Just A Cousin

    Sometimes, extended family can be the closest friends you can have...sometimes.  Sometimes, those same family members can be the very ones that will throw you under the bus if ever a chance occurs.  It all boils down to that old adage of "It is better to have an honest enemy than a fake family."  When things come to light, there oftentimes comes a need to purge...family or not. Seriously, though, family is (in most cases) exactly what is needed to make life livable.  The closeness, the love, the laughter...that...THAT is pure bliss.

  This morning, I found a cousin...not of mine but a cousin to another critter.  Most folks are keenly aware of the adorable seahorses that are found the warmer waters of the world. These fine fish are found near coral reefs and in seagrass beds where they have protection from larger predators.  (Yes, they are fish.)  Here, we have an abundance of pipefish.  Pipefish are the sweet cousins of the seahorses!  Like their cousins they tend to hide among the underwater plants as they go about eating tiny plankton.  I occasionally catch one when I am throwing the net for mullet or bait fish.  I marvel at the beauty and then carefully release the tiny critters.

  It is easy to see the "family resemblance" if you ever take the time to really observe the pipefish.  Their heads and "snouts" are so much like that of the seahorses.  These snouts are specialized to capture small prey that other fish overlook.  Also, like their cousins, pipefish are extremely camouflaged and can go unseen in a bed of seagrass.  This helps them avoid being eaten and also helps them to capture food.  Another way they are like their cousins, is the male pipefish gives birth not the female.  He has a specialized brood pouch which can hold up to dozens of eggs or tiny pipefish!  

  So...there you have it!  Cousins...seahorses and pipefish!  Oh...let us not forget their other cousins...the sea dragons but they are way over in Australia not around my Bayou!

It Is That Thick

  The other day, a cousin from out of state made the remark to me that I had to be exaggerating about the fog.  "It cannot be that thick." he stated with quite an air of insistence.  "Fog lifts before midday." again with a little bit more emphasis that he knew what he was saying.   Well, folks, if you have not lived on a bayou in the Deep South, do not go telling us about winter fog.  It is a real thing and we deal with it...sometimes all day...sometimes for days on end.  Fog!  Thick pea soup fog that shrouds everything and lays a dampness to every nook and cranny of even the tightest of houses.  The wood floors in the Little Bayou House stay sticky and dust clings with more of a vengeance to the damp furniture.  It makes you just want to stay inside where at least you remain somewhat drier than if you went traipsing around the hillside.  Mr. PJ and Ms. Nycto (the dog and cat of the place) have decided that the best way to endure the weather is to nap continuously.  

  Yesterday morning had particularly dense fog.  The sun did not poke its face out until well in the afternoon.  The whole Bayou seemed to be cloaked from the outside world.  Not being able to see what lay beyond the marsh, I felt a bit isolated.  The old dog hung a bit closer when we headed back behind the cane to gather firewood.  Instead of his usual romping and exploring, I think he felt the need to protect me from unseen foes.  

  The fog did make for some interesting photographs.  When nothing else can come into focus, those figures nearest stand out strangely beautiful.  Mundane things such as the tangled smilax vines dangling from a bay tree became the perfect frame for the fog-masked sun.  To me, this is intriguing.  To others...it is probably rather boring.  Still, it does show the density of the fog as this photo was taken about 10 am.  So, Dear Cousin, it really is that thick.

Four Colly Birds! Or Maybe Just One..

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

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

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

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

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

The Tiny Angel

  The old idiom of "Great things come in small packages" was never so powerful to me as a recent act of kindness.  One tiny gift projected an extreme amount of love that left me almost speechless.  It brought a tear to the eye and a heart that was overwhelmingly full. One act..one wee gift had a profound effect.

  Cousins..masses of cousins..recently descended upon the Bayou. Some were "old" friends while others were just met.  Cousins, children of cousins and grandchildren of cousins all made themselves at home in the Little Bayou House.  It was literally filled to the brim with folks.  The laughter, chatter and hugs were shared and promises of more meetings were made.  It was fun. The day was long but enjoyable.  The tiny gift came at the close of the day.  One cousin who has always been so dear to my heart, slipped a card into my hand.  Helen quietly whispered, "This is for you.  You have been such a dear to open up your home to all of us.  I love you."  I wanted the hubbub to stop right there so I could sit and spend the rest of the time with just her.  We needed the time to just "catch up" with each other's lives and feelings.  She and the other cousins were on the Coast to lay their father to rest. Uncle Alfred had passed away in July just two days short of his 100th birthday.  Now the whole family was here to celebrate his life.  I needed to sit with Helen and tell her what an important part of my life she is.  I needed to be able to tell my all my other cousins that the connection with them will always be special and lasting.  I needed to stop the commotion spinning around us and say "I love you."  Not that we do not tell each other this often but I needed to have time...calm, quiet time to let it all sink in to my brain!

