The Sticky Mess

   Way back in January of 1919, a deadly event occurred that could have been prevented had carelessness not gotten in the way.  Most folks nowadays have forgotten or merely have not even heard of the "Great Molasses Flood of 1919" and when you mention it, a lot of folks stare in disbelief as if it was not a true disaster.  Jokes are often made but the loss of life is not ever fodder for comedy.  The flood really did happen and it was all the result of greed and carelessness.  The flood was truly that...a flood.  It happened because of a failure in the structure of a 50 foot tall storage tank that was a slipshod construction.  A neighborhood in North End, Boston was completely devastated by a gigantic surge of molasses after the storage tank ruptured.  Townsfolk had pointed out the structure leakage long before the tank literally exploded but nothing more than a brown coat of paint was applied to the tank.  This was done to merely disguise the problem and not to remedy the situation.  Because of the shady dealings, the rupture caused the neighborhood to be engulfed by a 35 mile per hour wave that was 25 foot tall.  2.3 million gallons of molasses ripped through buildings, toppled trains from the tracks and, most horrifically, killed 21 people and numerous animals.  The town was in complete shambles and covered in a horribly sticky mess that made cleanup nigh on impossible until it was found that salt water helped dissolve the goo.  The fire department was then put in charge of the major amount of cleanup as salt water was pumped from the Boston Harbor.  All in all, this was a tragic event that could have been prevented had the Purity Distilling Company only inspected their tank to make sure it would withstand the pressure of so many tons of molasses.  Responsible action should have been key goal.

  Not to be compared to this catastrophic incident, something happened yesterday here at the Little Bayou House that caused this whole memory of that flood.  Purely because of a molasses spill on the kitchen table, I recalled that Granddad had told me about the Great Molasses Flood.  This spill, like the flood, could have been avoided had "protocol" merely been followed.  It appears that the lid of a molasses bottle was not properly tightened after use and then the bottle was inadvertently toppled.  Yep, a small scale "chaos" occurred.  Sticky syrup flooded the table.  As I was cleaning the goo, Granddad's story came to mind.  I was determined that, once I finished the task at hand, I was going to research the event.  It was eye-opening and, at the same time, heartbreaking.  There were 21 too many lives lost due to negligence.  In both cases, that "ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure" idiom comes to mind.  Responsible action could have prevented the devastating flood in Boston and the small-scale mess in my kitchen.  

  Folks, if you ever have a few moments, read the history of the Great Molasses Flood of Boston.  Something that happened over a hundred years ago should be a reminder that we all need to be more responsible in our actions.  

 

  

Twenty-two? Seriously?

   So the Clue Hunt on the Bayou got to a late start this year.  Between illness, injuries, termites and a mass amount of cleaning the property, things got hectic.  However!  Son and I were determined to bring the hunt to a reality again (after a 5 year hiatus).  We pushed through the setbacks, cut back on a few of the major props and dug deeper into ingenuity but we did it!  The hunt is in mid-run now and will continue for another week.  Even with our problems, each group attending gave rave reviews and voiced their desire to come back next year.  Success!  At least, success in my point of view.

  Each hunt is an immersive event where even the decorations fit the theme.  This year, our whole place was set in a Victorian town so everything had to have the appearance of being of that era.  One shop was a tailor shop.  Hmmm...well, intentions were good to actually sew a bunch of Victorian style clothing pieces for display.  That did not happen.  I was on the verge of despair when I recalled a trunk full of old clothing from...get this...the turn of the century...yep...that turn of the century!  I had clothes from around the correct time period just stashed in a trunk.  Mom had kept them...and whoever before her....kept them...I kept them.  Now, those dresses were to finally be stars of the show again! 

  As I carefully unpacked dress after dress, something dawned on me.  My goodness!  The waist measurments were absurdly tiny!  I mean TINY!  Keep in mind these dresses were worn by ladies not children.  Out of curiousity, I measured.  Yep...tiny!  Most were around 20 to 22 inches but some were 18 to 19 inches.  Were these gowns worn with corsets or were the ladies just slender?  Either way...I would never be able to wear one of these elaborate gowns unless the outfit did include a corset that was laced "unbreathably" tight!  (Unbreathably is not actually a word but it describes my feeling about tight-laced corsets.)  Still, the dresses were truly amazing as they were all handmade with most being hand-stitched.  

  Now, I wish I had the talent to sew beautiful gowns even though I do not wear them except for the clue hunts.  I may give it a try by following some of these gowns.  Perhaps a paper pattern could be fashioned?  Who knows...but...I do know that not many will have such tiny waistlines!  Mine will need at least an 8 inch increase before I would be able to breathe.  

Just A Lily Brightening the Way.

   I have been lax on taking care of the plants this whole summer.  It seems as if one thing or another has gotten in the way and anything not on that "priority" list fell to the wayside.  I feel bad about it but, at the same time, feel there was no need in pushing myself beyond feasible limits.  I am getting old.  Today, however, as I meandered back behind the old greenhouse to the grape arbor, I was greeted in the most pleasant way.  The lycoris lilies were in full bloom...at least as much of "full" bloom as was possible in view of the recent chomping by the Eastern Lubber Grasshoppers.  Those things are relentless!  The lilies proved stronger and were simply gorgeous.  The golden color is a perfect touch for the hint of fall that we are enjoying. 

