The Lovely Mimosa Syrup!

   Here lately, it has become a great interest of mine to find uses for whatever is on the place.  It is not of my nature to run to the store for things.  In fact, I do not go at all if what I need can be found, grown, repurposed or caught (fish, crabs and shrimp).  While most folks would consider this a "hard" way of doing things, it suits my needs perfectly so it has become a way of life.  The shelves are well stocked if not overstocked with jars of fruits, vegetables, nuts, juices and medicines.  Yep, I have turned to herbal remedies for a lot of ailments.  Doctors' visits still come into play if needed and for checkups but, if it is something I can fix with an elixir, tisane, balm or tincture, so be it.

  Now comes the surprising fact.  There are so many plants, shrubs and trees that fall into the category of healing plants that my "medicine cabinet", also known as a pantry shelf, seems to be filling quickly with the wondrous concoctions of days past.  Sometimes, folklore is more of a science than pure legend.  More than once, these "potions" saved me from illnesses that were brought to the Little Bayou House by unthinking people.  Just last month, after being exposed three different times, crape myrtle tisane mixed with sage and rosemary helped me to ward off a bad respiratory illness.  Both Mark and Son were ill and my sweet sister-in-law had the same virus.  My tisane came to the rescue!

  Now, a new "brew" has been added to the shelf!  Six half pints of the loveliest syrup was stirred up from an unlikely source.  Mimosa!  Albizia julibrissin!  Yep, that lovely, pink silk tree that grows so rampantly in the South has quite the healing properties.  I have been wanting to try this for ages but the trees bloom at the same time that the garden produces so my time was spent canning foodstuffs and the blooms did their happy thing of making the yard beautiful and delightfully aromatic.  Yesterday, however, Son was helping me pick plums when I mentioned how I wish I had time to pick the mimosa blooms.  He never questioned my motives but merely ambled down the hill and reached up to the high limbs.  "Are these good?"  Yay!  I picked and picked the fluffy blooms until I had a half of bucket full.  While he would hold down the limbs and I would pick, I started telling him about my plans.  He smiled and just nodded.  He knows his mom is weird but he also knows that the remedies work. 

  The blooms were "debugged" (think spiders...each carefully returned to their tree), washed and then put in a saucepan of water.  After simmering, the blooms were carefully removed and sugar (and a wee bit of lemon juice) added.  The simmering continued until a nice, syrupy blend was created.  This was canned and set to seal.  My beautiful syrup will be ready when needed!  (No, I do not store my canned goods in the window but it was the best way to capture the gorgeous color and clarity of the syrup!) 

  It feels good to be learning what Mother Nature has to offer even at this late in the game for me.  My kiddos keep telling me to learn new things but, in this case, I think I am learning old things...just new to me.  

The Wind Did It!

   For the past week or so, the lane has been breathtakingly beautiful.  The azaleas have been in full bloom and putting on quite a show!  The heavenly scent made me want to pause with each walk about the place.  These bushes are as full of memories as they are blooms.  Each one was carefully dug from under the existing azaleas from the old homeplace, from aunts' and uncles' places and from any number of neighbors. The bushes are old...from back in the day when plants were shared and not hastily bought.  Everyone shared!  Even folks you did not know were more than happy to "give you a start" if you admired their yard.  Those were the days, folks.  Those were the days when everyone was kind, giving and helpful.  

  Now, however, like the days gone...the azalea blooms are gone.  For the past two days, stiff southeast winds have plagued the poor flowers.  Most are piled in heaps beneath the bushes instead of gleefully hanging on their stems.  A carpet of pink now lines the driveway.  

  These winds are to be around for a few more days so undoubtedly more blooms, leaves and limbs will come tumbling down.  The yard will need cleaning yet again.  Folks, enjoy things while you can...nothing is permanent and will soon become a memory that will rattle around in the dark, cobwebbed corners of the brain.

