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.

Missing Aunt Helen....

   Somewhere down the line, Aunt Helen must have really made a great impression on me.  She had the ability to see beauty in even the most mundane of things, lived her life with a great deal of imagination and simply being authentic all the while being spontaneous and a bit quirky.  If something appealed to her, it was worked into her life without worry that others would sneer at her.  She wore flowers in her hair, used herbs and decorated her place with color, gardens and things from the past.  She pretty much "invented" that "Cottagecore" lifestyle about a half century before it even was given a name.   To say Aunt Helen left an indelible mark on my life is an understatement.  This is coming more apparent as I age and give up trying to meet the approval of others.  

  The Little Bayou House has slowly undergone a change from meeting the needs of my kids entertaining their friends to being all out eccentric.  If something appeals to me, it is added to the decor.  Granted everything has to be functional but a bit of quirkiness is the drawing card.  Folks realize this and often gift oddities to me.  "This was great aunt's teacup.  I hate to just throw it away but it does not fit with my place." or "Grandpa had this for years but I have no idea what it is."  Yep, Great Aunt's teacup and Grandpa's plumb bob have found a home.

  All of this influence came flooding over me recently as I sat in my great-grandmother's rocking chair just reminiscing over times past.  Things spilled from the cobwebbed corners of my brain where they have been stored just waiting for the opportune moment to bring a smile.  Thoughts of Aunt Helen soon took over and the heart filled to the brim with the special moments that I was able to spend with her.  These visits were far and few in between since she did not live nearby and was often halfway around the world but our connection remained even into adulthood.  I miss her greatly.

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.  

Times have sure changed

  Occasionally, I visit the social media world just to catch up on folks and their every day doings.  It is quite apparent that if you wish to find out anything, run through that "newsfeed" and it will all be laid out for you.  No one tries to have privacy any more.  Everything is there...what people eat, their choice of clothing for the day, their arguments, their pet peeves and even the color of their underwear.  Come on, folks.  Some things need to remain with you and not be plastered all over the web.  Granted, I pour out my heart on this blog but I have yet, and will not, post private things.  Sorry.  If you want that, you will have to go elsewhere....oh, try social media!  You won't find my private life there but you will find enough from others to make your head spin.

  Speaking of privacy and social media, modesty has also gone the wayside.  There is nary a bit of decency in some of the "selfies" posted.  To be honest, it is appalling not appealing.  This whole bit brought to mind a rather humorous occurrence so many years ago.  It seems that when my grandparents paid to have a photograph made of their youngest daughter in her early teens, there was some tension over the instructions given by the photographer.  Helen was a beauty and had on a lovely gown.  The photographer told her to pull down the ruffly shoulder straps for an "off-shoulder" look.  She was then told to look over her should in a "sultry" gaze.   My grandmother immediately went over, pulled the sleeve up some and told Helen to smile sweetly.  In the meantime, my grandfather had a "friendly" talk with the photographer about how Helen was far too young for that! The photo session proceeded and the results were lovely.  

  Today, parents acting like this would never fly.  I see parents dressing their preschoolers in more provocative outfits than what Helen wore that day but the world sees it as perfectly fine.  The kids' photographs are plastered on social media and everyone oohs and ahhs.  No one thinks of the message that these tiny tots are receiving through all of this.   It is no wonder that pre-teens, teens and young adults see nothing wrong with what they share with the world.  It is a wonder, however,  that parents cannot understand where their teenagers got the idea that it was ok.  Hmmm.  I guess I am just feeling my age and have an intense yearning for days past when modesty, decency and self respect were all considered admirable.  

Cloud Windows

  Years ago, my aunt told me that whenever I saw a hole in the clouds, it was a window from Heaven.  "Whenever you see a hole like that, wave hello to your grandmother because surely she is looking down from Heaven to check on you!"  For the longest time, I did wave at the sky.  Hopefully, my grandmother saw me waving at her since I missed her terribly.  Then, later, someone mentioned that the hole in the clouds was a stairway to Heaven.  With that, I searched for stairs leading up to the sky but never found them so I went back to waving.  If I could not climb stairs to visit Grandmother, I would have to resort to the old method of sending my hello.

