Flashback!

   Our weather is all over the place.  Recently, it seemed as if spring had made its appearance and was ready to stay.  All that did was set me into a frenzy of getting gardens ready, planting and...taking down the temporary greenhouse that had done well housing all of the potted plants during our (brief) "ice age".  I pushed a little too hard and it came back to bite me.  Yep, the temperature dropped for a lovely one night but that one night was enough to cause a bit of fretting.  Son and I covered the plants the best we could with some painter's drop cloths and called it a night.  We hoped for the best.  

  The plants did well under their blankets which were gathered back as soon as the sun popped out bright and warm.  Son gathered the huge tarps for me to launder before storing for the next need.  I carefully shook each tarp to make sure no treefrogs or lizards had snuggled in for the night then tossed two at a time in the washing machine.  All went well....until that last load.  Again, I shook the tarp vigorously before loading it into the machine, however, I guess it was not strong enough.  When that tarp was hauled out and thrown in the dryer, I spied a black "stick".  My heart sank.  Surely that was not one of my sweet praying mantids!  It definitely was NOT a frog nor a lizard but some sort of bug.  As I examined the corpse, I realized that it was a what Mom called a Devil's Walking Stick and Dad called a Spit Tobacco Bug.  Those are both names for a Two-striped Walking Stick or Stick Bug.  As much as these are not favorites of mine (they do "spit"), I felt terrible about killing the poor thing.  After all, it was just seeking a bit of warmth from the freezing night temperatures.  

  This all did bring flashbacks of some 40 years ago.  My oldest son was forever taking hikes with my Aunt Marie. He and "Aunt Ri Ri" would often go critter hunting much like my grandson and I do.  The only difference was...my son would pocket most of the critters without Aunt Ri Ri knowing...also...without me knowing.  The critters, along with rocks, leaves, sticks or anything else he found interesting were stashed for good keeping right in those pockets.  Now, I was not in the habit of checking my kiddo's pockets before washing his clothes so you can see where this is going.  Yep, I found many, many waterlogged critters in that washing machine....usually dead.  It was not fun.  The inanimate objects were not a problem but sticking my hand in the machine to grab ahold of a water bloated lizard or earthworm was not the nicest thing.  I literally had to make him start "unloading" his pockets at the front door!

  Finding the dead walking stick in the washer was not fun but it did evoke a giggle about the memories from long ago.  It is probably a good thing that I am not too overly squeamish when it comes to things like this.  Perhaps having a curious little boy who loved to shove things in his pockets for safe keeping got me over a lot of things.  Gotta love him!  He may be grown now but the memories of him being a toddler live on and bring lots of smiles.

Too Early To Be Thinking Christmas?

   For years now, a small holly tree has been in a pot near the greenhouse.  The tree was one that my aunt gave to me.  Her tree was huge and I can remember how difficult it was to control the small trees growing beneath it.  This is English Holly and, sad to say, it is is invasive.  The tree is one of those plants that will soon take over a place and limit the growth of native trees due to it consuming space at a rapid pace,  This is the sole reason that my tree is in a pot.  The roots are contained in a small space and cannot compete with the native trees.  However!  This tree also has very viable seeds.  Every last berry seems to sprout.  Thankfully, the small tree has not bloomed nor produced any seed-filled berries...until this year.  Oops!  I will definitely have to make sure that none drop to the ground.

  This is also known as Christmas Holly as it is the classic berry filled branch that is seen in almost every decoration found worldwide.  Growing up, holly was used around our house during the holidays.  We always used the native hollies even though they were not as vibrant as the English Holly.  We did not have this "fancy" tree in our yard.  But, then, we were not fancy!  Our farmhouse was just that...a rustic farmhouse so it only made sense to have rustic decorations...a fresh cut cedar (or pine) tree, some paper chains, homemade ornaments and holly stuck in mason jars filled the house.  It makes me giggle to see how many folks now seem to think their "rustic farmhouse decorating" is the "real" thing.  Sorry, it is drastically different...lovely but not true farmhouse. I pretty much have always incorporated those rustic, simple decorations in the Little Bayou House even with a few added glitzy things.

