Just Doing His Job

   The other morning, I was busy cutting out some of the smilax vines that had taken over a clump of palmettoes.  This is some chore since the tubers can be massive and, if you leave one tiny bit, the vines will soon come back with a vengeance.  It is a losing battle on this hill.  Then again, perhaps I should leave the vines and chop out everything else.  Those huge tuber clumps do a fine job of keeping the hillside from washing down into the Bayou during hurricanes!  Maybe I need to rethink my landscaping here.  Anyway, as I was whacking at the vines, a familiar whapping could be heard just behind me.  Looking up, I found the guy that was smacking a tree with all his might.  Ahh, you are a good fellow, Mr. Pileated Woodpecker. You keep working on that tree!  I need it down.

  The woodpecker was hammering away on a dead white oak tree that had succumbed to a termite infestation.  Yep, most of our live trees are being eaten from the inside out and there is not much that can be done.  We have been treating the trees but there is no way possible to get to "the root of the problem"...so the termites flourish and the trees die.  It is sad. Still, the woodpecker is doing his job.  As he hammers away on the tree, he is probably getting rid of more termites, wood beetles and carpenter ants than we will ever be able to tackle.  

  I watched and smiled as the bird bore hole after hole into the dead tree.  Since this particular tree is far from anything it can damage by falling, I am leaving it for Mother Nature to take down.  So many critters can inhabit or forage in a dead tree.  The pileated is only one type of woodpecker that visits the tree on a daily basis.  The birds are doing a fine job of literally "chopping" down the tree.  By midwinter, the tree should come crashing down then the termite nest beneath can be accessed and the varmints killed.  Until then...the carpenter ants can feast upon the termites and, in turn, the birds can feast upon the ants.  Win/win situation for those of us who hate termites!  Good job, Mr. Pileated Woodpecker!  Good job.

Being All Scientific and Stuff....

   It is my habit of rising at 4am which gives me plenty of time to do a few "inside" household chores before heading outside just before the sun starts to rise above the pines on the far side of the Bayou.  It is during that time that I can do my best "pondering" plus catch a few fish, shrimp or crabs for the noontime meal.  Lately, however, Mark has been overloading us with fish so I have more time to do that thinking.  A couple of days ago, that thinking turned to a full bit of memories and then turned to curiosity as so many of my ponderings do.  I have to check things out to see just how accurate the old memory is.

  The moon was just a tiny, bowl-shaped sliver of silvery white against the dark sky.  I was just admiring the beauty when I heard some of Pop's words rattling around in the memories.  He always used to call this a "dry moon" because that bowl was holding all the rain.  Hmmm...dry moon.  Well, it did seem to hold some truth because we are having a painfully dry couple of weeks.  The garden definitely needs rain.  That was beside the point just now, however, as I was more interested in that dry moon.

  Sure enough, Pop may have been onto something...at least with the name.  According to all I read, this phenomenon happens only a couple of times each year depending on where you live.  It all has to do with the moon's orbit around the earth and the earth's orbit around the sun...AND...the tilt of the earth on its axis.  Yep...scientific stuff going on there.  Anyway, most of the time we see the sliver of the moon in a crescent sort of like a C but when the orbits do their thing and the moon looks like it is heading right down to the horizon, that C becomes more like a U all because of the way the sun illuminates it.  Some folks call it a "wet moon" while other call it a "dry moon" but it is basically for the same reason.  Folklore has it that when the moon is like a bowl, it is holding the rainwater thus giving a dry spell.  So...wet moon or dry moon, that bowlful of water stays put and does the gardens no good.  Folklore can seem confusing when the tales call things opposite names for the same reason.  Still, both agree that the rainy season will come back when the moon (bowl) starts to tilt and the rain spills out and down to earth.  NOW...it makes all the sense in the world...sort of...maybe. 

  Whether any of this holds true scientifically or whether it is purely folklore is yet to be seen but it sure is dry...and Pop said it so it has to be true.  Good enough for me.  So...my ponderance for the day seemed to totally hinge upon memories from so long ago.  Who needs science when you had Pop to teach you these things?!!!

Hurricanes, Shrimp, Gars and Childhood Memories

   Since Son has completed the repairs on the pier, fishing, shrimping and crabbing have resumed.  It is almost unheard of to have so much activity going on in the Bay and Bayou...at least, in recent years.  The last time that I recall catching this many shrimp from a pier was way back in the late '60s.  Right before Hurricane Camille hit when I was just a kid, Pop was bringing home buckets and buckets of shrimp that he caught with his net.  Then...along came the hurricane and we were in a fine fix.  This was before the handy-dandy generators that are so popular today.  Pop rigged up a homemade "generator" of sorts from an old lawnmower engine to run our pump but it did not supply enough energy to keep the freezers going.  What was Mom to do with a freezer full of quickly thawing shrimp?  Of course...feed the linemen that were trying their best to restore the electricity to our house!  Pop built a makeshift outdoor burner (wood fired) and brought out the huge canning pots to boil shrimp.  Living on a farm, we had plenty of potatoes and eggs to make potato salad and supply other veggies as sides.  Word got out that we had homecooked meals and the hungry workers were soon feasting.  Mom and Pop both said that those were the "best parties" they ever hosted!  Plus, the hundreds of pounds of shrimp did not go to waste!