Little Blooms of Hope

   After the snow and icy weather last month, February has come in as if to say "Hey!  I am spring!  All you plants need to perk up and look alive!"  Well, a lot of the plants and trees are like "Really now?  We are hurting and you want us to be perky?"  So...most continue to look dismally harmed.  The citrus trees really took a beating.  There is not much of a way to protect 20 to 30 ft tall trees and, yes, the grapefruit trees are that tall.  The orange trees are around 10 ft tall but were not "coverable" either. The cold was a bit much for all of the trees and the damage is showing in the form of brown and dropped leaves.  It is saddening that such beauty that the snow brought to the Bayou has dealt a blow on what is here year round. 

  As I wandered the hillside surveying the damaged trees, my heart gave a little leap of happiness seeing a tiny cluster of blooms.  Not everything had perished!  No, not citrus blooms (thankfully) but rather the paperwhite narcissus.  These cold hardy plants were not daunted at all by the 14 degree temperatures and have now brought hope back to the gardens.  I know it is beyond most folks thinking that I can find immense joy in the simple bloom of a lily that is a annual occurrence but, to my way of thinking, any bit of beauty means there is hope that things will soon be back to normal.  Paperwhites are said to represent the coming of spring so maybe soon things will not seem so grim.

  The cleanup of damaged gardens is in full swing as is the cleanup of fallen leaves.  The leaves will be ground and returned to the gardens as mulch.  Hopefully, what was seen as damage can help with the regrowth.  Also, hopefully, this bout of springlike weather will not encourage the off-season blooming that often happens after ice storms.  I would have preferred that February had stayed chilly and let things have a dormant stage before pushing them into a premature revival state.  Slow down, plants.  Take your time.  Let the healing be the number one priority.

Monster Blooms!

   Madonna Lilies are some of those ever-present things that grow wherever they please.  If any piece of soil is left unattended for a few months, wham!  Madonna Lilies are there.  This is understandable since each bloom makes a bajillion seeds and those seeds are so light that the wind carries them for miles.  Once they fall to the ground they are ready to go.  Needless to say, there are a lot of them here on the Bayou.  I do not even know how the first ones got here but once they took hold, they were here to stay.  I do know how they became so widespread, however, and I blame that on my kids when they were young.  The seed pods of the lilies are on long stems and when they burst open the seeds fly out with the slightest touch.  Imagine three kids chasing each other with the long stems while spewing seeds out like fairy dust.  Now there are lilies everywhere.

  Some of the current lilies have mutated to some strange things.  Instead of the 5 to 7 blooms that normally sit atop a 4 ft stalk, the stalks are now 10ft and hold some 20 to 30 blooms.  The stalks themselves have changed as instead of being rounded, they now flatten at the top to be almost fan-shaped.  Why?  Who knows.  They are adapting to whatever climate changes, I suppose.

  One such lily was in full bloom when it became top-heavy and snapped.  The huge stalk just could not support the massive amount of blooms during one of our recent thunderstorms.  Try as it might, it could not stand against the winds.  It saddened me to find the broken stalk this morning so I snipped it and brought the stalk inside.  Ha!  Instant bouquet!  Now the Little Bayou House is decorated with fresh flowers...albeit mutated blooms.

The Plant That Keeps On Giving

   "They" said that it only happens every one hundred years, every ten years or even every year but only once.  I am talking about all of the myths and untruths surrounding the Night-blooming Cereus.  Depending upon who is doing the talking, this poor plant may as well give up ever setting a bloom.  Granted, that "once a year" thing is more accurate than the others and, granted, the blooms only last one night but it is ridiculous to think that it only blooms once a decade or once a century.  Nope...it just does not happen that way.

  I admit that I am a bit surprised at the frequency that my plants are setting buds.  This is their seventh budding this summer and we still have several months of warm enough weather to see that number rise.  Crazy thing is I do nothing for these poor plants other than take them out of the greenhouse with the first warm spell and plunk them on the bench under the oak tree.  It must be the perfect spot as, ever since I have been putting them in this spot, they have flourished.  Maybe placement is all it takes.  The plants just completed a blooming cycle last week and today I noticed tiny nodules on the leaves.  Those mean more blooms are coming!