  The other day, I was on the pier when I noticed the sun gleaming through the clouds in one particular spot.  The dark clouds around the bright spot were ominous.  Rain threatened at any moment but all I could think about was my parents, grandparents and all the other folks in my life that had passed.  It has been decades and decades since my aunt made mention of the cloud holes but I have never forgotten her simple message.  It was not about waving, visiting or missing folks.  It is about keeping memories alive.  That is good enough for me....but...just in case Grandmother was peering through that hole, I gave a little wave.

The Little Glade in the Woods

  Far down below the canebrake, there is one little spot that is my "feel good" space.  This little area is somewhat secluded from the rest of the world as it is surrounded by woods except for the entrance path.  It is here that I can escape from the chaos of every day life.   The solitude gives me a time to collect the thoughts and face the day with renewed energy.

  Recently, I headed to the little glade to check on a rat snake that had been hanging around the area.  I was in hopes that the snake would stay and keep my little secret glade free from any varmints.  While I did not see the snake, there were two rather lovely mushrooms that had sprung up right in the middle of the sun dappled area.  The mushrooms reminded me of something from the story of "Alice in Wonderland" which started the brain to whirl around with a billion thoughts.  All sorts of fantastical tales started weaving together but I had no one to share the tales with.  Oh, how I would have loved to have the Grandlittles here so we could have storytime in the little glade.  I am sure a few gnomes, faeries, pixies and elves would have been happy to join in our little party.  Then, a sudden sadness enveloped me as I realized that would not be happening any time soon.

  The little glade would be such a neat place to have a lazy afternoon picnic with storytime.  I guess I have far too much of my grandmother and my Aunt Helen in me.  Those two ladies always found time to entertain me with their grand tales, a cup of tea and maybe a few special cookies.  I always had hopes that I would be the one to carry on their tradition.  It doesn't seem that is ever to be.  Instead, my tales will go untold and the magic will stay in the Little Glade in the Woods.

A Different World Altogether

  Son has often said that it does not take a lot to entertain me.  This can be taken either way...good or bad...so I choose to look at it in a positive way.  To me, it means that my imagination has not died with the influx of artificial stimulation.  Anything can act as a trigger to take me to some faraway, magical place.  It must be the influence of my late Aunt Helen.  She never bored of daily life because she had the ability to be a thousand miles away in her thoughts.  She taught me well.  

  This morning's hike was a damp one.  A thick fog shrouded the entire Bayou muffling footsteps and holding the sights and scents close around me.  Making my way around the back path, the heady aroma of citrus blossoms mingled with the enticing scent of trailing wisteria blooms engulfed me.  This was enough to start the imagination but the sight of moss-covered bricks sent it into overdrive.  The brain found that moss oddly alluring.  Suddenly the whole world whirled around in a myriad of thoughts of romance, moonlit walks and happy endings.  Perhaps these were from tales told by grandparents so many years ago or perhaps it was just all of the elements of the day coming together in harmony but I was thrown into a mystical, magical world for a bit.  It was a place that was hard to leave.  That first step back into reality was difficult.  I wanted to throw the day's chores to the wind and stay in my "happy place" for the day.

  It is nice it to simply waltz into a different life now and again...to let mundane things become exquisite...to find happiness at your own backdoor.  I think everyone needs an Aunt Helen at some point in life.   She is needed to teach us all how to imagine what can be. 

 

Just a clump of moss...

  Back when I was just a toddler, I had an aunt who used to fill my head with all sorts of mysterious ideas.  With just a word, Aunt Helen could spark the imagination and lead me into a wonderland filled with mystical creatures, beautiful faeries and magical baubles.  This whimsical forest held all of the fairy tales ever written.  Each time we entered, the tales came to life and she and I became part of them.  More than once, we danced with faeries, climbed to the top of beanstalks or fought off a mean ogre.  The Land of Enchantment was usually none other than some hidden spot where Aunt Helen found a piece of moss growing.  We would gather pretty stones, colored leaves and maybe a flower or two to embellish our garden.  Once we had it to our liking, we would sit while she told me a tale of some faeries and their noble deeds.  I would be totally engrossed in her tales and firmly believed all she said.  After the storytelling, we would act out parts or rush to the house to make "tea and crumpets" (which was usually nothing more than tea and vanilla wafers).  Our grand tea party would be held out in our mossy glade while she told more sweet tales.  This was an amazing thing for a child to experience....especially a kid that grew up on a farm where life was all too real.  Work began as soon as you could walk, play was limited and life and death was a daily thing.  My escapes to the magical kingdoms of Aunt Helen's imagination was a special treat.

