The Lack of Sleep and a Thing of Beauty!

   A few years ago, my brother gave me a piece of a plant that he had on his front porch.  He said that it was there when he moved into the house.  The home used to be our grandparents' place and I do recall there being a lot of plants there when our grandparents were alive.  The plant was a cactus of sorts and greatly resembled the Night Blooming Cereus that I had (from the same grandparents).  He said that his plant had never bloomed to his knowledge even though it was about 30 years old.  Hmm...well, it was still interesting so I gladly took my "leaf" home to root.  The cutting did well and soon became a huge plant that I lugged in and out of the greenhouse to protect.  I was happy with the night "non-blooming" cereus just because it was an interesting cactus.  Whereas the other cereus plant leaves were flat, these start out triangular and then flatten.  Such an odd addition to my "rainforest".

  Well, now three years after the gift of a cutting, the cactus decided it was time to bloom!  Last night, I stayed up far too late for this old lady just so I could view (and photograph) the bloom.  Needless to say, that 4am rising time came before I was ready but Bat, the cat, thought otherwise.  Happily, the bloom was still open although a bit weary itself.  I smiled as I stepped out the French doors before dawn.  Seeing that single flower well made up for the lack of sleep.

  Now comes the bit of studying time to find out exactly what type of night-blooming cactus this is.  There are so many different types out there!  Having the triangular stems (leaves) and the smaller bloom should help in the research.  Also, rooting more has become a priority!  

The "Dead Crab"

   My brother is one of those people who truly appreciates any kindness shown to him.  This is quite evident when he receives my Christmas gifts to him each year.  My gifts have to be some of the most unusual to be gifted as I make him things literally out of "nothing".  Since we are no strangers to storms that wash debris into the yard and to catching our meals from the Bay, it is my habit to create a whimsical gift out of whatever I find.  He receives them with much glee and true appreciation as he claims that the work and thought behind the object far outweighs any money that could be spent.  I suppose...or...he humors me.  Still, each of the past gifts decorate his porch which is his main entertaining spot so I feel he may just find the things as interesting as I do.

  This year, I was in a quandary.  I had already used driftwood as a basis of his gifts for the past several years and wanted to do something a bit different.  A wondrous idea hit me when I was checking the crab pots and found that a blue crab had shed.  The soft-shell crab was destined to be supper but that discarded shell was meant for a "higher" purpose!  That would be my gift to Brother Jimmy!  Yep, he was to receive a "dead crab" this year!  After carefully cleaning the crab, I set to gluing it back to its original shape.  Then came the trouble of painting it.  Crabs, when they die, change colors.  I wanted this one to look as close to natural as possible.  The painting was no easy task because, by the time I did it, there were no live crabs to use in comparison.  I just had to wing it.  Once that was complete, I coated it with several clear protective coats and then tried to figure out a "frame".  Nothing fit.  Crabs are fat.  So...an old salvaged window from a discarded door became a suitable frame...of sorts.  A bit of rope found in the yard rounded out the decor! 

  While most folks would have sneered at my attempts, he loved it.  Since he does a lot of crabbing and soft-shelling, the idea struck a chord with him.  The simple gift now adorns his porch wall.  I am sure that all the folks that gather around are fully amused at the "dead crab" gift but I can rest assured that my brother loves his quirky gift...and perhaps his quirkier sister that has weird ideas!  

A Table Lamp Is Born!

   In an earlier post, I mentioned the broken chandelier parts that my brother had given to me.  Whenever he finds anything a bit out of the ordinary, he immediately thinks of me and the Little Bayou House.  Yep, the house and I are both a bit eccentric and eclectic so broken chandeliers fit right in with our "style" or lack of it.  The house, being decorated by me, has no say in its contents so I feel free to be as whimsical, weird or aberrant as I wish to be.  It is funny because the two menfolk that live here (husband and son) have grown so accustomed to the oddities that they do not question anything...ANYTHING!  Then again, I am not sure they even notice.  Men are like that sometimes.  Just block it out if it does not seem normal...I am not normal.  I do not wish to be normal.  Normal is boring.