  My plants are all "starts" from my granddad.  He kept two large hanging plants but rooted many.  I received mine and have rooted hundreds.  To start, I was careful of how I attempted taking the cuttings and how I placed them for rooting.  Now, I simply break off a leaf and drop it in Pebble Creek.  The water does the rest.  It takes about a week for the leaf to have enough roots to be on its own.  Usually, I take the time to pot them but, lately, laziness has gotten in the way of that.  I merely leave them in the running water until someone wishes to have their own Night-bloomer.  "Here!  Take one...or two...or maybe ten!"  It is all good!

Slow Growers

   Ahh, yes!  Even though the weather is getting a tad too warm, the green peas are finally blooming!  The seeds were planted months ago and promptly sprouted.  Then, a spate of inclement weather set in and the plants sat at three inches tall for over a month!  They did not grow at all.  I fertilized, weeded, mulched and provided a lovely fence for them but they sat idle.  I was a tad disappointed, to say the least.  To me, there is nothing more pathetic that those who do not even try...plants included. Then, suddenly, a growth spurt came and the fence is starting to be covered and, better yet, there are blooms!  I can already taste those fresh green peas!  

   It is sort of funny how plants let you know when they want to grow and when they would rather not be bothered.   It was the same with the cabbages, mustard greens, broccoli, cauliflower and spinach.  It took forever for them to mature but, oh, when they did, we ate fine!  The carrots, on the other hand, are still tiny.  Hopefully, they will be inspired by the peas.  Here it is time for the spring garden to be put in and I am still waiting for the winter garden to do its thing!  Hurry it up a bit, plants!

Buzz, Buzz, Buzz!

  These beautiful days are just perfect for gardening!  Once the chores for the day are complete, my time is spent puttering about the Small Gardens.  Right now, the vegetable plot is garnering most of my attention. It is time to get the spring seeds in the ground or in the hotbeds.  Since the garden has been used all winter, it is relatively clean and just needs minor work before putting in the seeds.  Still, there is always maintenance to be done and new planters to be built.  While Son is building a huge upright herb tower for me, I am erecting smaller versions to start the seeds.  Plus, he and I are reworking the drainage ditch that I dubbed Pebble Creek.  Raccoons decided that the small stream was their playground and literally tore up the entire thing.  Since it is not a natural creek in the first place, a layer of concrete should deter their efforts of digging beneath it.  

  Back in the veggie plot, however, I was elated to be in the company of a dozen or so bees.  Granted these are carpenter bees and not the sweet, little honeybees but, still, it made me smile to see so many working the garden alongside of me.  The mustard greens are bolting which is fine by me since it is getting to hot to grow them.  Several have already shot up their bright yellow blooms which attract the bees.  The bees will pollinate the blooms allowing them to produce viable seeds for next fall.

  This afternoon, after putting in two rows of yellow squash seeds, I sat and watched the bees for a few moments.  They seemed happy enough with the mustard flowers as not much else is blooming yet.  Given time, the entire row will be filled with the blossoms and more bees will come. It seems early to be putting in this many seeds but I am willing to take the chance of a late freeze.  There will be one, I will panic and try to cover my plants and promise not to push spring next year.  (I will, though, we both know that!)  For now...enjoy the weather, folks!  Get outside and do something.  You will feel better!

The Morning After...

   Last night, Son walked out with me to view the Night Blooming Cereus.  The plants are potted and sit on a plank bench near Pebble Creek (the glorified roof drain).  I know it is probably silly but these plants have a strong meaning to me.  These are direct descendants of plants that Granddad grew. In fact, he rooted my very first plant and gave it to me when I was still in high school.  Over the years, I rooted more until I have a dozen and have shared with all my friends.  I did, however, almost lose every one during Hurricane Katrina.  There was no way to protect the plants and, at the time, that was the least of my worries.  Afterward during the massive cleanup, I found one small "leaf" and from that started anew.  The memories of "Night Blooming Cereus Parties" still hold a special place in my heart.  About a week ahead, we were put on "bud watch".  As the tiny buds grew, so did the excitement (at least for me.)  Then, on the big night, the family would drive over to my grandparent's place and we would have supper and wait for the buds to open.  The buds usually began to open around 8pm but were not in their full grandeur until about 10pm.  That late hour added to the intrigue.  It was one of the few times that I was ever allowed to be up late and especially to be that late at someone's house.  It was special!  Like I said, Son and I went out to view the blooms.  Nine of the buds were opening!  I marveled at the beauty and the aroma.  Son, on the other hand, patiently humored his mom.  