  These particular lilies were from a few bulbs that I received some 30 years ago from a dear friend.  Ms. Twin (yes, there were two and they were both "Ms. Twin") had dug up some of her bulbs just to share with me.  This sweet elderly lady knew I loved flowers of any kind and knew that she had the perfect gift...one from the heart.  I was elated and immediately planted the bulbs.  They have bloomed every year since and always remind me of the dear friend.  Sadly, she passed only two years after gifting the bulbs to me.  

  The lilies are in the same family as the Red Nerine lilies that are so abundant across the Deep South.  They have a dozen or so names including Lycoris Lily, Nerine Lily, Spider Lily, Jersey Lily, Guernsey Lily and even Naked Lady Lily (due to the lack of leaves...not clothes.)   The spotting of the lilies gave me a much needed lift this morning and I was able to continue the day with a bit more ambition that before.  I figure if the lilies could fight against the drought and grasshoppers then I should be able to fight against the tiredness that wracks the body.  Never doubt that somewhere hidden among the trials is an answer that can make everything right again.

Unfounded Fear?

   When you are fishing around in the Frog Pond trying to pull out some of the spent water hyacinths, the last thing you need to see is a snake.  For me, it is enough to make the work pause while I determine the type of snake.  Here, we have all kinds...both venomous and nonvenomous so it is always a wise move to verify what type is nearby.  There is absolutely no need to put yourself in danger if said snake is apt to make you wind up in a hospital but, on the other hand, there is absolutely no need to quit work if the snake is a friend.  (Unless, of course, the work was not something you wished to do, in the first place.)  Anyway, the snake was identified and the clearing of hyacinths continued.  This was merely my friendly watersnake so there was nothing alarming...at least, not for me.  The snake may have not appreciated this "monster" messing in its domain but that is a different perspective, altogether.

  Finding the snake in the little pond made me ponder just how many folks are terrified of ANY snake.  I have literally seen people have panic attacks over a black racer so I can only imagine how those same folks would have falsely identified this critter as a cottonmouth.  Where did this intense fear originate?   It cannot be contributed to just a phobia as their stories tend to be a bit on the wild side.  "Snakes are all "poisonous."  Nope...while there  may be "poisonous" snakes somewhere...they are extremely rare and...you have to eat them to be affected by the toxins.  Now...there are "venomous" snakes around here but not ALL are in that category.  Most are nonvenomous.   Then I hear,  "Snakes hunt you down to bite you."  Huh?  Why in the world would they do that?  If a venomous snake does bite you, it is because you invaded its territory.  (Like me wallowing in the Frog Pond.)  A snake has more sense than to waste its venom on something that is not going to fill its belly and, trust me, our snakes are not going to eat you.  They cannot.  They physically cannot.    Finally...they resort to "The only good snake is a dead snake!"  What foolishness is that?  All snakes do good things by keeping other critters in check.  Without them, think of how many rats, mice, insects and other critters would be crawling about the place.  Plus, killing anything just because you do not like it is never the right thing to do.  Live and let live...in peace.  It just makes me ponder. 

 

  Perhaps this is a thing passed down through family members.  Pop made sure we could identify venomous snakes over nonvenomous and to let all live if entirely possible.  Possibly, the fear of snakes is a learned thing simply because no one ever took the time to teach kids which to not handle.  Maybe it was just easier to "scare" kids into not messing with any snakes than to take a few minutes teaching them.  Who knows?  Also, there is a big cultural thing that portrays all snakes as "evil" which is a bunch of crock.  To my experiences, humans are the only species that can possibly be called "evil".  Snakes get a bad rap just like crows, ravens, black cats and even goats.  Those poor critters have been splatted across history as being bearers of bad luck, misfortune and even death.  Once again...a big NOPE.  Some folks just have to create a justification for their own silliness.  Critters are not evil.  Snakes are not evil.  This does not mean critters cannot be dangerous but a bit of commonsense should come into play somewhere.  That said, had my snake been an actual cottonmouth (or any other venomous snake), it would have been removed from the Frog Pond simply because the pond is so near the back door.  The watersnake can stay but I do warn visitors that the critter is there simply to avoid any panic attacks.  Me?  I did get those water hyacinths thinned even with my friend having to be shooed off of some that needed pulling.  It obliged and I continued.  We are a pretty good team!

Ghostly Visions!

  Yep, it is getting on to that time!  Halloween is just around the corner and along with that comes the thoughts of eerie things.  To some folks, living on a bayou is eerie enough simply because of the local denizens that reside here.  Just the mere mention of gators or cottonmouth moccasins is enough to scare some people but, if you throw in a conversation about things screaming in the night or howling from the depths of bayou where it meets the creek, you can give many visitors a good case of the bejeebies.  (I guess I am showing my age here as "spell-check" is yelling "You cannot use that!  It is not a word!"  Umm...I am old.  I use old words.)  Anyway, the mention of anything supernatural brings out the idea that the place is haunted and...well...I am a good part of that. I am good with the analogy as it is all in fun and those who think otherwise need to lighten up a bit.