  Anyway, I took to tinkering with the chandelier parts once I had them totally cleaned.  Knowing that I really had no place to hang yet another odd lighting feature, it seemed only natural to make a table lamp.  Yeah, well, that meant putting top parts on the bottom and bottom parts on the top and then adding a few things from other projects or from the stash of "maybe useful things".  None of the actual light fixture was included in the gift so that had to be purchased.  I will take the time to say stringing wire through those skinny arms to where the fake candle was to sit, was no fun.  Literally, hours were spent trying to fish a wire through a metal arm that obviously had nooks and crannies along the interior.  That just about made me change my mind on this whole project.  Once the wires were in place and the whole thing wired into working order, the fun began.  I needed to find some sort of "cover" for the wired parts. Not wanting white "candles" (too easy to cut plastic pipe...I had to be difficult), I found that some solar light stakes (from the aforementioned stash) fit perfectly! So...metal stakes were cut to become some really funky "candles".  Then...shades! Those lights needed shades!  Again, I dug through the stash box and, again, some old solar lights seemed to be perfect for the job.  Well...sort of...maybe. This involved using a small rotary saw to cut of the bottom of the light shield so I could turn it upside down to be used as a shade.  The shades were made with a stained glass look so they added a bit of charm to the reconstructed lamp. 

  All that is left is to order some more crystals for the light (what proper chandelier turned table lamp would be barren of crystals?) and stain the wood base that was added to give the light some height.  Now, my broken chandelier can glow in all its newfound glory in the midst of dusty old books, antique clocks and some very nice Victorian furniture that I acquired by accident (or on purpose!).  I am beginning to think I was born in the wrong era...or perhaps the free spirit in me has finally truly decided to show its face.  I know it will not appeal to most others but "most others" can keep their opinions to themselves. Like I said earlier...normal is boring. Personally, I could not be happier! Glow on, revamped light. Cast your sparkles about the place like pixie dust.  You are magical.

Everyone Needs A Broken Chandelier!

   I have finally had a chance to start thinking what I shall create with the broken lamp pieces that my brother gave me for Christmas.  Yes, he and I exchange odd things but to us they are treasures!  We understand each other so all is well.  As I was digging through the box of "lamp" parts, it became apparent that these are actually from an old chandelier. Well, that changes things.  My creation will most likely now have to be a hanging object instead of something mounted.  Still the treasure trove in intriguing and my brain is whirring with ideas but, first, these things need to be cleaned.

  When my brother found the chandelier, it had been dropped down inside of a large, plastic bin.  Over time, the bin was filled with water so the parts had become quite gunky.  So...what does one do with gunky parts?  Well, according to my brother who is a mechanic by trade, you soak the parts in gasoline.  Hmmm?  Something tells me that bronze should not be soaked in gas.  The parts were (ahem) cleaned...sort of...maybe...or maybe not.  I got to work this morning since it was very foggy and, at 4am, still too dark to go to the pier.  A soft wire brush, some wax polish and shoe buffer worked nicely for the restoration.  The process is time-consuming and I have a few scratched knuckles but the pieces are looking so much better!  I have about a fourth of the pieces buffed...and a lot more to do.

  The next few mornings will find me buffing the chandelier components and then the fun shall begin!  Another oddity will come to be and the Little Bayou House will be all the more beautiful because of it.  THIS, I look forward to doing.  Finally, there will be something beside chores filling my day.  Son has assured me that his foot has healed enough for him to take over cutting the firewood for the remainder of the winter so, perhaps now, my mental state can improve.  Being creative can do that!

"Best Kind of Gift"

   A couple of years ago, I was talking with my brother and he made the comment that he did not want gifts of "things I have to put in the house" for Christmas.  It seems that he is in about the same boat I am in with the house filled to the max.  There IS no room for anything else.  I keep telling folks to stop giving me things that take up space.  Don't buy me some cutesy knickknack because you have no idea what to bring...bring yourself.  That is it.  Both my brother and I have come to realize that "things" are not what are needed.  Kindness is.  So, I vowed to not get him anything that needed to be put "in" the house.  Instead, I found a way to let him know that my heart wishes him well but without the needless buying of things.  It has become a custom for me to give him hurricane debris!  Yep, hurricane debris!

  Storms have a tendency to wash just about everything imaginable up in the yard on the tidal surge.  That stuff gets stuck and it is a chore to clear it.  So, I hit upon the idea of giving it as a gift!  Now before you think I merely haul a wheelbarrow of garbage to his house, let me explain.  My brother loves all things to do with our Coastal living especially the overlooked things.  So, I have taken to salvaging driftwood from the storm surge lines and creating some oddity to give him.  We get a good laugh and then, if the whim strikes him, he can use the piece as firewood.  (I always remind him of that option!)  As an example, last year I created a life sized Great Blue Heron out of driftwood.  Life sized as in 4ft tall!   He loved it!  The crazy bird still stands on his deck with its head stretched high as it looks over the Bay.  In fact, he claims that everyone that visits loves his bird.  Aww...now I feel pretty good about that debris!