  Then...the day after.  The morning after the blooming, the excitement fades and a sort of sadness settles in to replace it.  The blooms of the cereus only last for one night.  They open late and then before dawn, the blooms start to wane.  By sunrise, the once dinner-plate-sized blooms are sad, wilted remnants of themselves.  This morning, I snapped off the spent blooms and tossed them to the wayside.  They were done.  I was sad.  Until tonight!  More buds are set to open tonight and for the next few nights.  This is the third time this summer that the plants have set buds.  I think I finally found the perfect spot for them to flourish.  Sadly, however, not a one of the plants that I shared with friends and family have bloomed yet.  Perhaps they are lonely and I should root some more!  Granddad would have.  He always said that if you want your plants to do well, then you should share them with others.  It works, for sure.  Memories...tied to plants, just like to people are well worth hanging onto.

Hornets, Whales and Bonsai Crepe Myrtles!

   It seems that 2020 has been a topsy-turvy sort of year and we are not finished with it yet.  What else is to come?   Any day now, I half expect to see Godzilla come sloshing up out of the Bayou.  Trust me...that would be no surprise after what this year has thrown at us.  In fact, I was reading a few oddities that have occurred and I am still astounded.  Have you heard about the whale in the rain forest?  Come now.  Does that seem normal?  Viruses, hornets...bah!  But a whale in the rain forest?  Seriously?  Yep, seriously.  It was all over the news about the dreaded Murder Hornets but I am more concerned about that whale!

  Now my oddity is nothing compared to the earth-shaking things the media is trying to shove down our throats but, when you have been confined to the Small Gardens for more than a month, things are exciting.  My garden "claim to fame" is...wait for it...a crepe myrtle tree!  Yay!!!  Oooh!  Ahhh!  Ok, enough of that.  But, indeed, I was totally engrossed by such a tree this morning and spent a good ten minutes weeding around it.  You see, I have never seen a baby crepe myrtle tree bloom!  Yep, THAT is something that should be news worthy!  "Breaking news!  Climate changes have started creating miniature versions of trees that are blooming all across the South!  We are thinking these trees are harbingers of bad times to come as the trees will spread like wildfire!  They will kill off all food supplies and, worse yet, will steal toilet tissue causing massive shortages!"  Sound about right?  Yeah, well, this is exactly why I do not have a TV in the house.  

  But I do have four inch tall crepe myrtle trees blooming in the front yard.They are like cute, little wild bonsai trees!   Obviously, I neglected to cut back the spent blooms of the large trees last year and the seeds were viable.  Tiny crepe myrtle trees are everywhere and all are blooming!  They are so adorable! 

  Well, that is my all important news flash for today.  Other than that, all is quiet on the Bayou.  We are at peace here.  I do, however, have so many questions about that whale.  Why?  How?  What on earth was it thinking to go there?? What was it seeking?  Did a bird drop it?  If so, I want to see that bird!  Which opens another can of worms!  

Magic In The Small Gardens

  Since my "realm" has been reduced to the small gardens, I have become greatly appreciative of anything that resides therein.  The flora and fauna has become my world.  Things that I have often overlooked as "Queen of the Small Gardens" now have great interest.  Each has become a great wonder that purely has me awestruck.  As I discover life again, things in my newfound domain deserve extra notice.  So, I study each.  I delve into the "whys and wherefores" of the importance of each on this earth and in my gardens.  Life is good.  In fact, LIFE is great!

  Yesterday evening, Mark took me out just so I could photograph the moonflowers that climb upon the new trellis that I built before my limitations were set in place.  These flowers seem almost magical to me!  During the daytime hours, the buds are tightly wound spirals but let evening fall and the buds start to unfurl!  Then, the full glory can be seen...and smelled!  The side yard is filled with sensations of the best kind.  

