"We need 500 of these quickly!"

   Yes, indeed.  We do.  Darling Daughter made that comment when I sent a (poor) photograph of the Eastern Kingbird and told her that there were several in the yard doing fantastic aerobatic maneuvers around the old, dead oak tree.  I was a bit entranced by the birds' antics and figured there had to be a specific reason behind their actions. I watched as long as I could before I had to make a dash to the house due to being eaten alive by mosquitoes!  It was time for a bit of research on the type of bird and what it may be doing.  I found that the Eastern Kingbird eats those dratted mosquitoes!  Needless to say, I was elated but I continued reading and soon became even happier!  It seems that the birds love to eat swarming termites!  Oh, happy day!  These birds are heroes!

  By this time, it was just about dark.  I sent the photograph to Elizabeth and told her of my recent study.  Her comment was almost a desperate plea..."We need 500 of these quickly!"  Yep, the termites were swarming with a vengeance at her place.  She and Robbie were vacuuming termites from their house in hopes to rid the place of some.  That is when I decided to check our "outdoor termite light".  Oh, goodness!  To explain, years ago, I found that termites were attracted to lights so in the midst of "lights out" inside, a shop light was rigged far down the hillside in hopes that perhaps the critters would mosey on down there.  It worked!  Last night when I checked the light, thousands of termites were swirling under the light!  We literally had a termite cyclone down there!  What made it better was lizards and frogs were devouring many of the bugs!  Oh, yeah!  This was good. 

  I now figured out that the Kingbirds were catching the termites as they were coming out of the old oak tree to swarm. For two hours before dusk, the birds did their aerial stunts while consuming the termites. I hope the birds stick around and reproduce here.  I welcome them all!  Should I mention that I love Eastern Kingbirds?  

  Note...the photograph of the termites was taken from an upstairs window.  What appears to be a small tree decorated with white lights is definitely something far more sinister!  That is the shop light facing downward with a cyclone of termites flying underneath.  The light is glinting off their wings making interesting patterns albeit a bit disturbing when you know that those wings are attached to critters that are eating the houses down here on the Coast.

Hope Returns

   Early this morning after a drizzly rain, I slipped out into the small gardens to see if any of my newly planted seeds had sprouted.  I am late getting the plots ready since I am on "light duty" for the rest of this year.  No digging means no rows which, in turn, means no gardens. Still, where there's a will...there is usually a way so I did the next best thing of planting without well turned soil.  Armed with a trowel and a small hand rake, I planted.  Now we shall wait and see if the feeble efforts turn into something durable.  

  The garden, however, was not the highlight of my early morning traipsing.  Again, that light duty is also tied tightly with limits as to where I can go unaccompanied.  The pier (also known as "my favorite sunrise place") is definitely out of my realm but that does not mean that I cannot edge my way to the clearing where I can view the length of the path and pier.  I did and I saw an old friend just waiting at this end of where the pier starts.  A Great White Egret was resting while watching the mudflats for anything she could have for breakfast.  This is a bird that I named "Hope" several years ago when the whole country was in the midst of the COVID scare.  That was the same time that I had a stroke and was bound to the Small Gardens for the duration of my recovery.  (Much the same as now but for different reasons.)  Hope and I got to know each other rather well since I was deemed a "non-threat".  She would come to visit each day and we would while away an hour or so just being together.  Neither of us made much effort to "tame" the other but it was like we had an understanding.  Now...she is back.

  Hope looked a little worse for wear after the stormy weather of the past few days. Her feathers were ruffled and she looked tired...much like me.  I am not sure the bird recognized me after my absence but there was no forgetting her.  She helped me before and I almost got the feeling she understood my plight once again as she came a bit closer to where I was sitting.  There, we visited...me on the upturned old boat on shore while she stopped about twenty feet from me.  We stayed...I talked...she listened and watched for bull minnows in the marsh.  Good friends are like that.  Good friends just care.

A Dangerous Beauty

   For as long as I can remember, Flame Lilies (also known as Fire Lilies or Gloriosa Lilies) have adorned the gardens of many family members.  Pop had them.  Aunt Marie had them.  The "Lamey Twins" had them.  Just about every yard had the things growing (and often growing out of control).  My lilies have gotten out of control.  They are everywhere.  Their stunning blooms brighten all corners of the gardens and have sort of taken over the entire place.  I have got to figure a way of putting a damper on the rapid proliferation of these things or I may as well give up on any diversity in the plants.  They are getting that bad.

