door key had been hidden in the exact same spot.  Had I been a keen sleuth, I should have realized that the little ledge might have hidden the hand but I guess I am better at making up mysteries than solving them! At least now, time marches on and the hands are doing their fine job of pointing the hour AND minutes.