  Moonflower blossoms are said to perfectly represent the phrase "Out of the darkness comes light."  It refers to the spiritual awakening of those who are lost.  The blooms of this vine literally glow in the moonlight which fully adds to the understanding of the comparison.  This, of course, is meaningless unless one ponders things as I do.  All gardens are special places that folks can find themselves if they only seek to do so.  Whether, a certain blossom brings a bit of enlightenment to mind or whether a simple dose of introspection does, a garden is sure a fine place to start.

Queen of the Small Gardens

  I have crowned myself as "Queen of the Small Gardens" being as that is the entirety of my realm for the next week or so.  No hikes.  No pier.  No heavy work.  Boring.  While some would be happy campers with this new arrangement, I am not.  It is not my nature to sit on my duff.  I need to be doing...doing anything...just doing.   This newfound laziness is rubbing me against the grain and, though I am the queen of this realm, I wish to escape.  That, my friends, is in the plans!  Escape!  Oh, the things I could do!

  Actually, I cannot complain about being confined to the small garden spaces as this is one of my favorite places.  I am adjusting to the change and am finding that I have overlooked so many things here.  My appreciation for even the tiniest changes is overwhelming.  To think that just a week ago, I had free run of the Bayou and all of its wonders and, now, I am discovering new wonders that are practically underfoot. Perhaps a wakeup call is needed to literally show us how to appreciate what we are given.  All is good.

  This morning, I found that the phlox were blooming and the althea bush was rewarding my "devining" efforts with an explosion of flowers.  To be honest, the phlox plant is one that my sweet granddaughter bought for her uncle.  Son has no idea of planting nor caring for flowers so the plant was placed in my care.  He was, however, elated to see the blooms and we had a long chat about Sweet Mary Ruth and her choice of gifts.  Both of us decided that they were the best gifts one could receive.  The althea bush was from a cutting from my grandparents' home so it holds memories as well. These two discoveries were the highlight of my morning.  Yeah, not much in comparison to some folks' day but highly exciting for the Queen of the Small Gardens.  I can be satisfied with what I find and elated just to be seeing a new day.  Life is good.  

Bewitching Aroma!

  While Son and I were out and about this afternoon, a strong southeast wind was cooling the air.  On that breeze, there was one of the sweetest scents.  It slightly smelled of peaches no...maybe bananas.  I thought the tea olives were blooming because those blooms have a slight peachy smell.  They were but Son pointed out that the wind was in the wrong direction.  So, I searched.  Following the scent, I headed down to the marsh edge.  Nothing blooming there.  I headed eastward around the path.  Nope, no blooms.  Still, that sweet scent lingered heavily on the breeze.  

  Since I was this far into a hike, there was no turning back.  The path took me down behind the canebrake, through the old peach orchard and far down into the woods almost to the creek bed.  It is always a happy time to be tromping about the woods and a few blooms did surprise me.  First, what I have tentatively identified as sweetspire could be found draping down along the path.  The long, spires of creamy white were beautiful but did not have the fruity aroma of the mystery plant.  Then, I spied what we have always called mimosa or pink silk tree.  The pink, fluffballs are actually albizia and grow wild throughout the woods.  They do have a lovely scent but it is not the one that bewitched me earlier.  

  The mystery scent still eludes me.  Perhaps tomorrow, I will search again. It bugs me when there is something new on the Bayou and I cannot find it to identify it.  

*The white blooms are NOT sweetspire but Swamp Cyrilla!  

The Doppelganger In My Garden!

  It is not a lie when I tell you that I grow a lot of Allium related plants in my garden.  The chives have just about taken over, the garlic is doing extremely well, shallots are being quite happy and onions are constantly being replaced as I use them.  I have lots and lots of alliums!  Why?  First, I use a lot.  While Mark and Son are not big on any of the above, I could eat them at every meal and be perfectly blissful.  Second, they are just so easy to grow!  Plop them in the ground and forget about them for a while and then you have a fine crop.  Almost all of the alliums in my gardens are from salvaged root ends from store-bought ones.  I just save the last half inch near the root end and stick it in a bit of water for a day then plant.  Ta da!!!  Onions, shallots, garlic, chives...oh, my!  The original plants are still going strong and multiplying like crazy so no more store bought alliums!

