Hurricanes, Shrimp, Gars and Childhood Memories

   Since Son has completed the repairs on the pier, fishing, shrimping and crabbing have resumed.  It is almost unheard of to have so much activity going on in the Bay and Bayou...at least, in recent years.  The last time that I recall catching this many shrimp from a pier was way back in the late '60s.  Right before Hurricane Camille hit when I was just a kid, Pop was bringing home buckets and buckets of shrimp that he caught with his net.  Then...along came the hurricane and we were in a fine fix.  This was before the handy-dandy generators that are so popular today.  Pop rigged up a homemade "generator" of sorts from an old lawnmower engine to run our pump but it did not supply enough energy to keep the freezers going.  What was Mom to do with a freezer full of quickly thawing shrimp?  Of course...feed the linemen that were trying their best to restore the electricity to our house!  Pop built a makeshift outdoor burner (wood fired) and brought out the huge canning pots to boil shrimp.  Living on a farm, we had plenty of potatoes and eggs to make potato salad and supply other veggies as sides.  Word got out that we had homecooked meals and the hungry workers were soon feasting.  Mom and Pop both said that those were the "best parties" they ever hosted!  Plus, the hundreds of pounds of shrimp did not go to waste!

  Memories of the shrimp feasts came tumbling from the brain as I casted the net for yet more shrimp the other morning.  Our freezers are full.  Our kids' freezers are (or will be once they come) full.  We have supplied our elderly friends with enough peeled shrimp to give them multiple meals.  Plus, extended family members have received their shares.  Still...I catch.  Mark catches.  We both head and peel the shrimp and feed the needs of so many.  It is a good feeling.

  Along with those pounds and pounds of shrimp, the fish are biting so I always throw out a line as I am shrimping.  Mark usually heads out in the little skiff but I stay back on the pier.  While he is catching redfish and trout, I catch nothing but gars!  It seems that young gars are following the schools of shrimp so the other fish are staying a bit further out.  I kept seeing huge breaks in the water just at the shoreline so I figured perhaps the redfish were dining on shrimp.  Nope...gars.  Just gars.  Do I want a gar for anything?  Nope...not at all, so they get released back into the Bay.

  Those gars even brought back a memory of a "fishing trip" with two of my brothers.  They had found a scuttled boat and tried to make repairs.  Well, those repairs were not the best since they were done by two kids.  Still, I was game to go along with the adventure when they asked.  I was plum happy to be going with my big brothers ANYWHERE!  Little did I know we were going gar fishing on the other side of the Bayou.  They had seen some huge gars there and thought it might be fun to wrestle in one.  Also, little did I know that I was to be designated as "chief bailer".  After paddling to their fishing spot, I was handed a coffee can and told to bail out the water that was steadily seeping into the boat.  Ummm...a little girl with a tin can is not much defense against a myriad of leaks in a boat but I was too scared of the huge gars they were hooking to do anything but bail!  Obviously, there was a good reason that boat had been scuttled!  Oh, the things kids used to be able to do.  Back in the day, we were kids.  We had adventures.  We had childhoods. 

  It is pretty funny how certain things can pull memories out of the cobwebs in the corners of our brains.  When you are doing something repetitively like throwing the net, the mind wanders and recalls delightful things from the past...or, more likely, I am just getting old and wishing for times past.  Either way, the fish, shrimp and crabs are plentiful and I plan on catching and sharing as many as I can.  Perhaps along the way, I can share a few happy memories, as well.