  This year, in keeping with the theme, I decided to get in the holiday spirit and make a Christmas Tree of sorts for him.  Again, that hurricane debris driftwood came into play.  The tree was put together with screws and jute string, strung with some mini lights and draped with Spanish moss.  I topped it with a rubber starfish that has been "floating" around here for years and tied on some shells as ornaments.  Once finished, I hauled the 3ft tall tree over to his place.  Yep...he loved it and immediately hung it on the wall of his porch.  Each evening, those little lights twinkle brightly as the glorified sticks of driftwood hold the decorations. 

  All of this just goes to show that Christmas is in the heart not in your hand.  Give something that shows you care.  Hurricane debris gifts?  Yep, I care enough to get creative with the "firewood" I give to him.  We both get a good laugh and lots of hugs.  You might be wondering what he gave to me?  Well, my gift is a bunch of really neat pieces of an antique chandelier that he found.  He handed me a box of the dismantled light parts and I was thrilled.  He knows how much I like to repurpose old things in my creations!  My head is already spinning with ideas of how to use the treasures!  Merry Christmas, folks.  Don't give cluttering gifts...give time...give love...give from the heart...or....give hurricane debris!  It is great to have a brother who can find the love behind a gift of driftwood.

Be Appreciative!

  A few years back, my brother brought home a pathetic looking plant.  "Here.  Take this.  I found it on the side of the road."  Well, gee!  Thanks!  I guess.  The plant was all withered and brittle, the pot had a huge crack in the side and I really could not tell what type of plant it was.  Well, I would try.  If a brother comes handing you a gift, you accept even if it is a dead plant.  Perhaps, he had more faith in my gardening ability than I did.  

  Well, I did try.  The plant was taken out of the broken pot and the roots cleaned of the hardened soil.  Then, the stalks were cut back to about six inches above the root ball.  The whole thing was replanted in fresh soil and given a nice dousing with the water hose.  After caring for the plant it finally started to show new growth!  I had hope! 

 

  Now, the plant is about 4ft in height and has dozens of healthy stalks. The leaves are lush and colorful!  Darling Daughter has informed me that this is a Hawaiian Ti Plant and is supposed to bring good luck.  Nice! I had no idea!   It is funny because my nephew recently sent me cuttings from a Ti Plant.  Now I have two beautiful plants!

  I guess the point is to always be gracious about accepting gifts even if you think it has seen better days.   Be appreciative of all things. Things can change given a little time and a lot of love.  

Sunsets, Woods Fires and Peach Switches!

   Yesterday evening, the sky was ablaze with brilliance.  The setting sun had cast an eerie glow between the pines and I almost missed the opportunity to witness it.  On a whim, I decided on one last stroll through the Small Gardens.  Again, I was thankful for the camera giving me the chance to get ONE photograph before it had enough for the day.  (It seems that one is its limit for the day.)  

  The fiery glow brought back memories of "fire watch".  Whenever Pop would get word from a neighbor that a woods fire was nearby, we were all "put on guard".  As kids, we knew we had better be alert and let Pop know if we smelled or saw smoke.  It was of high importance because, not only would the house be in danger, but the barns, as well.  The farm animals needed protection, too.  With no fire department anywhere near, it was up to each of us to do our part.  

  There was one time that my brother and I disobeyed the rules about setting fires.  Before we were even school age, he and I decided to "boil" some chicken eggs that we found while searching for an errant hen.  Her nest was found near an upturned washing machine drum that had been used as a feed bin at some point.  We gathered pine straw and a few sticks to start our fire UNDER the tub.  Our eggs were in an old metal coffee can heating on the top (which was actually the bottom of the overturned tub).  Brilliant!   We were going to feast on those eggs!  Well, that did not happen.  We did not take into consideration that the eggs were rotten, that we needed water to boil them and that Pop would smell the smoke.    You can imagine the outcome.  Without water, the rotten eggs exploded and covered us with the most awful stench then...Pop came on the scene.  Oops!  Whew!  Were we ever in trouble!  For any city folks who have never had to suffer a whipping with a green peach branch, trust me when I say "IT HURTS!"  Was that child abuse?  Nope!  THAT, my friends, was discipline (which is something that is sorely lacking in the world today).  Our stupid act could have had a dire outcome for the entire family, the farm animals and our neighbors.  Thankfully, Pop caught us!  My brother and I never....NEVER lit another fire in the woods!  (We, also, learned the proper way to boil eggs.)  Crazy to think a simple sunset can evoke memories from back in the dusty corners of the brain.  