  This year, it appears that I will be going all fancy with some English Holly (stuck in a mason jar).  This is only to get rid of the berries so they do not drop, sprout and make a bajillion baby holly trees.  One is obviously enough to get those Christmas decorations!  Note...folks, be sensible when discarding live holly branches after the holidays.  Those berries may still be viable and could create problems...or use native holly and let the seeds do their thing. 

A Bit Smelly But Lovely!

   For as long as I can remember (and that is a long, long time), there has been a bunch of plants that just pop up randomly in the yard.  I never know where new ones might sprout and the old ones never seem to die.  They go dormant in the winter but, come springtime, they start growing with a vengeance.  The plants must be relatively hardy as I do nothing in the way of care for them and will actually cut them down with the lawnmower, to make matters worse. Still, these plants grow.  And grow.  They are sort of like the kudzu of the Bayou but without the overpowering part.  For years, I had no idea of what the plant was called.  My sweet Aunt Marie gave me the first start when I first moved to the Bayou from the farm across the road.  I actually never think she told me the name of the plant.  We both loved gardening so sharing plants was the thing to do...names or no names.

  Well, the sharing has continued even though I am the "Old Lady of the Bayou" now.  Recently, I asked Darling Daughter if she would like a start of the plants and she was elated.  "Yes!  I love plants!"  Oh, the tradition continues which makes me so happy!  Well, I started thinking it was a shame to give an "unnamed" plant to someone so a bit of research started.  With the magic of the Internet, I was able to identify the plants!  These hard-to-kill, smelly, yet lovely things are Clerodendrum Bungeis.  Since that is a bunch for an old brain to remember, I found the common names of these things.  Rose Glory Bowers, Cashmere Bouquets or Mexican Hydrangeas are all listed as common names depending on region.  Personally, the Mexican Hydrangea fits wonderfully as the plants grow similar to hydrangeas that we are accustomed to seeing in gardens. 

  Tomorrow will find me digging some of the smaller plants, potting them and preparing them for a jaunt to Darling Daughter's place.  I am sure that my son-in-law will be on "plant retrieval" duty some time this week as there are still tomato plants awaiting their transport, too.  Goodness, it is nice to know that I can share things from the garden!

The Sweet Scented Crinum Lilies

  Years and years ago, one of my favorite aunts gave me a whole bunch of lily bulbs.  The lilies were all of the crinum lily family but were different colors.  One she called a "Ruby Lily" multiplies so prolifically that I have been able to share with anyone who has ever wanted a start.  It is the prettiest of deep ruby-pinks and has a delightful scent that lets you know well in advance that you are about to come upon a clump in bloom.  Most of these, I have planted on the south side of the house and see daily as I walk to the pier.  I have to smile with each encounter simply because of memories.

  Another of the crinum lillies is the palest of pale pinks.  If memory serves me right, she called these "Peppermint Lilies".   Since the lily has lost its red streaks, it no longer resembles a peppermint candy but the name sticks.  Perhaps mine are a throwback to some previous type lily.  This clump is near the little Frog Pond and I often miss the blooms unless the wind is just right. These, too, have an intoxicating aroma!  If I happen to step on the back porch and there is a slight west wing, the scent lets me know that I need to venture to that part of the yard.  These have a slightly different scent than the Rubies but it is just as sweet.

  Both of these lilies never fail to fill the yard with their blooms during the summer months.  When not in bloom the large clumps of bright green, strappy leaves are quite imposing, in their own right.  Crinum lilies can often be found at abandoned homesites from as far back as the 1800s.  The lilies were a must-have item in gardens of the well-to-do back in the day.  The clumps of lilies could be as large as thirty feet across or they could line the winding lanes to the main house.  Landscaping was often centered around the lilies as they were easy to grow and maintain.  Then, the lilies became more mainstream and most gardens had (much smaller) clumps.   After having their time of glory, the interest faded until, now, the lilies are almost hard to find and the bulbs are often expensive.  I am fortunate enough to have many.  The hardy bulbs have stood through icy winters, scorching summers, hurricanes and droughts.  I do hope the bulbs just keep multiplying!