The onion impostor!

  Then, there is one cluster of bulbs that mimics the onions.  Well, it looks a lot like wild onions when you first look at the plant.  It grows from a bulb, has leaves like an onion and makes white blooms like some onions.  Other than the blooms being slightly different, the biggest identifying factor is that these plants do not have the strong smell that true alliums have.  So, big tip here!  If it looks like an onion and smells like an onion...it is an onion.  If that smell is lacking, don't eat it!  The plant is an impostor!  It may be a pretty impostor but it is still an impostor!  I have never eaten one so cannot attest to this fact but the plant is said to be poisonous!  Do not eat!  Why take the chance when you can just take a sniff to tell the difference? 

  The false onion, false garlic or (what Pop called it) crow's poison does indeed have a place in my garden but not where it has so inconveniently decided to grow.  I would hate for some unsuspecting visitor to pull the plant thinking they are going to cook up some fantastic dish then discover too late that what they just stir-fried was not a cluster of onions at all.  So, the plant will be dug and moved to the flower garden to add a bit of early springtime beauty.  

Becoming "One" With The Bayou

  If you live on a bayou long enough, you begin to more or less blend in with the scenery.   Soon, no one even notices you.  Let's just say that I have been here for a really long time.  Not that I am complaining because with the shape the world has gotten itself in lately, I am perfectly happy to be among the gators, otters and nutria rats.  All of the nonsensical people can just keep their distance and let me be part of the Bayou and its life. 

  As I was sitting watching the bull minnows in their courtship battles, a tuft of "fluff" caught my eye.  At first, it seemed to be a swamp sparrow but when I tilted my head passed the groundsel bush for a better view, I found that it was nothing more than the marsh grass blooms.  Now there is one for you folks who never see the small stuff because of the larger picture.  Marsh grass blooms!  A lot of folks probably never consider the brown, scraggly things as blooms but if you ever have the opportunity to really study things, you might be amazed.  When seen in the distance, the blooms appear to be brown and dried.  Up close and personal, one can actually see the deep red sepals that opened to reveal tiny cream-colored petals.  These flowers produce seed capsules that are filled with shiny, black seeds.  

  The marshes around here are mostly Juncus romerianus which is commonly called needlerush.  It grows to about four feet tall and looks to be all stems.  Those stems are actually the very tightly rounded leaves.  They are about an eighth inch in diameter but quickly taper to a sharp point at the tip...hence the needlerush name.  Needlerush is a true rush and is often seen as more gray than green.  It reproduces by the seeds mentioned above or by rhizomes.  

  So, now you know how I spend my off time.  After the chores are done and I have quit for the day, the water calls.  I heed the yearning to learn more about my fine, little paradise.  I sit among the palmettos or marshes and observe.  Life is better that way...by far.

  

Totally Missed!

  Every now and again, things go in a different direction than you had intended.  I do a lot of photography.  In fact, I probably take far too many photos.  I do not take too many photos of people, however.  Getting nature shots is my goal.  I figure at the rate we are losing critters and plants to the abuse of this old world, it might be prudent to get a few photos of things even if it is for my own satisfaction.  Sometimes, however, that plan goes awry and the photographs do not turn out as expected.

  Late this afternoon, Mark and I headed to the pier to check the crab traps.  It was a nice evening so we sat a bit and just before dark, headed back to the Little Bayou House.  Once we neared the front steps, something fluttered past my head and to the moonflower blooms.  My first thought was that this was a hummingbird but why was it out so late?  Then, it dawned on me that it was a large moth. The moonflower blooms were just beginning to unfurl and the moth could not wait to crawl inside for a sip.   The trusty, old camera is always in hand so I started trying to get my pictures.  The moth was quick and was not happy with me being so near.  It flitted from one blossom to another without stopping.  Try as I might, I could get nary a photo of the intended critter.  I did get a nice picture of the moonflowers!