Salvaged Plants

  Sometimes when gardening, the unexpected works best.  Expensive things can just get in the way while "recycled" or "repurposed" ones seem to fit the bill.  I have used many odd things as flower pots or yard structures.  Usually, these are donated by a hurricane and it is easier to make use of stuff than try to find a way of discarding it. 

  The same goes for plants.  I am finding more and more that purchasing seeds and plants is ridiculous as the seeds do not germinate or the plants die quickly.  Case in point.  Just recently, my nephew sent a surprise package of assorted tropical seeds and "starts" from Hawaii.  He lives on an island in the South Pacific and was passing through Honolulu when he spied the packets.  Knowing I am game to try most anything, he sent an assortment.  Sadly, most did not even sprout even though I followed the instructions to a T.  At about the same time, my brother salvaged a dead looking plant from the garbage and brought it to me.  He thought I may need the pot.   Well, I did but when I started removing the dead plant, I noticed that one small shoot appeared to still have some life in it.  This was one of the same plants that were in the parcel from my nephew.  Well, it could not hurt to try and salvage the plant!

  Needless to say, that plant is thriving!  The expensive ones are dead.  Perhaps the salvaged one just appreciated being helped and is rewarding my efforts.  Now I have a lovely Hawaiian Ti plant that is doing well surrounded by purple basil.  Nice!

Show A Little Kindness

   Every now and again, I do something that I will most likely regret in the near future.  It is usually one of those "I just could not help myself" moments.  I know that there are good reasons for not following through with the deed but, then, I do it anyway.  Another thing, it usually involves rescuing some critter...one that is bound to be a problem, at some point.

  Earlier, my brother came down the lane with one of those huge wheeled garbage cans.  He asked if I had any trash that I needed to bring to the road for pickup.  Well, yes, as usual, there were a few bags.  I politely protested that he did not need to come get my garbage but he insisted that I did not need to tote it all the way down the lane.  (Goodness!  I have wonderful brothers!)  So we filled the can and he went to slam the lid shut.  WAIT!  Bewildered, he stopped and stared at me.  I had seen a beautiful moth on the inside of the can.  I could not let it just die!  So, my brother patiently waited until I lifted the moth from the can. 

  The coolness of the morn had the moth a bit sluggish and it welcomed the warmth of my hand.  While I talked with my brother, the moth stayed put on my palm.  A bit later, I tried to shoo it onto the azalea bush but the moth really wished to stay on its cozy resting spot.  Finally, I gently tickled it enough to make it crawl onto the leaves. I felt good about saving the moth...until...I remembered that moths lay eggs that hatch into caterpillars which usually eat leaves...of my plants!  Uh, oh!

  Regardless of the damage the offspring of this moth may bring to the garden plants, I am still glad that I rescued it from certain death.  All creatures deserve a shot at life.  Folks, be kind.  This old world needs that right now.

Crows, Scarecrows and Memories

  About mid afternoon, another ruckus could be heard out in the yard.  This one, however, was not nearly as exciting as the one sent up by the eagles.  Dozens of crows were circling above the house and each one felt the need to caw incessantly.  As I sat watching, more and more crows gathered. The birds flew about the place making their noise for a good hour before finally drifting off toward the east.  While I normally am ok with a crow or two hanging about the place, I was not too thrilled to see this many. Thoughts of "Good riddance!" fluttered through the mind as the crows left the area but. at the same time. a silly memory bounced in there, too.

  Back on the farm, Pop grew a lot of corn.  He always had his fields planted long before others thought the weather was warm enough.  The corn was necessary as food, a saleable crop and as food for the livestock.  Acre after acre was planted and cared for during late February and early March.  Then another crop was put in during midsummer.  This was one of the most important crops that the small farm produced since it fed so many.   The first harvesting was sold and also supplied our needs at the present time.  From this harvesting, we also prepared for the winter months.  Hundreds of ears were husked and frozen for later.  After the freezers were full, the remainder of the corn was allowed to dry on the stalk.  Once dried, we would harvest truckloads of the ears and store them for feed for the livestock.  Out of these dried ears, Pop would always save the largest, fullest ears to be used as seed for the next year.  It was one of my jobs to hand shell the kernels (from the cobs), inspect the seeds for varmints such as weevils and then store them in tight containers.   Corn, indeed, was an important crop.