  Inside the card was a tiny angel pendant. When I opened the card, the angel dangled loosely as if she was flying.  It made me smile as I thought of how the love of cousins was much like that tiny flying angel.  We do not have to be next door neighbors to know that the bond will always continue.  We can be as far as angels fly and still be connected at the heart.  Our love will travel the distance to keep us connected.  We do not have to constantly be reminded nor constantly be in contact...it just happens.  Cousins are usually the first friends we have and the ones that stick with us through a lifetime.  They are the ones that will stand behind us, take the step before us, pick us up when we fall or give us that kick in the pants when we need it to keep us all headed down the right path. Cousins are the ones who step in when brothers and sisters cannot be there.  The ties that bind you together are unbreakable and the loyalty is fierce.  The tiny angel was the embodiment of all that.  Love, Loyalty, Patience and Faith were all riding on the wings of one tiny angel and that angel carried it well.  

 Thank you, Helen.  YOU are an angel and are so very, very dear to me as are all my cousins!

He caught it!

  With cousins all gathered together here on the Coast, there has been no end to the gatherings.  We eat together, play together and most importantly fish together.  It has been fun, exhausting but fun.  Those of us who are local have been hosting the others for lunches and dinners which goes back to that "Southern Thing".  We feed people! It matters not how many gather together, we feed them!  

  My sister decided to throw the good ole fish fry/gumbo feast.  Sounded great to me!  She and her husband do not live near the Bayou but still do a good bit of fishing not far from the pier.  Last night she was nigh in a panic!  The fish they had caught earlier and tossed in the freezer seemed ruined.  Each bag was freezer burned making the fish unusable.  "Do you have fish...any kind of fish in the freezer that I can use?" she asked me.  I was sad to tell her that we had just given away all fish to make room for shrimp BUT Mark was going fishing in the morning and if he caught a good number, she could have them.  That sounded like a plan!  

  I informed Mark of the deal and away he went in his boat and away I went to the kitchen to start cooking for a huge crowd that was to make a day of being on the Bayou.  About three hours later, I heard Ms. Ez barking as she was trying to tell me that someone was at the door.  Ahh, yes!  Mark was home!  Now to see that bucket crammed full of mullet!  I opened the door to see nothing in the bucket at all!  "What did you catch?" I asked.  "Only one." he replied.  Hmmm,...well, at least one was a start but what were we going to feed twenty-five or thirty hungry cousins?  

   It was then that he held up the huge redfish!  Yep, he had "one" alright but that one was large enough to feed an army!  It was a monster of a fish!  The fish was thirty-six inches long and weighed in at nineteen pounds!  Yep, I think we just found the fish for the fish fry!  Mark saved the day merely by doing something he loved!  I must say that later in the evening, everyone enjoyed a delightful meal of fried fish and my sister's gumbo!  Wow!  It just does not get any better!

Its a good thing she's my cousin!

  I have company (well, family) coming to stay at the Little Bayou House this coming weekend.  My cousin, her husband and their adult son will stay three nights with us which makes me happy as this cousin and I are more like sisters than anything else.  She and I grew up together with only a couple of months apart in our ages.  When we get together, it is like things have never changed.  Still, I have to wonder just what folks think when they walk into the house and get a glimpse of my "decorating skills"!  Especially during this time of year, the house is quite....ummmm....different. It is Halloween! AND time for the second annual Clue Hunt on the Bayou!


  Since I have some heavy duty planning to do to get this clue hunt to be a success, things are plopped just about everywhere.  I have skeletons on the bed in one guest bedroom.  I have "ghost" portraits in the other guest bedroom.  One dining table is set for "high tea" while the other has typical Halloween stuff.  (Yes, I do have two dining sets at least for the time being as one is being stored for my daughter.)  The gaudiest black satin valances adorn the windows!  (Black satin with tassels to boot and none of that fits with the Bayou but Halloween brings out the best in me!  You can't get much better than that!)   Plus, I have acquired any number of broken clocks and have decided those should be displayed, too! And that, my friends, just shows how close my cousin and I are!  She went out of her way to find some more unique clocks to add to my collection!   Anyway, with everything stashed about in weird places, I am sure it should be an interesting visit for my guests.  

  The good thing is that, like I said earlier, my cousin and I pick up right where we left off with the last visit.  She has volunteered not only her help but that of her husband and son! My daunting job of cluttering...errr..decorating the house for the hunt will be a lot easier with many hands at work.  Hopefully, they will not get the heebie-jeebies over sleeping with skeletons!

With a little help from my friends!