  So, the idea is to sit outside tomorrow evening and see if our friend returns.  Perhaps a "perfect shot" will be forthcoming...perhaps not.  With photographing critters, there is no "Hold still, now!"  "Smile!" or "Pose this way!"  You take what you get.  It requires a lot of patience and a lot of dealing with bug bites.  I am ok with that.  

Curcuma Petiolata!

  Curcuma Petiolata....I was pondering just what these words meant when I first heard the two together.  They sort of roll off the tongue with a bit of smoothness not often found among words.  Well, this far in the Deep South just about every word has its own bit of oozy smoothness as we have what is called a drawl.  I have never noticed it.  Perhaps because I have the same drawl and think it is the only natural way of speaking.  Still, Curcuma Petiolata are a couple of words that are gentle on the ears when said together. Now, do you have any idea what this is?  It is a plant.  Well, a curcumin plant...ok, so a ginger plant...of sorts.  Curcuma Petiolata is a type of plant that is in the ginger family and gives us turmeric.  Now, we are getting somewhere! Turmeric and ginger are both found in my kitchen at any given time as they are two of my favorite spices and my go-to roots for home remedies! 

  But..why the sudden interest in this plant?  Well, last year, Darling Daughter gave me a "start" of a plant she has growing in her yard.  The rhizome was potted and has been doing rather well for the past year.  The plant has reached a height of about two feet and now has a lovely bloom! It is that bloom that made me do a bit of research on the plant.  I have always called these turmeric plants but never knew the correct name. 

  Curcuma Petiolata!  This plant is also known by a lot of other names such as Hidden Ginger, Hidden Lily, Queen Lily and Jewel of Thailand.  It is easy to grow as it requires little to no care once it is planted.  It does like a nice watering often but grows happily in sun or shade.  Darling Daughter has hers in full sun while mine is in full shade.  The only downside (if it can be called one) is that the plant multiplies readily so be prepared to thin the crop now and again.  Plus side, once the neighbors see the blooms and lovely foliage, they are usually more than happy to take a few plants off your hands.  Word of warning, however, there is some critter that loves to munch on the bloom as is evident by the lack of pink petals on the top of my bloom stalk!  Tomorrow, I will try to catch the culprit in action so it can be eradicated!  Do not munch my Curcuma Petiolata!

Seen In A New Light

  Down here on the Bayou, we are told to watch out for many "invasive" critters and plants.  It seems that waterways are an easy way for invasive species to get a foothold.  While I have not found but two invasive critters (a Cuban frog and a Brown Anole), plants are a different story.  Often, these plants are washed in on the tides.  The plants are usually discards from someones gardens and goldfish ponds.  Plenty of folks use no commonsense when it comes to properly disposing of plants.  "Throw them in the Bay" seems to be the brilliant idea of many folks.  Hey now!!!  Those pretty water plants can soon clog waterways and create all sorts of problems for wildlife.  They also deplete oxygen from the water and literally suffocate a lot of critters.  I try my best to fish out the offending plants and either find them homes in another landscaped pond or destroy them.  That is usually easier said than done, however, as I have no way of scavenging the entire shoreline for misplaced plants.

  Along the shoreline, there are dozens and dozens of one particular invasive species.  The popcorn tree or tallow tree has strewn enough seeds about the marsh to make a regular nuisance of itself.  This fast growing tree blooms and then bears thousands upon thousands of seeds each summer.  By late fall, birds, squirrels, rats and coons are all feasting on those seeds.  Well...what goes in must come out and the seeds have been transported to a new growing spot via poop.  There seems to be no easy way to eradicate such a prolific species.  So...quickly spreading and fast growing has me pondering something.  Does tallow tree wood burn nicely in the fireplace?   If suitable, I would have a ready source of wood for the wood burning stoves!  Not a bad idea, if I do say so myself!  A bit of research is called for here.

  This morning, the rising sun was beaming across the Bayou and onto the tallow trees across the way.  The trees were putting on quite the extravagant show with their long, golden tassels.  My goodness!  I was now seeing the tree in a new light..literally!  The golden sunlight on the golden tassels was a sight to behold!  Maybe...just maybe, tallow trees have a place here on the Bayou...at least, a couple of them, anyway.