  The other morning, I peered out the screen door as Bat, the cat, wanted out.  Ahh, there was to be a lovely sunrise and I should traipse myself to the pier was all that could run through the brain...so I did.  The darkness settled around me as the sun had barely reddened the sky behind the pines on the other side of the Bayou.  Carefully choosing my way as to not step on one of those aforementioned snakes, Bat and I headed our separate ways.  He headed north while I headed south.  Soon, I was to the plank that spans the short gap to the pier planking.  This is there for high tide but makes a handy "bridge" over what could be a perfect spot for a cottonmouth to linger unseen.  Stepping lightly on the planking, I eased my way to the end of the pier.  A sole white shape could be partially seen through the darkness.  If I had been one of those scary type folks, this may have made me stop in my tracks.  (To be honest most of those folks would not have been traipsing out in the pitch black to start with but, hey!...this is me.)  The "pier ghost" stood dead still.  It did not make a move even though I edged closer.  "Well, now!  How are you my friend?" I murmured.  I received no answer.  I eased closer yet.  

  By the time I got to the end of the pier, the sky was a glorious array of reds and oranges.  My "ghost" had been starting to become drenched in the same colors but decided now was time to make its great escape.  Off to the back of the Bayou it flew on whispering wings but not without a double squawk!  Goodbye, Ghost!  

  To me, it is funny how the gorgeousness of an egret is offset by such an atrocious call.  The bird in itself is absolutely beautiful.  Its white plumes seem out of place amid the mud that is so commonplace around bayous, its graceful, elegant stance appears to be far too fragile to battle the life it lives here but it is that squawk that is most incongruous with the elegance that the bird portrays.  It just does not fit....in all fairness, though, it does fit quite well with a ghostly bayou critter!

The Lack of Sleep and a Thing of Beauty!

   A few years ago, my brother gave me a piece of a plant that he had on his front porch.  He said that it was there when he moved into the house.  The home used to be our grandparents' place and I do recall there being a lot of plants there when our grandparents were alive.  The plant was a cactus of sorts and greatly resembled the Night Blooming Cereus that I had (from the same grandparents).  He said that his plant had never bloomed to his knowledge even though it was about 30 years old.  Hmm...well, it was still interesting so I gladly took my "leaf" home to root.  The cutting did well and soon became a huge plant that I lugged in and out of the greenhouse to protect.  I was happy with the night "non-blooming" cereus just because it was an interesting cactus.  Whereas the other cereus plant leaves were flat, these start out triangular and then flatten.  Such an odd addition to my "rainforest".

  Well, now three years after the gift of a cutting, the cactus decided it was time to bloom!  Last night, I stayed up far too late for this old lady just so I could view (and photograph) the bloom.  Needless to say, that 4am rising time came before I was ready but Bat, the cat, thought otherwise.  Happily, the bloom was still open although a bit weary itself.  I smiled as I stepped out the French doors before dawn.  Seeing that single flower well made up for the lack of sleep.

  Now comes the bit of studying time to find out exactly what type of night-blooming cactus this is.  There are so many different types out there!  Having the triangular stems (leaves) and the smaller bloom should help in the research.  Also, rooting more has become a priority!  

Hairypods!

   Earlier this week, I headed to the pier to toss over some shrimp hulls.  We throw these out for the bull minnows as a nice snack.  They get their fill from the tidbits left in the hulls and I do not have to dispose of the things in any other way.  It is a win/win situation with both parties happy.  Anyway, as I headed back up the pier, I noticed that the end post was completely covered with vines.  My first thought was that this was a Saltmarsh Morning Glory but when I got closer, I realized that I was mistaken.  There were lots of (unopened) buds that were far to small plus they were yellow.  The leaves were different, as well.  On closer inspection, I realized that this plant had been blooming for a while because it was covered with 4 inch long "peas"!  Alrighty!  This needed to be identified.  I snatched off a few pods and headed to the house.

  A bit of research gave me a clear idea of the plant.  This was a Hairypod Cowpea Vine!  Oh, my goodness...the more I read...the more interesting the vine proved to be!  These things are edible!  Not only can you eat the peas but the pods and flowers are edible and all are a good source of protein and provide vitamins A and C.  I understand why people prefer the other "cowpeas" (think crowder, blackeyed, pinkeyed and purple hull) as they are much larger and, hence, easier to shell.  Still, I find the Hairypods interesting and I am eager to try them as a food source.

  That said, this one plant will never provide enough to feed the three folks living in the Little Bayou House so I needed to do a bit of planning.  Every day, I have been gathering the dried pods to save the seeds.  Once I get plenty, they will be dried and stored for this next spring.  Then...my hairypod cowpeas shall find a new home in the garden plots and I shall not have to forge for them down where the cottonmouths reign.  Hopefully, this native plant will do well and provide us with "free food".  It is simply amazing how we as a species have forgotten how to live off the land.  There are not many who wish to eat something literally growing in the marsh!  Most folks are not game to try things unless it comes from a store....stores that sell a lot of things that we should NOT be consuming. Foraging is not a bad thing, at all!