Sunrise...Sunset...And A Whole Lot Of Feelings In Between

  A long, long time ago, I sat on a step weeping over the passing of my grandmother. While the adults were discussing important things, I was sort of left to deal with this blow by myself.  To be honest, I had no idea of how to cope with such a loss.  Never before had anyone close to me died.  I was shocked, saddened and, to be honest, scared.  Sure, growing up on the farm, we saw our share of death but this was different.  THIS was my grandmother...the lady who told me sweet stories about the flowers in her gardens....the lady who soothed my bedtime fears with a cup of milk and a couple of cookies served in her finest teacups....the lady who was the epitome of the perfect Southern grandmother.  She could not leave this world without me.  Her passing was such a shock.  I knew she was ill but no one told me that it had come to this.  When we arrived at my grandparents' home, I was told to "Go sit outside.  Grandmother has died and we (meaning the adults) need to talk."  So, I went to the steps to grieve in my own confused way.

  After being there for a short time, my Aunt Marie (who lived next door) came to console me.  She talked with me a great while as we sat together on the steps.  Aunt Marie explained a lot of things that had never been discussed before.  She explained death in a beautiful way and helped me to accept what had happened.  Then, she just sat beside me and let me grieve.  Her presence was so comforting.

  One of the things Aunt Marie told me has stuck with me for a lifetime.  She compared life to the sunrises and sunsets that we observe here on the Bayou.  The sunrises are the start of a new day.  We go about our business during the day and make life the best it can be.  Then comes the sunset and we are given rest from our daily trials and frustrations.  We always have the idea that morning will come anew and we will have a fresh start. Sunrise gives us hope for eternal life...that our lives will begin again.  Sunsets are compared to the end of our earthly life.  Just like a day ending being a time for rest, death is the ending of our time here and we are to be given peace.  At the time, I was listening to words...words spilling from the mouth of someone who cared that this kid was confused and hurting.   Aunt Marie took the time to try to explain life and death the best she could under the circumstances.  She did good.  I felt better knowing that Grandmother was not in pain any longer and that there was a great possibility that I would see her again some day.  It felt good knowing that someone recognized the fact that, even though I was just a kid, I had feelings.  

  This morning's sunrise was particularly beautiful and it brought back the memory of Aunt Marie helping me through a difficult time.  I miss her even after all of these years after her death.  Even though the sunrise brought a memory of a sad time, I looked at it as a beautiful time in my life.  So, Aunt Marie, if you are up there listening to me ramble, this sunrise is for you and all of the guidance you proffered so many years ago.  Hopefully, we will meet again some day, too.

Revival Time!

  Years and years ago, my aunt gave me the start of many plants that grew in her gardens.  Aunt Marie always had beautiful gardens about her place and some of the most interesting plants could be found there.  One plant in particular stands out as a most memorable one.  The plant has a large head of tiny, purple flowers and some of the smelliest (stinky!) leaves that I have ever been around.  The plant does not have a stench unless you rub against the leaves.  Then...watch out!  Then, again, it must just be me because some folks have no problem with it.  Several of my sisters-in-law seem to like the "scent".  I guess it is sort of like those of us that like the smell of garlic vs those who do not.  Anyway, the plant is a favorite of mine regardless of its scented leaves. 

  When Aunt Marie gave the plant to me, I was thrilled that it did so well.  The start grew rapidly and multiplied greatly for the next few years.  Each summer, blooms filled the tops of the plants and attracted all sorts of butterflies.  Then, along came a few hurricanes, an illness and a lot of neglect.  These plants along with most others in the garden whithered and died out.  I was saddened at the loss but just did not have the energy to even worry long about it.  Then, a few years ago, a small shoot came up from an existing root.  It struggled and finally gave out without blooming.  The next year, the root again sprouted and gave me hope.  No bloom was seen that year either.  I started caring for the plant again and soon it was healthy and, today, a bloom!  I now have five small plants and the one blooming.  Hopefully, this means that the gardens will soon be filled with the purple blooms and many butterflies!  I am excited!

  The only downside to this whole tale is the fact that I cannot recall the name of the plant.  As matter of fact, I am not sure I was ever told the name but it matters not.  The plant and its smelly leaves are back and I am happy! Perhaps one of my cousins will recall the name and refresh my memory...hopefully!