  Memories of the shrimp feasts came tumbling from the brain as I casted the net for yet more shrimp the other morning.  Our freezers are full.  Our kids' freezers are (or will be once they come) full.  We have supplied our elderly friends with enough peeled shrimp to give them multiple meals.  Plus, extended family members have received their shares.  Still...I catch.  Mark catches.  We both head and peel the shrimp and feed the needs of so many.  It is a good feeling.

  Along with those pounds and pounds of shrimp, the fish are biting so I always throw out a line as I am shrimping.  Mark usually heads out in the little skiff but I stay back on the pier.  While he is catching redfish and trout, I catch nothing but gars!  It seems that young gars are following the schools of shrimp so the other fish are staying a bit further out.  I kept seeing huge breaks in the water just at the shoreline so I figured perhaps the redfish were dining on shrimp.  Nope...gars.  Just gars.  Do I want a gar for anything?  Nope...not at all, so they get released back into the Bay.

  Those gars even brought back a memory of a "fishing trip" with two of my brothers.  They had found a scuttled boat and tried to make repairs.  Well, those repairs were not the best since they were done by two kids.  Still, I was game to go along with the adventure when they asked.  I was plum happy to be going with my big brothers ANYWHERE!  Little did I know we were going gar fishing on the other side of the Bayou.  They had seen some huge gars there and thought it might be fun to wrestle in one.  Also, little did I know that I was to be designated as "chief bailer".  After paddling to their fishing spot, I was handed a coffee can and told to bail out the water that was steadily seeping into the boat.  Ummm...a little girl with a tin can is not much defense against a myriad of leaks in a boat but I was too scared of the huge gars they were hooking to do anything but bail!  Obviously, there was a good reason that boat had been scuttled!  Oh, the things kids used to be able to do.  Back in the day, we were kids.  We had adventures.  We had childhoods. 

  It is pretty funny how certain things can pull memories out of the cobwebs in the corners of our brains.  When you are doing something repetitively like throwing the net, the mind wanders and recalls delightful things from the past...or, more likely, I am just getting old and wishing for times past.  Either way, the fish, shrimp and crabs are plentiful and I plan on catching and sharing as many as I can.  Perhaps along the way, I can share a few happy memories, as well.

And the Bayou Takes....

   The last post I did was a few weeks ago simply because time and energy did not permit me to lollygag about on the computer.  Hurricane Francine did not hit here directly but did deal us a blow as far as damage to the pier.  My favorite place was in shambles and was clearly not a safe place to be.  While "The Bayou Provides" (previous post) still holds true, it also takes.  It takes time and effort to deal with problems that arise simply by trying to coexist with whatever the weather throws at us.  Son has been working tirelessly to repair the damage to the pier while I am putting the same effort into cleaning up the debris line left behind by the tidal surge.  I am getting too old for this!  

  The damage to the pier seemed, at first, to be only a surface matter but, once Son really looked, there were some underlying problems.  Some of the basic structure points had come undone so his job got massively larger.  The poor fellow has been redoing a lot of the bottom joists and stringers that had come unbolted.  Renailing planks further up the walkway became my job.  Finding our lost pier pieces became a family affair with us walking the shoreline in search of planks from both our pier and my brother's.  (He received much more damage than we did.)  We have yet to find the sturdy bench that Son had bolted to the pier.  The table remained intact and actually helped keep the pier together...somewhat...but that bench is elusive!  Where, oh, where did that thing float ashore?  Son was in hopes of finding it but did say he would build another if the need arises.  I miss my bench but, I have to admit, I have a great son!

  So...the Bayou also takes.  It and the weather make us ever aware of "what could happen" if the two collaborate to hit us with a fierce blow.  It takes effort.  It takes time.  It takes stamina (something that is wearing thin with me.)  And...it takes my bench to parts unknown!  Come back, traveling bench!  On a side note, if anyone sees this wayward bench, let me know! 