  Now...as beautiful as they are, comes the bad part.  These things are highly poisonous!  Don't eat them!  Don't even taste them!  And, surely, do not let the kiddos or the family pet gnaw on them.  All parts are toxic and are deadly to both humans and animals.  Supposedly, only porcupines can tolerate the plant and, unfortunately, I have none around here to help me stifle the growth of the lilies.  

  With no help in sight, I suppose I shall have to dig and destroy many of the lovely lilies.  It saddens me to do so but they just cannot take over the whole place.  Just a note...if you do handle any part of the lily, wear gloves or, at least, make sure to thoroughly wash your hands!  Ummm...this comes from someone who never wears gloves and does not wash the hands after each plant.  Oh, well...pray for me!

Giving Up Is Not An Option

   Early this morning, I headed to the little Frog Pond to see if our resident watersnake had returned.  Since I could not find her, my thoughts turned to other things...frogs!  The green treefrogs and American toads were singing their beautiful songs last night so the pond was full!  One, in particular, caught my eye as it was far up on one of the grasses.  That was big for a green treefrog!  I admired it for a bit before ambling back to the porch.  As I went passed the storeroom, another critter caught my eye.  A cicada was struggling to keep ahold of the siding as it morphed from its underground phase to its full adult stage.  The poor thing had half pushed its way out of its shed and was dangling precariously backwards!  Its grip on the siding had failed.  The poor thing was not able to right itself from this awkward angle causing it to not be able to finish its job of pulling from the old exoskeleton.  It was stuck.  While this situation was bad enough for the critter, I knew if it fell, things would be drastically worse.  A cicada has to hang vertically for its wings to form and dry. 

  Just as I was pondering whether I should go against Son's advice of never interfering with nature, the poor cicada dropped to the ground.  Oh, geez!  It had fallen right near an ant nest!  Poor little fellow!  Without thinking about that sage advice, I put my hand down next to the critter and allowed it to cling to me.  Now what??  It was time to find a safe place for our friendly critter.  Ahh, yes!  The small, potted quince tree would have to suffice as a temporary "hospital" for the bug.

  The little guy seemed well pleased with its new location and clung to the bark like a boss!  I kept watch on the progress and offered the occasional "moral support" that was needed to finish the process of molting.  It was an amazing experience to watch as the wings unfurled and then were inflated (yes, they inflate) then harden.  This took about an hour. During the hardening, I was a tad worried about its right wing but, in the end, the wing was normal. The adult cicada was gorgeous! Soon, it was able to take flight!  I look forward to hearing its call (or rather the calls of hundreds in the treetops).  I guess I will just have to take it that one of those calls is from the rescued critter.

My Backyard "Tower"

   Being tightly bound to the Small Gardens has made me start looking for points of interest that I might ordinarily overlook.  We all do that.  We become so hung up in what we "have" to do that we have a tendency to forget what we "need" to do for ourselves...those things that inspire, induce tranquility or simply cause us to "stop and smell the roses".  Having the title of "Queen of the Small Gardens" imposed upon me during my time of healing has brought my "workload" to a crawl.  Sorry, being lazy both hurts and helps.  Physically, I ache from suddenly becoming more or less inactive.  Mentally, the brain is whirling with fantastical tales.  This seems to be something inherited from my maternal grandmother.  It was passed to my Aunt Helen and then instilled in my brain through contact with the two of them.  They had the ability to create magical scenes for any child who wished to listen and believe.  I did both.

  That said, yesterday, as I was strolling through my garden domain (thing queen here!), I spied the cupola that sits atop of a house which is probably a quarter of a mile from my house.  The Bayou is between the two houses. In my previous hikes along the marshline, the cupola definitely sat on top of that house.  The whole house was visible and, while I thought the thing was neat, it never inspired any creative ideas.  It was just a cupola that would need a difficult paint job as the need arose.  Since my view was from a different angle and the cupola was mostly hidden behind the grape arbor and tree line, it suddenly became a "garden tower" and thoughts soon drifted to tales that the aforementioned ladies had shared.  Ahh...faerie tales...the Land of Enchantment...a little girl's happy time...all came tumbling out of the dusty corners of the brain.  

  Who knew that a neighbor's cupola could stir the creativeness to a point that I wish to write, paint and recreate some of those long-lost tales?  Perhaps, this void in my usual busy day can be filled building ideas instead of greenhouses.  Maybe, the seeds that I should be planting are ideas and not the start of plants.  Possibly, I needed a time to slow down and find a different, more pleasing role for myself.  It is a thought anyway and one that I shall seriously consider.  Healing can take many different routes, it seems.  So...as Queen, I shall start or, at least, make an attempt.