The Jasmine Wall Diner

  The jasmine vine is in full bloom and the yard smells divine!  With this aroma wafting on the cooling bay breeze, every critter for miles (it seems) has decided to come taste the nectar.  There is nothing more inviting to nectar drinking insects than to have an entire wall of flowers from which to choose.  Bumblebees, honeybees, milkweed bugs, moths, butterflies and ants are all visiting.  They are feasting alongside the hummingbirds so the entire fence line is a busy place.

  I headed out to trim back the wisteria that has decided to join the roses and jasmine on the fence.  This is a volunteer plant but mingles well as long as I can keep the wild vines from choking everything else.  My trimming came to a quick halt when I realized that, besides the insects and hummers, another bunch of critters were in the jasmine.  The tiny green tree frogs were hiding among the leaves.  I would have hated to accidentally snipped a froggy! These little frogs are smart.  They know that the blooms will attract millions of insects so they sit and wait for the opportune moment to catch a meal.  It seems that the jasmine wall is a feeding place for many.

  Watching the frog for a moment, I noticed that a weird black and orange beetle was also on the vines.  It took me a moment to realize that this beauty was a milkweed bug.  While these critters do not really hurt the plants, they do reproduce rapidly and can make the garden look quite infested.  Well, this one probably won't.  That sweet froggy was watching the bug's every move.  Buggy may have become Froggy's lunch!

In Bloom!

  This morning after bringing the old dog back inside, I slipped out for a quick hike back down the hillside.  Since he is ailing, there is no purpose served in tiring him with my interests.   The hike, itself, was triggered by a glimpse of blossoms down on the east path.  I wanted to get a better glimpse of the tiny blooms.  A few months back, a friend informed me that the bush in question is called sparkleberry.  I had to admit that was a new one to me.  He said that the berries are in the blueberry family and are edible even though they are a rather tart or bitter.  More to my interest was the fact that they could be used to make jelly and jam.  The berries are also known as farkleberries which seems to be a strange name.  Sparkleberry, I can understand as the berries are literally shiny and sparkly!  

  The sparkleberry bush next to the path is actually in a large clump of palmettos. The bush did indeed have thousands of blooms and was also being visited by a good many honeybees and butterflies.  This was good but below the low hanging limbs another cluster of buds caught my eye.  The palmetto was blooming, too.   Ahh, another thing of beauty on such a short hike.  The palmetto dates are supposedly edible, as well.  I have yet to be able to gather any ripe fruit as the raccoons tend to beat me to them each year.  Some day....maybe.

  I had to hurry back to reality so the old dog would not have an anxiety attack.  If I am absent for any length of time he panics and begins to stumble around the room.  My "me time" was over.  Duty called.

Be a Goldenrod!

  When you come to think of it, plants are pretty resilient.  They can be battered to the ground yet still push back with new growth.  They can be wilted flat with the lack of water and yet let a small rain come they bounce back with renewed vigor.  Plants can pretty well be neglected, mangled and mutilated yet with a wee bit of encouragement, they survive.  It is that will to survive that lets them cling on in the most direst of situations.

  This afternoon during a short break in the rains, I headed to the pier.  It was there that I spied some rather hardy plants enduring some pretty harsh growing conditions.  It is hard to comprehend that plants can flourish with their roots soaked in saltwater.   Across the Bayou,  a splash of brilliant yellow told me that a whole patch of goldenrod was doing rather well even though the roots were embedded in a saltwater laden marsh.  The plants were doing so well, in fact, that they rivaled some of the plants in a well tended nursery.  These, goldenrod plants, however, had never known the love and attention that most garden plants receive.  The seeds were scattered haphazardly by the wind or birds then the tiny plants took root and grew.  The blooms told me that the next generation of goldenrod will be strong and sturdy!  The new plants will beat the odds and grow well in the marsh.  

  It is too bad we cannot do the same.  It is hard for us to adapt to our surroundings and flourish after being put in a position that is not to our liking.  Most of us wither and become fragile under harsh circumstances. It is the rare person that pushes to flourish when things are not perfect.  Be a goldenrod!  Grow where you are planted and flourish!  Bloom and make a difference in this old world!