  With this early planting, came the threat of crows pulling up the tiny plants to get to the seed underground.  When a flock the size of the one today would enter the fields, they could ruin the entire crop in a matter of a few hours.  The birds would methodically bob up and down the straight rows pulling the tiny plants.  The seed was plucked from the end and the plant laid to the wayside.  Pop was always listening for the crows and often had to dash to the field with his shotgun to scare them away.  Only occasionally would he actually kill a bird with those shots.  It was not his intention to shoot them but to scare them from the fields.  He was a firm believer that you did not kill anything that was not to be used as food.  

  I remember when I was a youngster in grade school, my teacher had put up decorations for fall/Halloween.  One of those decorations was a nice sized scarecrow.  This started my brain to thinking about why Pop had to shoot at the crows if he could just build a scarecrow.  I was determined to help Pop with his duties on the farm!  I would build a scarecrow so he did not have to race to the fields when he heard the crows cawing!  What a dutiful daughter I was!  I worked hard on my scarecrow and even convinced my brother to help me.  He and I were cohorts in so many escapades as kids but this one was at least helpful...so we thought.  With clothes from the clothesline, a few sticks from the woods and hay from the barn, we made quite the structure!  When we proudly brought our scarecrow out to show everyone, it received a round of giggles from our older siblings, a scolding from Mom for using her clean laundry and a thoughtful "Well, we better not put that in the field since I may need those pants."  Pop suggested that a better use would be as a decoration for the Halloween Carnival."  Pop was always the head of the local school's PTA (Parent-Teacher Association) which hosted the best carnivals for all of the local kids!  My brother and I were proud to drag that poor scarecrow to the school that weekend for the carnival, Pop was probably appreciative for the help (at least, I hope) and the crows were saved from dying by choking back giggles at the "terrifying scarecrow" in the fields.  Yes, it was that pathetic. 

  Isn't it funny how a simple thing like a flock of birds can trigger a memory so lost in time?  This was one of those occasions that laid hidden behind cobwebs in the dark recesses of my brain for some fifty years or so before being brought to light again.  Maybe I should thank the crows for jogging thoughts of happy times!

The Cookie Mallet!

  Down in the Deep South, we try our best to pass along kindness to others and we repay kindness done to us.  It is one of those things that we learned from an early age.  Be nice to folks.  It never hurt anyone to show a bit of kindness and returning a favor is just as important as doing one in the first place.  More oft than not, folks do not expect anything in return but, you can bet your bottom dollar, they are tickled pink to see something come their way.  It was when I was "returning a kindness" that I made a happy discovery.  A couple of days ago, Son had to repair the pump on the well.  The air volume control went a bit haywire and started spraying water out of its side.  We called around in search of the part but could not find one handy so he went to ask my brother for help.  Son was duly instructed on how to jury-rig the pump until the part could be ordered.    That bit of kindness saved us a lot of trouble and we did not go without water.  So...it was my turn to share a kindness.

  Learning from Mom, all of my aunts and my grandmother, baking is the best way to let folks know you appreciate them.  There is just something special about home baked goodies!  Knowing my brother loves cookies, I decided to bake up a batch for him.  The dough for peanut butter cookies was mixed and I had all of those cute little balls rolled when I realized the time consuming part was next.  Pressing the balls down with a fork always bores me.  Press this way...press that way.  Why?  If the whole process is merely to smash the cookie flat and leave some little ridges to add crisp, there had to be an easier way.  Thoughts of what to use started rolling about in the brain.  Potato smasher??  Spatula??  Duh!  Meat tenderizer mallet!! Yep!!  Now that is using the brain!  Here was using a bit of ingenuity to get the job done!

  Who uses one of those things to mutilate meat anyway?  Just buy a decent piece of meat in the first place.  Those little pyramid shaped mounds on the metal worked like a charm and, in just a few moments, the entire sheet of cookies was flattened!  The hash marks were perfectly spaced and the cookies were evenly flattened.  Keep in mind that I GENTLY pressed the cookie dough!  I did not smack it like you would using a hammer.  GENTLY!!   Good job...but would they crisp well with this method?  