Time Users

  It seems that with technology that is supposed to save us oodles of time, there is actually less accomplished.  Back when things were "simpler", folks got things done.  Believe it or not, people actually did things!  Now with everything at our fingertips, we are pushed to the limit to find enough hours in the day to do what we need to do.  I do blame technology.  It rots the mind.  At least, it rots mine.  A while back, Darling Daughter introduced me to a thing called "Pinterest"!  It is amazing!  You can find anything there!  Pinterest is a social media application that allows you to find almost anything, save the idea (pinning) AND supposedly use that information.  Sadly, most folks have become "pinners" and not doers.  Hours upon hours are idled away staring at what other folks are doing.  We are inspired!  We have high hopes!  We never "get around to it" so the fantastic ideas are "pinned" and ogled but never achieved.  Like I said, the site is absolutely fantastic and I do not blame the creators of the site for our lackadaisical attitudes.  We mean well but, by the time our brains are filled with great ideas, we are all too exhausted to carry out any of them.  If you have been living in another world and have not heard of Pinterest, you really should check it out.  It is wonderful but do not expect to ever have enough time.  

  This week, I have been doing another purge of items that are no longer used.  Two large envelopes of paper clippings were dragged to the table to be sorted.  Perhaps I should have just junked the things without opening but these were Mom's and Aunt Marie's recipes!  It felt like sacrilege to toss them without at least looking at them first.  Not only did the envelopes contain recipes but there were a bunch of "idea" clippings in there, as well. Crochet patterns, home decor information, gardening hints and a lot of interesting tidbits such as poems, sayings and pictures.  These were all cut from newspapers or magazines and tucked away for safe keeping.  These were the "Pinterest" of an earlier generation!

  The whole point I am trying to make is that hours spent on "time-saving" technology has left us with little time to actually do things.  With earlier generations, they saved the ideas (recipes, patterns, etc) but these were actually used.  It is quite evident by the condition of each slip of paper, each pamphlet, each newspaper clipping that they were viewed often.  Many had added instructions handwritten in the margins such as "add more vanilla" or remarks across the top if the recipe was "very tasty".  

  To be honest, I could not discard all of the items in the two envelopes.  If there were duplicates or tattered pieces, I tossed.  The others were put in the kitchen to use.  Some of the recipes brought back memories and others sounded too good not to try.  As I sat sorting the papers, I thought of Mom and Aunt Marie and their reaction to the whole idea of using the computer to find a good recipe.  That thought was rather amusing.  Oh, how times have changed....and some of it is not for the better.  Now, excuse me.  I have to search Pinterest for a pirate costume pattern!

The Eternal Flower

  Back years ago,  Aunt Marie gave me some lily bulbs.  Those things were huge!  She called them "Ruby Lilies" so the name stuck with me. She also gave some that she dubbed "Peppermint Lilies". Like the others, I still call those by her descriptive name even though, I have found that they are both Crinum Lilies.  The Ruby Lilies are the loveliest shade of ruby pink while the Peppermint Lilies are white and pink striped.  Both lilies are highly scented!  When blooming, the entire yard can be filled with delightfully sweet aroma.  This I like!  Highly scented flowers can help mask the not so delightful scent of low tide on the mudflats.

  Besides being highly scented and quite lovely, the lilies are perhaps the easiest garden flowers to grow.  Once established, the Crinum Lilies are nigh on impossible to kill so even the laziest of gardeners can have a lush bed of loveliness!  It is not uncommon to find abandoned homesteads from long ago that still have huge beds of the lilies in bloom.  Those lilies usually have bulbs that are near basketball size unlike the smaller two to three inch bulbs that are sold in stores.  Those "antique" bulbs can weigh up to twenty pounds each!  Some folks claim that the Crinum Lilies are eternal.  They never die no matter how badly you treat them.  Forget to water them, never give them fertilizer, run over them with your lawnmower, spray with herbicide...the lilies live. Mine withstood the ravages of hurricanes, were doused with the salty flood waters, lay hidden under ten feet of debris and took the mistreatment of our tractors as we cleaned the mess.  Once uncovered, the lilies burst forth with masses of leaves and then bloomed!  

 Since the lilies have so many good attributes, you would think that more gardeners would add them to the landscape.  Like all good things, there is usually a downside...a dark cloud that hovers just overhead.  With the Crinum lilies, I have only found one.  NEVER plant them where you do not want them.  Once well established, it is nigh on impossible to move them.  If you do wish to ever take out the entire clump of lilies, you better utilize a large tractor.  Otherwise, you will work yourself into a frenzy trying to dislodge the huge bulbs.  No wonder I love these things!  I better. I sure do not plan on moving them!