The "Clothes Tree"

   For the past few months, I have been doing a sort of purge of the Little Bayou House.  No, I am not tossing everything to the wayside.  The place will still be filled to the brim with the oddities that interest, amuse or bewilder me.  Those things that spark an idea or those things that bring comfort will stay.  Great Grandmother's painting of a black sheep among white will hang next to the antique lithograph.  Mom's embroidered picture of deer will proudly be displayed next to my daughter's drawing of Edgar Allan Poe.  A possum skull will defiantly sit next to the framed catfish backbone and sea turtle shell (all found items).  Also, porcelain teacups, wooden horses, antique jewelry and even a steampunk plague doctor's mask will randomly remain interspersed.  Yep, the Little Bayou House is a "House of Curiosities" and I like it that way.  It matters not what others think since, if it bothers them, they do not have to come.  I do it for me...me alone.  I admit to being a bit eccentric and love the eclectic mess that defines my house. Still, that purge IS happening.  It is more an effort to return my kids' stuff to them.  They are all neatly settled in their impeccable homes so it is time.  It is time for their stuff to be their problem instead of "Mom, don't get rid of this!  I want it but do not want to clutter up our home."  Sorry...take it home or it is going out to the trash bin, being donated or being altered to become a clue hunt prop.  Take your choice.

  That said, one old steamer trunk held a surprise.  All of my daughter's old dance recital costumes were neatly folded inside.  They were amazingly well preserved after these nigh on 30 yrs of being stowed away.  Well, they can go home now!  I carefully hand-washed each piece and hung it to dry.  Since my clothesline has still not been replaced, each costume was hung on a hanger then among the pear tree branches!  Oh!  What a colorful addition to the garden!  (It is probably a good thing that I have no near neighbors to complain about my antics.)  Anyway, the costumes dried nicely and are now packed in a box to be sent home with Darling Daughter.  If...if she takes them.  It did occur to me while washing them that the sequin covered fabric would make excellent doll clothes for the many (MANY) naked dolls she also left behind! (Wonder whatever happened to their clothes?)  We shall see if that reuse will happen or if she decides to clutter her place with the costumes!

 What I found humorous about this whole thing is that I sent her a message that I had gotten a new clothes tree and it was beautiful.  I merely was trying to get her attention as my messages of "You need to come get this stuff." usually go without a response.  So...I did get a response to this message! "Great, Mom!  But what is a clothes tree?"  Oh, my!  Are clothes trees a thing of the past where no one even knows what they are any more?  Geez!  I am getting old!  After a bit of an explanation as to what a clothes tree is, I eased my way into the costume dilemma.  She was more interested in the clothes tree.  Ok..ok...so a clothes tree is basically a hat rack!  Mine is not!  I was speaking in jest there!  I sent a photograph of the brightly adorned pear tree.  "Ooohh, my costumes!  Those bring back memories!"  Yes!  You need to take your memories home!  "But they look nice on the pear tree!  It would be mite bland without the colors flapping in the breeze."  Something tells me Darling Daughter is evading the issue here. 

  I will definitely give this "gift-giving" thing one more try before cutting the costumes down to become doll-size or turning the CD storage box into a clue hunt puzzle. Each kid will be presented a huge box of stuff when they are all gathered at the Little Bayou House for Thanksgiving.  They can reminisce over their childhood and then either keep or toss. Those things that can be donated or reused will be reboxed.  Those things that are beyond hope will be carted to the roadside for pickup.  No excuses...no ifs, ands, or buts...no "Keep it for me so I do not clutter our house."  It is up to them, this time!  And I will definitely give them all a lesson in what a clothes tree is!  Geez!  

Wishing....wishing

   This far south, we do not get the beautiful fall foliage show that occurs in the more northern states.  We have to be happy with an occasional orange or red leaf that may slowly drift from the gum trees or popcorn trees.  Sometimes, the maples will put on a show if the weather is reasonable but the drought has browned the leaves before any color change has happened.  So...we take what we get.   Here I am just wishing for some autumn-like show but, instead, I am crunching dried leaves.  