  Yes, indeed!  The mallet trick worked well.  The cookies were soft with a slightly crispy top.  (Actually, these were some of the best peanut butter cookies that I have ever made!)  I quickly packed a container full of cookies and trotted myself over to my brother's place to return the kindness.  He was thrilled by the act and happily started munching his cookies.  Favor returned and I now have found a use for a dysfunctional kitchen utensil!  Cookie Mallet for the win!

                                           

Thank Goodness for Brothers!

  When it rains, it pours.  For the past month with the heat, we have been wishing for rain.  The afternoon thunderstorms become a welcome treat even with the high winds, thunder and lightning.  Now that the rains have started, they are nonstop.  This makes me happy regardless that a few of the storms have been rather formidable. 

  Late yesterday afternoon, the winds picked up and lightning bounced around the Bayou like no body's business. Two more pine trees received powerful strikes which will most likely kill them. Then last night, I heard the telltale sound of wood creaking.  Fearing that the tall pine that stands near the house might come tumbling down, I eased my way into the small entryway to peer out into the darkness.  A lightning strike in the distance eased my thoughts of a tree falling on the house.  The pine was swaying but not appearing to be breaking.  About that time, another creak and a crash to the west of the Little Bayou House.  The next lightning flash allowed me to see what appeared to be the top of a tree at the end of the lane.  Well, at least it was not on the house!

  This morning, I found that it was not the top of a tree but rather a huge hickory limb that had come crashing to the ground.  Thankfully, it missed the power lines by a mere few feet!  Ok, so that had to be removed.  Tugging on the limb did nothing but tire me but it was not long before I heard the chug, chug, chug of a tractor.  Thank goodness for brothers!  My brother laughed at my lack of progress and informed me that it was times like these that tractors are useful. Within minutes, he had that half of tree moved and all was well.  Until....creak, groan, creak....He and I looked up in a nearby pine tree.  "Looks like we might be moving another branch tomorrow if this rain keeps up." he said.  Yep, I do love a good storm but not as much as I do brothers!

Oh, the things I do!

    I was not feeling up to par this evening.  Hard work caught up with me and I had sore muscles.  After pushing a lawnmower for three hours this morning plus doing a lot of painting, my shoulders hurt, my legs felt like a ton of bricks and I was dead tired.  Then, my brother's sweet girlfriend sent me a message that Dear Brother wanted me to take a photograph of the full moon tonight.  Well, I did what was requested of me.  I got up, slipped on my shoes and headed down to the pier.  Just for Dear Brother, I braved all sorts of monsters!  I mean, my goodness!  There could have been ghosties, ghoulies and long-leggedy beasties out there!  Not to mention a cottonmouth.  Still, I went.  I took the photograph and came back to the Little Bayou House.

  After I got back inside, I realized that this was the night of the Blue Moon....actually the last Blue Moon of 2018.  Well, that was special!  So, I needed more photographs for Dear Brother.  That said, I did not really want to go all the way back down to the pier but I got a brilliant idea!  With all of the work being done on the house as of late, we have a set of scaffolding set up on the south side of the house.  Well, perfect!  I opened the window and climbed out onto the scaffolding!  Perfect view of the brilliant moon!  Of course, anyone who may have seen me climbing out the window may have thought I was nuts but I had to get a photograph of that moon!  By this time it was almost an obsession!  

  Needless to say, now that I am back inside, the body is being racked with aches and pains....BUT!  I got that photograph for my brother!  Oh, the things I do....for my brothers!  I sure hope they appreciate their baby sister!

An Injured Tern And A Kind Brother

  I have decided that I have the best brother in the world.  The small tern that was injured during the recent hurricane needed to be tended and fed.  Hurricane Nate may not have ravaged the Coast as some storms do but it still took its toll on wildlife.  The little bird was in dire straits but was on my brother's pier this morning instead of ours.  Despite my constant coaxing, the bird would not fly to our pier.  I had a sinking feeling that things had taken a turn for the worse for the tern. 

  About an hour after I noticed that the tern would not fly, my brother came down to his pier.  We said our usual "hellos" then I asked if he would check on the bird.  I, also, asked if he could catch some minnows for the bird as it could not fend for itself.  My brother never thought twice about picking up his net and catching menhaden just to feed a bird.  Now, whether he actually did that for the good of the bird or to appease his little sister, I will never know but it sure warmed the heart.  Seeing this guy go out of his way to help an injured bird sure made me feel good!

