What Better Way?

  Mark and I made a hike to the pier at daybreak.  The sunrise was a thing of beauty.  With it, peacefulness befell the Bayou.  After leaving the pier, we edged our way around the shoreline to where the Bayou makes the bend around behind the Little Bayou House.  Almost instantly, we were engulfed by a sweet scent wafting in the soft breeze. This was not the spicy aroma of the jasmine that bedecks the southmost arbor but rather the flowery scent of the albizia better known as mimosa.  The hot pink blooms looked like little fluff balls in the morning sunlight!  Both Mark and I stopped in our tracks.  I reached up to draw down the branch.  What better way is there to start the morn? The hike, the sunrise and sweet-scented mimosa blooms make for a happy morning, but all good things must come to an end.  Our delightful morning was shortlived.

  The serenity we experienced early in the day was the calm before the storm.  Four hours later, winds whipped about the hillside and even made the windows rattle and shake.   Rains became torrential causing the garden to flood.  A storm settled in for the day and raged throughout the evening hours.  While I sat listening to the sounds of the gale, I pondered if this was setting the stage for the summer.  Will we be pounded by tropical systems this year?  Will another bad hurricane wreak havoc on the area?  I hope and pray not.  

Lost in a Surreal World

  This morning's sun was completely blocked by a thick blanket of fog.  A total whiteout of calm had taken over the Bayou after the severe weather that had ravaged the area last night. Once again, high winds, hail and torrential rains pelted the Little Bayou House but, once again, it held strong and kept us safe.  The fog brought with it peace.

  The morning hike served as a good time to reflect on things as nothing could be seen further than about twenty feet ahead.  The footsteps were soft on the wet leaves and drips could be heard echoing through the woods.  Once on the pier, things felt strange.  Calls from mergansers and geese were the only things that broke the stillness.  The damp air over the Bay proved to be too much for my light jacket so I headed back to the woods.  There, the overhanging branches provided at least some shelter.

  It was here that I found spiderwebs suspended between the branches of many of the low lying branches. As usual, the simplest things enthrall me.  Each web was strung with droplets of water that had accumulated overnight.  These droplets sparkled like jewels even in the low light beneath the canopy of tree limbs.  The strength of the thin webs was remarkable.  Even with dozens and dozens of droplets on a strand, the web held.  Yet, with the whisper of a breeze or the gentlest of touch, the droplets would shower down to the ground like pearls from a broken necklace.  The web held yet the jewels fell and were broken into a thousand pieces. I was in deep thought about the spiderwebs when the sudden bark of a coyote sent my thoughts whirling back into reality.  Time to head back closer to the house.

 

 

Calm before the storm.

There is a sense of urgency on the Coast this week. A tropical storm is brewing in the Gulf of Mexico and even though it is expected to move away from our area, problems are arising. Alex is a broad storm covering much of the Gulf with squally weather and it is rapidly intensifying. Already, these squalls are moving into this area with higher than normal tides and some strong winds. Mind you, not winds that cause damage..winds that push water. Winds that push oil. Oil is on our beaches and is at the mouth of the Bay, soon to be threatening my placid little bayou. This sense of urgency makes us feel the need to prepare for the arrival of the oil and tar balls. There is also a sense of despair among many of us. Frustration at what seems like the eons it is taking to cap this leaking well. Frustration at what seems like our inability to fight this battle. Where do we begin? Here on the Coast, we are used to enduring storms. We know how to prepare for them..we know how "ride out" hurricanes..we know how to clean up and repair after them. This is a new experience, though..a storm like no other. One that will likely cause more damage than any hurricane. In spite of all of this, there is also a sense of unity among the locals. As usual, we will band together, sharing ideas, emotions and love of our waters. This area is known to pick up the pieces and get on with our lives, making changes where necessary but still keeping our heritage intact. We will survive this, too.

Tonight though, the Bay was calm and beautiful. If I had no news of the looming problems, I would have thought that it was the perfect evening. The rains of today cooled the air to an absolutely marvelous 77 degrees and the winds calmed to just a very slight breeze. My evening visit to the pier, was rewarded with amazing sights and sounds. Black Skimmer birds were out in full force along the shore getting their fill of minnows and tiny mullet. Purple martins and bats dotted the sky scooping up the many gnats and mosquitoes. Whip-Poor-Wills called back and forth to each other from the woods. The sights and sounds that make it the best place on Earth! Glorious! I wish I could preserve all of this like I do the fruit and vegetables from the garden and save it for a later date.

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