  My hike this morning did bring a smile as I found two...yes, TWO...signs of fall!  First, as I made my way around back behind the greenhouse and grape arbors, I was tickled to find a couple of wild persimmons still hanging on the tree.  The little gold blobs are not ripe and would cause me to pucker up something fierce, if I tried to eat one.  The drought caused huge droppage of the fruit early on and the possums will most likely get the few that hang on the limbs before the first frost makes them sweet.  Still, I saw them and that brought a flood of happy memories.  On the old farm place, there was a few wild persimmon trees in the woods between the house and fields.  I can recall always trying to snitch a snack even though I was warned of the puckering and drying effect that I would surely experience.  The high content of tannins in the unripe fruit make them...ummm...rather unpalatable.  Still...autumn!  Wee bits of autumn dangled from the limbs of the persimmon trees!

  Then, as I meandered near the old canebrake, a second color blast brought vibes of fall and more memories.  A beautyberry shrub had the bright purplish berries starting to ripen.  Though, sparse due to the weather, a few stalks had the nice, rounded clumps on the branches.  These things always mesmerized me as a kid because what kid does not like purple (of any kind) and I loved watching the chickens hop up and down as they stripped the branches of the small berries.  To a kid, seeing a chicken hop is an amusing thing.  Seeing hundreds of chickens hop is downright comical. (Yes, Pop had hundreds of chickens when I was a kid.)  The beautyberry sighting brought a fit of giggles as I thought of those goofy chickens bouncing around the woods.

  So, fall is here, I guess.  I found my two bits of evidence that the summer is waning and perhaps cooler weather is in the works.  I sure hope so.  

Faerie Tale Ball

   When I was a child, my grandparents lived just down the road from the farm.  In fact, the Little Bayou House stands right next to their house and my brother lives in it today.  As a child, I was often allowed to go spend the night with Grandmother and Granddaddy.  For a tyke whose only fulltime friends were older siblings, these visits were a special treat.  Later, I found out that I was literally sent there whenever Mom needed a break.  Having five kids was quite a job and I am sure that I, being the youngest, was quite a handful at times.  Still, I thought it was a reward of some sort to be allowed to stay the night.  Even though their house was about a quarter of a mile from the farmhouse (and then down a wooded lane of about that same distance), I would pack my little bag and walk to their house.  I admit that sometimes it was a bit scary for a preschooler to be alone on that long hike.  Several times, people driving down the road would stop and ask where I was going.  I am sure these were just neighbors being concerned as after I reassured them I was on my way to Grandmother's place, they would pull into the driveway to confirm with Mom.  Neighbors used to watch out for each other. The only other frightening time was when several stray dogs approached.  Thankfully, Granddaddy was in the lane and heard the commotion.  He came to my rescue!

  While on the pier yesterday morning, it was dark enough that all of the lights from across the Bay were casting beautiful streaks on the calm waters.  Those lights jogged a memory loose from the nooks and crannies of the brain.  I started thinking about those pleasant nights spent with grandparents.  My hike to my grandparent's house would begin in midafternoon and I would have supper with them.  Then, I was allowed to stay up and play a game with Grandmother or sit on Granddaddy's lap while he watched the news.  He had a huge rocking chair that seemed to be perfect for two!  Afterward, he would read me a story!  Then, I would climb in the big double bed and try to sleep.  The room seemed huge as this was the only place that I did not share a room with siblings.  To overcome the feeling of "aloneness", I learned to turn toward the big windows that faced the Bay.  Across the water was Keesler Air Force Base.  The lights of the Base were a source of interest to this little girl.  By day, they were the Air Base.  By night, they became a castle.  In my imagination, a fanciful ball was taking place under those lights!  Either Belle, Cinderella or even the Twelve Dancing Princesses were twirling in their loveliest ball gowns just across the Bay.  (My imagination worked really great even back then.)

  Sitting in the stillness of the predawn hours, my brain flitted from one memory of my grandparents to another.  I am glad that I was able to grow up being involved with them.  I learned so many things from how to appreciate a good cup of tea in a fine porcelain cup to using a wood lathe to turn candlesticks.  Sometimes, sitting in the dark by oneself is all it takes to set things right with the world.