  While Ms. Ez, the dog, went down for her morning visit to the Bayou edge, I meandered about the garden.  Ever since I was a wee tot, this has been a daily ritual for me.  Pop started it all when he would take me to the fields so Mom could get her chores done.  In the fields, I could play to my heart's content while Pop hoed the veggies.  Now even though my gardens are on a much smaller scale, I still find it fascinating to eye the plants with the morning dew still clinging to them.  It makes me happy.  A find this morning also made me happy.  The Spiderwort was in full bloom! The bright bluish-purple, three-petaled flowers fade with the heat of the day so my morning walk caught them in their glory.  I smiled as I thought of Granddad's name for the plant..."Meet me at the Gates".  This was because of their habit of multiplying so greatly.  It was after I headed back inside that a strange coincident occurred.

  My cousin-in-law, Fred, has a fantastic blog about the area in which he and my cousin, Ann, live.  (If you would like to stop by and have an interesting read, visit http://www.fragmentsfromfloyd.com .  I guarantee you will enjoy each post!  His photography is out of this world!  Anyway, as I do every morning, I read his current post.  Aha!  It was about the very plant that I was just admiring!  Spiderwort!  Now, I would go on about the beauty of what is usually called a weed and perhaps even tell you some interesting fact of a home remedy using the plant but Fred can always be depended upon to give pertinent information!  In his writings this morning, he recalled how he had written years before of a discovery about the plant.  It seems that the stamen hairs are pretty good indicators of pollution!  According to Fred, the plant is sensitive to radiation and chemical pollutants and the stamen hairs will turn pink if exposed to either!  This is good to know!  Hmmm...I headed back outside to check my Spiderwort blooms.

  It is great to say that all is well here on the Bayou.  My Spiderworts' stamens are all blue!  Not one pink hair among the lot!  Thank you, Fred, for teaching us these great tips!  Now, Folks, drop on by his blog, http://www.fragmentsfromfloyd.com and while you are about it, go visit his Etsy shop,  https://www.etsy.com/shop/GooseCreekGoods  He has some incredible cards to show you!

Cherries, Chopsticks and Cousins...

I wonder if it was mere coincidence or perhaps one of those things that was just meant to happen.  Mark came home with four large bags of cherries the other day.  He knows that I love fruit of any sort but cherries rate right up there as one of my favorites.  The first bag was washed and eaten fresh but that still left three bags.  I needed to do something with the fruit but what? That is a lot of cherries to pit!  I pondered the fact.  Then I read where my cousin, Helen, had just picked some cherries and was making a wonderful pie!  Yum!  That sounded incredible!  Cherry pie! She had written that she pitted her cherries with a chopstick!  I had never heard of doing this!  I learn a lot from my cousins!

Two pounds of cherries that needed pitting.

Michael and I had to bring Ms. Put, the cat, in for her yearly visit to her veterinarian but afterward, I intended to make a pie or two!  While we were battling the cat (trying to crate her), a severe thunderstorm worked itself into a frenzy. The booming and banging did not make the crate thing much easier but finally we succeeded and off we went. (I have to admit that the sounds effects were most perfect for the ordeal in getting a windmill of cat claws inside a crate that seemingly shrinks to the size of a match box when in use!)  The rough weather brought back a flood (hehe) of memories!  I started beleaguering Michael with tales of thunderstorms during my childhood.  I always loved rainy, blustery days while at school.  Not so much at school but on the way home.  We rode the school bus and  it would pass Pop's fields before coming to a halt in front of the house.  From the open fields, we could see the house and if I saw the kitchen light on, I knew that something good was being baked!  Occasionally, Pop would be in the kitchen baking turnovers!  Aha!  Thunderstorms and Turnovers!  The idea hit me..I would make Cherry Turnovers!

Since we had no chopsticks, we used a wooden skewer.  Remove the stem and insert the stick.

Firmly push against the pit until it plops out the other side! Cherry is pitted!

Once we were home, Michael and I searched for chopsticks.  Hmmm..the Little Bayou House seemed devoid of any such devices!  Well now, where there is a will, there is a way!  Skewers! I had a multitude of those little rascals!  Using the back or larger end of the skewer, we poked the pit right out of the cherry!  This was rather easy!  Pull out the stem, insert the chopstick (skewer in our case), and push!  The seed shoves right out the other end of the cherry leaving a nice, clean hole but the cherry intact!  Easy-peasy!  It took Michael right at twenty five minutes to do two pounds of cherries.  While he did that, I made the dough.  After a bit, the house smelled divine with nine large turnovers baking in the oven!!!  Three of these will be given to my brother.  It is always better to share baked goods!

Three of the nine Cherry Turnovers that were baked today.

Now you tell me..coincidence?  I had cherries..Helen picked cherries.  I had no idea how to pit cherries..Helen told me!  Terrific thunderstorm hits..jogs memory of past storms and baking. I was to make a pie..Pop used to make Turnovers.  Hehe...So, I was taught to pit cherries with a chopstick so I could make Cherry Turnovers during a thunderstorm!  Personally, I think it was just meant to happen! Thank you, Helen!  I would have never thought of pitting cherries like this!