The Queen Is Back

  Being somewhat limited in my actions, once again, has made me pull out that crown and dub myself as "Queen of the Small Gardens".  This is not by my choice but rather one made by those who care about me.  "You have to stop doing everything and let your body heal."  These are orders given by those who have more sense than I do apparently.  I fully admit to doing things that an "old lady" should not be doing but...putting a roof on the lean-to seems like a simple thing.  So does pushing a lawnmower for four hours or bailing out the tiny Frog Ponds.  I just do not like asking for help for things that I can do for myself.  That said...I have had to ask.  I have had to stop.  I have a year to be lazy....lazy hurts...bad.  I have always felt much better being active even if it was overactive.  That said, my whole Queen of the Small Gardens is even a bit on the downside as I am not allowed to work the gardens to my satisfaction.  Lazy...I have to be lazy.  Oh, did I mention that lazy hurts?  It does.

  So...since my gardening work has come nigh on to a halt, the gardens decided to take things in hand.  It saddened me to see the empty rows, the barren flower beds and the weedy raised boxes but...this fretting was all for naught.  The gardens planted themselves!  Perhaps, these are not the plants that would have been so tediously tended but they are gorgeous and I am appreciative.  Mother Nature knew I needed a boost so she sprinkled wildflower seeds everywhere!  (Some folks would argue that my wildflower beds are nothing more than unkempt weed patches but, to me at the moment, they are lovely!)

         

  Some of the prettiest "gardens" are beneath the potted fig trees. These are trees that I rooted back couple of years ago and just never had the opportunity to transplant them into the yard. So...they are still in pots.  BUT!  Underneath those fig trees are lovelies!  Wood Sorrel or Oxalis plants are thriving!  Each morning, I am greeted with hundreds of pinkish blooms! The blooms are said to symbolize joy and renewal.  Both seem appropriate simply for the feeling I get each day just by seeing the delicate flowers and that my body is trying to do a bit of rebuilding.  The heart shaped leaves are said to bring good luck and heart health....both which are always needed.  I am taking my lovely "Fig Tree Gardens" as a sign that this year of healing is going to bring me back to where I need to be.  But, for now, I shall be the lazy (but aching) Queen whose realm is going to have to fend for itself for the duration.  

Faerie House? Gnome Home? Just A Stinky Mushroom?

  Since I am back to being Queen of the Small Gardens instead of the Swamp Queen, I search for things to occupy the brain all within my realm.  This is getting exceedingly difficult since my realm now is quite small and devoid of the usual massive "rainforest" type plants.  Those perished with the winter freezes due to insufficient heat in the greenhouse.  (Never trust that flood lights can replace heat lamps.  They are not the same...but I used what I had on hand.)  That being the situation, I now have to search high and low for things to entertain myself.  As I slowly meandered the garden path, I felt depersonalized.  It almost seemed as if I did not belong here.  This was one of the first times ever that I overlooked what I told others to actually "see".  Something was just not right.  I entered the fenced vegetable plot that was usually filled with cabbages, broccoli and cauliflower heads just waiting to be harvested.  The rows sat empty....and sad.  Ok, so this was not helping my mood at all!  Everything needed to be fixed starting with my attitude!  That decided, I was determined to find that overlooked point of interest and, with it, rid myself of this almost feeling of self-pity!  Nope, that was not going to take hold and linger long.  It had to be remedied and fast!  I searched for that one elusive element that would set things right.

  That diversion came in the form of the lowly Clathrus Columnatus which is commonly known as a type of stinkhorn.  Yep.  One of those stinky mushrooms that most folks detest.  I admit to them not being a favorite of mine but this one bemused me.  I had found something that started the wheels of the brain to start a slow whir.  There was something about this stinkhorn that looked vaguely familiar.  I had to dig deep into the dusty corners of the mind...back behind the cobwebs and dust bunnies...to stumble upon a recollection of where I had encountered anything that triggered a slight memory of resemblance.  Then it hit me.  Way back in the day when I was a tot (eons ago), my Aunt Helen spent hours with me making faerie houses and gnome homes.  She had me convinced that these beings were real and lived among us all while unseen.  (I still kinda/sorta believe!)  We would create fantastical little houses from whatever was on hand and make pretty gardens of mosses, tiny flowers and pebbles to complete the perfect faerie/gnome paradise.  My found mushroom reminded me of those happiest of times spent in nature with a favorite aunt.  It was marvelous!  I could literally feel my doldrums being lifted and my spirits starting to soar again.  The Queen is back even if she has a smaller realm.  Let the imagination fly and let the kingdom flourish with magical and whimsical moments of joy and peace.