  Sad to say, after my brother caught the fish, cut them and hand fed the little bird, the tern could not swallow.  The bird was just too ill to eat.  My little friend did not appear to be recovering.  Tomorrow will probably find the little tern released from its pain but not in the way I had hoped.  God speed, Little Tern.  Fly happy.  Thank you, Jimmy, for having a kind heart and trying to help.

You Are Trash!!!

  Some folks would much rather toss things in the garbage than to spend a bit of time and effort to revive, reuse or repurpose it.  The thought of "making do" is out of the realm of many folks. The "toss it and buy a new" mentality has filled the landfills beyond capacity and have literally made dumps of so much of our beautiful Earth.  This makes me sad. Personally, I have a tendency to use things even beyond their durability stage.  I save things to the point that my kids worry about my "hoarding problem".  I figure it is not really hoarding if you actually use the items.  It is more like commonsense.

  This "Don't toss it" thought must be something that was drilled into my head as a kid.  I can remember Granddad telling me to "Put that up.  You may need it some day."  He was right.  So it is easy to see why my brothers fall right in that almost hoarding group as well.  My oldest brother was doing yard work for an elderly lady when he noticed that her neighbor put a potted plant in the trash.  Granted, the begonia was past its prime and looked sort of sad.  He felt bad for the poor plant and snagged it off the trash heap.  After a bit of loving care, he brought the plant down to me.  "Here.  I got you this out of the trash."  Sweet!  My brother obviously thinks very highly of me if he brings me trash....hmmmm.  Anyway, he handed me the plant, gave strict instructions on how to care for it and said he had beans cooking back at his house.   With that, I became the proud owner of a begonia. 

  Since the plant came to reside here, it has bloomed profusely and is now making seed pods.  The thing has doubled in size with my following his detailed care instructions.  The man sure can make things grow.  But just think.  This plant was doomed.  Tossed aside as trash by the previous owners.  How sad.   What a waste.

A Bit of Brightness in the Midst of Drear

  It sounds like a cliche opening for a scary novel but....It was a dark, stormy night on the Bayou....but, it truly is dark and stormy.  As the winds rage outside, they are pushing the tide well up into the yard.   With the (at times) gale force winds, a drizzly rain is pelting the rooftop. Tornado watches and warnings were the norm for the day making it a fine day to straighten the craft room which has become a sort of dumping ground for anything and everything.  This chore was started a few days ago and then was interrupted by more urgent tasks.  Today, I did no more than pull the tiny room into a more organized chaos.  It is that bad.  Still, now at least I can reach my paints and canvases so I am inspired to create once again. The storming has been lingering around for the past few days making such chores a welcome break from boredom.  In fact, I do like this weather so I suppose you could call me a "foul-weather friend"!

  All of this talk about weather leads up to one thing.  Yesterday morning in the midst of all of the drear, a knock fell upon the front door.  I thought for sure this was my sister-in-law, Cynthia, since she loves to come have coffee with me during thunderstorms.  Personally, I like staying home but her visits are always welcome.  However, this was not her!  The knock was heralding the arrival of my brother from down the lane.  He will stop in occasionally just to tell me some funny story or bring the mail but not this time.  This time, he brought a smile in the form of a flower. While in reality, he brought the flower to me for identification, I took it as he brought me a gift.  It is not often one receives flowers from a brother!

  The flower in question was a camellia.  While he knew that much, he was in hopes that I knew the type of camellia.  I informed him that this was called a "Purple Dawn" and was a favorite of mine.  The name derives from the fact that as the bloom ages, the edges start to turn from bright pink to have a blush of purple. It is a lovely flower .He was extremely proud of the fact that his bush had dozens of blooms on it even though it was just a little over a year old.  He had rooted it from a bush from our aunt and uncle's place next door.  "I just did get it out of their yard in time." he informed me.  I knew exactly what he meant as I had heard the bulldozers rumbling around the place not long ago.  It saddened us both that all of the beautiful camellias, roses, azaleas and bulbs were plowed up from their growing spots.  None of the once-gorgeous yard remained. 

  Sometimes progress is just too much for me to take.  I see things like our wooded neighborhood being cut to the ground, critter homes being demolished, centuries old oak trees uprooted and decades old bushes smashed.  To me, this is not progress.  In my view, this is more destructive than most storms as this is controllable.  

  I am happy beyond belief that my brother was able to at least salvage a small camellia bush from my aunt and uncle's old home place.  I think it would please them to know that he cared.  I know it pleased me that he shared a bit of beauty with me during this dreary weather.