  Today as I was cutting firewood, I came across a small clump of carpet moss.  The sight of the moss brought back a flood of memories with Aunt Helen being in the midst of them.   The deep green color, the softness of the tiny fronds and the coolness of touch all made me want to go back to the days when things were simpler and a kid could find happiness in a make-believe world.  As an adult, I had always wanted to be "Aunt Helen" and share the wonderment with little ones but, alas, with all of the stuff being shoved at kids right and left, there is little time to be spent dreaming.  Kids are bombarded at an early age with sensory overload and they cannot separate themselves from it.  Gone are the days when the imagination could take you to another world.  Oh, how I long for simpler times.

Land Of Make Believe

  There has been a resurgence in the interest in "Faerie Gardens".  If you wander around any department store, you can find any number of miniature items to decorate a small garden as such.  Tiny doors, benches, lights and even figurines all line the shelves.  These fanciful little items are all enticing to those of us who have wild imaginations.  Even as adults, some of us live in our own little fantasy lands of make believe.  While I admit to making Faerie Gardens as a child and then again when my daughter was a tot, I have not had the inclination to create one recently.  Now that I have a granddaughter, the thought has started rattling around in the brain.  No, not the "store-bought" sort of garden with plastic doodads but rather a magical little place decorated with mosses, ferns, pretty stones and such.  A regular Bayou Faerie Garden!

  Years ago when I was just a tot, Aunt Helen first introduced me to the idea.  She used no fancy-schmancy trinkets purchased at a shop.  Her gardens were "originals"!  Her own kids were older and had no interest in such childish pursuits but at 4 years old, I was a willing, if not eager, participant. Aunt Helen and I searched for the perfect spot, then set out to find our decorations.  Sometimes this endeavor took days to complete!  Pretty pink stones to be used as stools, mosses to carpet the garden, bright leaves to provide shade from the scorching sunshine and a large shell to be installed as a pool.  While mosses lined most of the floor, one area was always scraped clean to create a ballroom dance floor!  Our faeries loved to cut a rug and needed a nice sized dance floor!  It was all great fun and kept the resident toddler rather busy and out of every one's hair for days!  Then, when the garden was complete, I was allowed to use it as my play area.  Usually, however, I did more daydreaming than play.

  Sometimes even yet when I find a mossy log, the memory of my special bond with Aunt Helen floods the brain.  It is at that time that I wish to create another Faerie Garden like we did  back in the day.  No gaudy trinkets would ever cast a shadow on our gardens and none ever will.  Maybe Bayou Faeries are just a classier bunch of magical beings and do not need all of the gobbledygook of today's world.  If perchance I have a bit of quiet time with the grandprincess,  I will see if she would like to create a garden with her MawMaw.  Probably not as this cannot compare to all of the bells and whistles of today's toys.  To my way of thinking, that is sad.  Kids need imaginative play without any outside interference.  I might start searching for the perfect mossy log even if it is just for my own imagination to slip back into time to be with Aunt Helen for a short while.

Nature's Compass Is Broken!

  There is an Old Wive's Tale that says if you are lost in the woods and need a quick compass, check for moss on a tree. According to this snippet of wisdom, moss will always be found growing on the north side of a tree.  Hence, if you find moss and the direction north, it is an easy task to find all other directions.  Face north, right hand will be east, left will be west and your back will be south.  You will still be lost but you will know your directions even though you will look rather peculiar! Yep... this is easy.  Except here on the Bayou.  Here, moss grows anywhere it pleases.  North, south, east, west, somewhere in between, on top, beneath...anywhere is fair game.  So, that said, don't trust Bayou moss to get you out of the woods.  It ain't happening!  Yep, it would just be a wise move to pick up a compass if you are prone to lose your way when wandering about in the woods.  They are cheap and relatively reliable....unlike moss.