Four Colly Birds! Or Maybe Just One..

  Well, the tree is all decorated, the mantles are ready for the stockings to be hung and garland is strung on the stair rail.  That is about the extent of my decorations this year.  I have called it quits in hopes that now I can rest a bit.  Today, I repacked the unused decorations to be stowed away for the next few weeks until this all starts in reverse.  As I was repacking the boxes, I came across one ornament that just screamed to be let out of the box and on display.  A tiny, plastic blackbird could not be hidden away in the piles of tinsel...it just would not be Christmas without it. 

  The tiny blackbird was gifted to me by my cousins.  It was on their Christmas Tree that I always remember seeing the blackbirds.  In a way, I sort of grew up at my Aunt Marie and Uncle Alfred's place.  I was there about as much as I was at home.  Every year, the blackbirds made an appearance on the tree and yet, I knew nothing about them other than the fact that I really liked them.

  While I do not know the history behind the little bird, I do know that Christmas just would not be the same without it.  How the birds became a family tradition or even where they were purchased remains a mystery with me and is one I should definitely ask one of my cousins.  All of this got me to thinking....why blackbirds at Christmas?  So a bit of detective work began. 

  It seems that this may have started way back around 1780 when the words to the European verse "The Twelve Days of Christmas" were penned.  At first, this was not a song but sort of a rhyme.  The twelve days actually refer to the twelve days AFTER Christmas and not before as we now believe.  The original verse states that there were four colly birds and not calling.  This changed over the year until finally the song has become the (almost irritating after the two billionth time of hearing it) song we all know.  It seems that not too many folks realized what colly birds were even at the beginning so the word evolved to calling birds.  Now to set the record straight, colly birds are actual birds.  Well, sort of actual birds.  Colly is a regional European word for sooty or grimy such as one might describe a chimney sweep (not to be confused with a Chimney Swift bird).  In the song, the word is used in reference to the European Blackbird (which is not a blackbird at all but rather is in the Thrush family).  Such fun! But now you know!

 I sat holding the little plastic blackbird and was transported back in time to the Christmas holidays of days past.  I remember the pine tree that Uncle Alfred would steady up in the living room with nails and string and I remember helping Margaret hang the ornaments on the tree while Aunt Marie was in the kitchen stirring up something delicious.  I do, indeed, have fond memories of times there. 

Just not quite right

Early this morning, I whipped together a batch of yeast dough to set to rising on the old woodstove.  I figured if I had to keep stoking that fire, I might as well make it do double duty.  The house soon smelled of bread dough which made me think of the delightful goodies to come from that growing blob.  To be honest, this mainly started because of my son, Michael, mentioning the Pecan Sticky Buns that "Aunt Ree-ree" used to bake.  This took me back to a time when the kids were small.  "Aunt Ree-ree" was their name for my Aunt Marie.  She lived just across the way and always welcomed my three tykes into her house.  She never questioned their fists full of "ditch daisies" that they offered her. Nor did she worry about their grubby bare feet. She loved them and they her.  It seems that one of Michael's favorite memories was being called to "run over and get some rolls."  The three kids would tear out of the house leaving the screen door slamming behind them.  Those rolls were none other than the Pecan Sticky Buns and she made the best!

I remembered that a few years ago, my cousin sent me the recipe.  After letting that dough rise while we went out back to chop and stack more firewood, I hunted that recipe.  It was a pretty simple technique and after just a bit, my two pans of Pecan Sticky Buns were sitting in the ooey gooey goodness of brown sugar and butter.  They needed to rise one more time before sliding the pans into the oven.  Oh, my goodness!  Those things looked divine already and they were not even baked yet!

Once the pan came out of the oven, Michael and I couldn't wait!  I turned the pan of rolls out on a plate to let the sugary goodness drizzle down onto the buns.  He poured us each a glass of milk and we sat down to have a taste.  I waited as he ate his first bite.  He looked at me and said "Close..really close."  Smiling, I knew that was a compliment!  Sometimes, things are never "just as good" as the way we remember them but that is the good thing about memories.  I know that no matter how hard I try, I will never to make those buns "just right".  Whether the mind has a way of idealizing pleasant things from the past or whether Aunt Ree-ree had a magic touch, mine will never be the same....and I am good with that!