The Plant Doctor

  My brother has the proverbial "green thumb".  I think he inherited this from Pop because, like him, my brother can make anything grow.  Give him a dead stick and within a week, he will bring you a flourishing plant. No matter the type, it grows and grows well.  Today's plant is a Fiddle Leaf Fig.  

  This morning, I heard his truck pull up the lane.  I opened the door to come face to face with a huge plant.  "Ummm, I brought this for Elizabeth."  Alrighty then.  Yesterday was indeed Darling Daughter's birthday.  My brother apologized for being a day late but "Since you had company yesterday, I did not want to tote it down."  Company...since when is family company!  Ha!  But still, here he was with a huge tree of a plant.  I asked how to care for the thing.  My figuring was to get the information direct from the expert!  "Ummm, just water it when it needs it.  Cut it back when it gets too tall.  Make sure to keep it inside but let it get some light.  Oh, and don't bruise it."  Once again...alrighty then. The first of those instructions seemed easy enough if Elizabeth can figure out when her new plant is thirsty.  Knowing her, she will not trim it until it hits the ceiling, so the plant will be ok for at least a few months in that aspect.  Keep it inside...I cannot imagine her lugging this tree outside so we can say that it is safe from sunburn.  Now...that "don't bruise" thing.  How do you bruise a plant?  I admit that I am not exactly easy on plants.  Mine usually stay outside and the wind from the Bay whips them around like nobody's business.  I'm used to plants that can take a beating not ones that I have to baby!  Perhaps it is a good thing the plant goes home with her tomorrow!  (Hopefully, I can refrain from abusing the plant while it is here!  My goodness, I sure would not wish to bruise it!)  He grew this one from a cutting in just three months...lets hope I do not kill it overnight.

  Still, I think this was about the sweetest gesture my brother could have shown.  He knows that Darling Daughter and her husband are just starting out in their new home and what better gift than one of a living plant.  They have this fantastic room with windows on three sides. These windows are shaded by a large oak tree so this should be the perfect spot for the Fiddle Leaf Fig.  I shall give her the expert growing advice from her uncle!  Hopefully, the thing will do as well for her as it has for him.....hopefully. Otherwise, we might have to have him make house-calls!  My brother...the Plant Doctor!

A Time Long Ago

  Once upon a time long, long ago, there was a little farm.  On these acres lived a farmer, his wife and five kids.  They did not have a lot as far as money but they were happy.  They did not seem to need a lot of cash.  Sure, it would have been nice to be able to afford what others had but, in the long run, none of that mattered.  The kids worked hard in the fields, played hard in the yard and woods and ate heartily from what was raised in the fields.  The farmer and his wife never complained of any hardships even though, at times, there was simply not enough to even buy a loaf of bread.  Instead, cornbread sufficed and did a grand job of brightening the spirits of all.  Simple things like family meals, songs sung while the wife played the piano and stories told while sitting on the front porch after dark filled the days and evenings of the family. There was no television, fancy clothes or new toys.  Even during the bleakest of times, love pulled the family closer.  All was good.

  Then, as families do, the kids grew up, moved out and had families of their own.  Without the helping hands of five kids, the crops were pared down to a minimum and the house seemed empty. Grandkids visited, thought it was great fun to "help" in the gardens and then went back home. The farmer and his wife aged and eventually passed on from this world.  The little farm was sold and a subdivision took its place. It was sad.

  But!  No matter how much things change, they sometimes remain the same.  Yep, that statement is in stark contrast with its own self but things have a way of coming a full circle.  What was once, will always be again.  Today while sitting in the cooling breeze at midday, I watched as my brother rode his tractor about his yard.  A whole flood of memories flashed about in the brain.  His appearance was so much like that of Pop.  I had thoughts of the little farm, of Pop and Mom, of my childhood spent in sheer bliss.  I thought of Christmases without new toys, of a house without air conditioning, and of the sound of rain on the tin roof.  I thought of homemade jams and jellies, fresh baked bread and dresses made from flour sacks.  I thought of sitting by the fireside doing homework on cold nights, sitting on the porch swing listening to tales of long ago told by Pop and visits by cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents.  I thought of days spent in the fields either in the blistering heat of summer or the icy cold of winter,  of nights listening to the frogs and watching the fireflies and of sharing a room with my sister.  I thought...I reminisced...All because of a sight of my brother on a tractor.  For a bit, I missed all of that.  A tear rolled down my cheek.  All is good.