  I was out back cutting grass when I spied and old stump covered with the loveliest green moss.  The stump was indeed covered.  All sides...not just the north.  It was a good thing that I was not lost!  But, being one easily amused, I dropped to my knees to investigate the fuzzy stuff.  Ever since I was a youngster, mosses fascinate me.  There is just something magical about the way the stuff grows.  A lot of that idea was instilled in me by my Aunt Helen.  She always had a knack of seeing things a bit differently from the rest of the world.  A lot of folks, nowadays, would probably criticize her and say she wore "rose colored glasses".  Me?  I adored the lady and, to this day, I am glad she taught me how to find the beauty in even the most mundane things...like mosses.

  Not many folks ever get "up close and personal" with mosses, algae and lichens.  These things are all lumped together by most folks and are totally overlooked as things of beauty.  In my eyes, they are all perfectly magnificent! 

  While on my knees photographing the moss, I was able to actually see what others miss.  This clump of moss had its spore capsules ready to burst open and spread its mossy self around the stump.  Mosses do not bloom like plants but reproduce by making spores.  In the picture, the little stalked things that resemble some weird flowers are actually the spore capsules.  They shoot the tiny spores out into the air and life begins anew.  It was a rather interesting find.  

  If I could give one bit of advice to anyone interested, it would be to "get out there and look at the world around you."  When you start to really look for things, you will actually "see" what you have been missing. There are so many things that just get overlooked during our hectic days....interesting things....magical things.  Things that Aunt Helen would have found beautiful...just like I do.

Lost in the mist of time

  It seems that speech has changed a good bit in the past few generations.  Some old letters of my mom's were shown to my two youngest kids (who are adults now) and all I heard were fits of giggles. A few of these letters were ones that were exchanged between Mom, (Ruth) who was away at college, and her little sister, Helen.  Helen was still in high school at the time.  Ruth and Helen had their own "language" that started as verbal conversations during their childhood but then spilled over through college years.  Why, as matter of fact, even some of the letters and conversations in their later years contained snippets of phrases that made no sense to the rest of the world. They were the only ones who knew the meaning of their made-up words. One of the words that caused hysterics was "gaddlelack".  We never really figured out what the word meant but, invariably, it was in almost every letter that was exchanged between the two young girls.  Even in one of the final letters ever to be sent, the word was scribbled on the sidelines and then stated to be a household word with Helen's grandkids.  Another thing that struck my kids as being cute was the nicknames of "Bo" (Ruth) and "Mo" (Helen).

  Another comical bit written by Helen was the explanation of the stars and moon.  She stated that her class was studying the stars and Mars but that her teacher had it all wrong.  She went on to explain that stars were actually the Moon's eggs and space was a large nest.  When an egg became rotten, the moon would kick it out of the nest thus creating falling stars!  Wow!  I have never heard space explained as such and figured that I would have liked studying astronomy a lot more if that was what was taught!

  One of the last letters that my mom received from Helen was heartbreaking.  She managed to put on a cheery act but told of how she was hurting and how easy it would be to just give up.  This letter, like the others, did contain a bit of their "language" but was a far cry from the comical creations of their younger days.  I sat reading through this bunch of papers and realized that I was watching their entire lives play out before my eyes.  From happy youngsters, to young women, to old ladies..these two kept their close relationship strong through written letters.  Then I thought of emails, texts, phone messages, digital photographs and realized what the world is missing.  My grandchildren will not have the insight of my life like my kids got today of their grandmother and their great-aunt.  Things will be lost as we are becoming more a people of the moment with nothing lasting to pass on to our kids and grandkids.  No longer will it be a rite of passage to sit looking at paper photographs.  No longer will letters be read and reread.  No longer will secret "languages" be shared from generation to generation.  A lot will be lost due to this thing called progress.  A lot will be lost forever.

Faerie Land Delight!

As you know, I roam about the Bayou and hillside just exploring and enjoying life.  I am always enamored by the world around me..those tiny things that most folks just pass by without ever really seeing.  Sometimes the world beneath our feet, under the leaves or on a dead log can be so fascinating! The wheels in my brain (that amazing thing called imagination) turn and turn!  I can just see all sorts of fantastical things that might come to life given a half of chance!  When I returned from one such walk, I happened upon a whimsical faerie ornament left here by my daughter, Elizabeth.  This ornament and the recent walk sparked a memory.