The Bayou Provides

   While life on a bayou is probably not for everyone, it seems to be perfect for me.  Most would rather be highly involved with their social lives and the hubbub that comes with it.  Again...not me.  I prefer the solitude that I can find here even to the point that I let the land and bayou provide for most of my needs.  While the garden is in a lull due to a recent drought, the water is teeming with "foodstuffs".  That is where I am spending the bulk of my time...on the pier.  Mullet, drumfish, redfish, trout, flounders and crabs are all within reach and shrimp!...yes, shrimp are plentiful this year!  A massive influx of shrimp this far from the salty Gulf is rare so all of the locals are taking full advantage of the occurrence!  We are throwing the net just about every waking hour and are filling freezers for future use.  Free food is always good.

  A thought bleeped through the brain yesterday as I was hauling in yet another netful of shrimp.  What in the world is this old lady with a bad heart doing down here on the pier?  I think I am pushing my strength to the limits this summer.  Just last week, after a great checkup with my doctor, I got the orders to "Just keep doing whatever you are doing as it seems to be paying off in great ways with your health."  I wonder if Doc knows that I am spending hours at a time throwing a net from the pier?  Still...I shall follow Doc's orders and keep doing what I am doing.  If nothing else, I shall eat good!  *Just a note here...yes, that is my gloved hand holding the shrimp to show the size.  I normally do not wear gloves but after throwing the net close to a hundred times each day, my hands were taking a beating.  Bleeding fingers are not a good thing. The gloves have come into use!

The Egg

 I never would have thought  a boiled egg (or any egg for that matter) could have such a profound effect on me but one has given me a great insight on just how nice folks are.  (Note here...I said folks and not people.  Folks are those who are family even if they are not related to you.  People...well...people can be related and still not be family.  Just my point of view.)  Anyway, back to that boiled egg and the niceties of life.  Mark and I have always made it a point to share whatever we have.  This was something taught to us by our parents and grandparents and we have carried it along the best that we can.  There have been times when our pantry was quite bare but, somehow, sharing was still top priority.  Mostly we shared with the elderly or those that were down on their luck.  Now that we are among the "elderly" we figure that our duties shall not go the wayside.  We still find those in need and share our "wealth".  It is the neighborly thing to do.  I figure that you cannot gripe about the sorry state of humanity if you are not willing to do your share to better it.

  That egg, however came about because of that sharing.  One sweet lady always finds a way to return the bounty.  Whenever we bring something to her, she sends something home to us.  Since she has chickens, we usually get fresh yard eggs!  There is nothing better!  Today as I was whipping up some pumpkin/pecan bars for Son, I brought out the eggs.  All was going well until the third egg.  It felt a mite odd to the touch and even odder to crack.  Yep, that egg was boiled!  Our sweet friend had inadvertently included a boiled egg with the fresh!  I had to sit down and giggle over that boiled egg!  Oh, sweet lady, I adore you!  When giving the eggs, she was surely not going to give a partial carton!  That, my friends, is what makes folks...well...folks.  They are just plumb nice.

  After finding the boiled egg among the fresh, I have decided that I want to be a "Ms. Teresa" when (if) I reach the age of 90.  I want to be kindhearted, generous and a bit quirky.  I want to give folks happy surprises along with every day gifts.  I want to brighten others days and give them reasons to giggle.  I want to be a "Ms. Teresa". 

Trashy Treasure?

  Living on the water gives us no end of items that have either been lost or tossed by hapless people.  All sorts of things wash up to the pier or into the marsh.  While I try to "fish" out most of the things simply to keep the shoreline clear, it is a never-ending process.  It is understandable during stormy weather as the tidal surge wreaks havoc on the opposite shore causing our side to be the recipient of whatever has fallen to the wrath but the everyday stuff is a tad confusing.  Just outside of my reach is (or was, at one time) a perfectly good tarpaulin.  (Yes, I am still one of those folks that use the proper name for the covers.  Most call them "tarps".)  It washed into the marsh and has since been ripped to pieces.  On the other side of the pier, someone obviously lost their shirt.  A white T-shirt wafts proudly like a flag on a clump of marsh.  Hopefully, both of these items will either rot away quickly or shift to be within my reach so I can fetch them as they are now useless...not that either one would have much more than garbage.  Still, it would be nice to get both out of the marsh.

  The other day, however, Mark was able to retrieve something of use!  As we ambled down the pier before he headed out in the little skiff for a morning of fishing, I spied something bright red hung up in the marsh. "Please, please go get whatever that is before you head out to fish!" I begged him.  He did and was pleasantly surprised to find a brand new gas can!  This thing still had tags attached and had never been used!  He carted it to the pier and I lugged it up the hillside to be cleaned for future use.  Score!!!

  Before I left the pier, however, I noticed that the nozzle on the can sure looked like some sort of odd critter...perhaps some quirky pup or maybe a strange duck complete with a monocle and a bright green hat!  Yep, that overactive imagination was at work here but, in all fairness, if I have to lug other folk's castaways up the hill, I might as well make light of it!  I wonder if anyone else has noticed the odd noggin on this gas can???  Nope?  Oh, well...