I had a lovely aunt that had a fanciful imagination as well.  Aunt Helen could draw most anyone into a realm of wonderment!  I recall that as a child I truly believed in faeries after spending a bit of time with her.  Her soft spoken tales of faraway lands, quaint villages and adventurous escapades brought me into a different world.  There I could escape the chores of farm life and be whatever my imagination could dream!  One of my favorite things to do with Aunt Helen was to create "Faerie Houses" and "Faerie Gardens".  Here the faeries would dance the night away to the sounds of the cricket chirps which were magically turned into beautiful music! Their gossamer wings would flit through the air and their happy laughter would fill the night! The gardens were made in some out-of-the-way nook where soft mosses and tiny mushrooms grew.  Everyone who was anyone in the Faerie World knew that mushrooms and moss were required in the gardens.  Aunt Helen and I would collect pretty stones, bright colored leaves and other lovely accessories for these gardens.  Then the decorating of the area began!  As we beautified our "garden" or made the "house",  she would tell a most magical tale of faerie princesses and handsome suitors!  I know that I was not the only little girl that shared this special time with Aunt Helen but in my young mind, she was mine..all mine!

This lady sparked an active imagination inside of me.  She let me know that it was ok to have a dream world where I could escape and live out exciting tales that only existed in my mind!  My faerie princesses could dance in magic slippers, my heroic princes could battle evil ogres and dragons were always nice!  Aunt Helen...I miss you!  I miss our times together but the imagination never left me.  Those Faerie Houses and Faerie Gardens are just waiting to be rediscovered and the intrigue is waiting to be passed on to another generation.  Some day...some day.

Old Letters and Bunny Rabbits

You might rightly be wondering just what in the world old letters and bunny rabbits have in common and I am here to tell you...absolutely nothing!  Nothing that is unless you were at the Little Bayou House today.  It rained again today..or better said..it poured again here today.  So much so that each time I tried to make my way to the pier, I was soaked!  Nevertheless, I did head outside to the gardens.  It was too soggy to do more than wade through the wet grass but an old friend came out to meet me.  Mama Rabbit wandered over to where I was standing and curiously eyed me.  I am surprised that she was not scared out of her wits by my constant slapping of the mosquitoes that decided to dine upon my blood but she edged ever closer.  Once she was within arm's  reach, I so wanted to reach down and pet her but instinct told me that might frighten her away forever so I restrained my impulse and just watched her.  From the mere three feet distance, I could see even the smallest of whiskers on her face. I watched as she wiggle her nose at me..trying to catch my scent.  She has a small nick in the tip of her left ear and a scar that runs just below her right eye.  Not once did she show fear of my presence. This all started me reminiscing of days long gone.

Earlier today, during one of the more fierce thunderstorms, I went through a box of old papers of my mother's. In it were several letters that she had written to her sister, my Aunt Helen.  I am one of the folks that finds it hard to part with some things and these letters were not destined to the trash bin.  After unfolding one letter, I read one paragraph about me as a youngster.  Mom was relating to Aunt Helen about a time where a mother rabbit brought her babies out for me to hold.  I must have been rather young but I do remember the incident well.  The rabbit evidently knew that I meant no harm and probably considered me the perfect babysitter.  She would have a bit of rest from that rambunctious brood!  Mom went on to tell how I held other critters as well.  Squirrels, snakes, birds and even fox kits.

While I stood in the wet grass talking to Mama Rabbit, the contents of that letter were being replayed in my head.  Animals are supposed to have an natural fear of humans.  Why not of me?  Is there some innate sixth sense that lets critters know that I do not wish to harm them?  Have they just grown so accustom to my presence that they have lost all fear?  I am not sure but I am a bit inwardly pleased that my furry and feathered friends do feel the connection.

So you see, old letters and bunny rabbits do have something in common even if only here on the Bayou.  Mom, Aunt Helen, rainy days, bunny rabbits, old letters and friendships all have something in common..even if it is only me.