Super Tall Ferns!

   I am always pondering what plants I can get for free as free is always good!  Let me wander back into the creek and my whole vision is nothing but how I can use the plants in the yard.  This usually finds me heading back the next day with a shovel and wheelbarrow to dig up anything interesting.  I am a firm believer that you should always leave some healthy plants behind as to not deplete the beauty of that area just to transfer it elsewhere.  This comes from my herbal use and is called wildcrafting.  You never take all.

  Yesterday, I wandered to the creek and found ferns!  Huge ferns!  Almost as tall as me ferns!  So, a bit of research was done today to see if these would do well if transplanted.  The ferns in question are Cinnamon Ferns or Osmunda cinnamomea.  They get their common name because of the cinnamon colored spore bearing fronds.  These ferns have always intrigued me just because they get so huge (up to six feet tall!).  In my study, it became apparent that, like most ferns, Cinnamon Ferns need a lot of water.  Well, that can be arranged!  A large pot set in the Frog Pond would suffice.  As soon as I feel well enough or as soon as Son has a free day, I do think it is time for a Cinnamon Fern to move up the hill a bit.

Fuzzy Brained or Brilliant?

  As I survey my vast (ok, minuscule) domain of the Small Gardens, I seek out the oddities that can bring a moment of distraction to the boredom that is playing out in my brain as I am isolated here.  With limitations on what I can do, how active I can get and where I can roam, I now live in a sort of "Make-Believe World".  Trust me when I say, it is not all fun and games.  This fantasy world is whatever I can dream up about the mundane sights I see over and over again in my realm of the Small Gardens.  As Queen of the Small Gardens, I have that privilege.  I can glorify a pile of sand to become a dune,  a bent weed to become a lofty palm tree or a trickling gutter can be a roaring river.  Whatever I want them to be....

  Speaking of roaring rivers and gutters, before my affliction, I was working on the gravel gutter drain.  I had grand ideas of turning it into a water feature for the gardens,  In fact, that may have led to my undoing.  (I am not sure if my medical experts would agree on that or not but it rambled about in my mind recently.)  Instead of waiting for Son to help me, I created a fountain on the high end of my "creek" by making use of a huge concrete urn.  This thing weighs well over a hundred pounds and, well, I lifted it and positioned it as I saw fit.  I figured "Hey, if I can shovel a huge load of gravel, I should be able to create a fountain!"  I did.  It is awesome!  Speaking of that gravel before I get too far off track, that is where my brain found today's magical pieces!

  Regular old driveway gravel is not what one could call beautiful or even exciting.  It is mundane, to say the least.  It serves a purpose and does a good job.  BUT!  If that gravel happens to have water trickling over it for any length of time, it begins to take on a life of its own.  The grime is washed away and soon vivid colors can be seen.  Wee ridges, cuts and imprints are visible as are tiny fossils.  Each pebble is turned into a variable gemstone of intrigue!  Among the cobwebs in the nooks and crannies of my brain, I vaguely recall Granddad mentioning that many times, the "gemstones of life are often overlooked as simple pebbles."  I know he had a message in there somewhere as he often spoke in parables when trying to teach me as a small child.  Sometimes, those lessons flew past my understanding and went straight to the back of my mind.  Now, as I am older, I can dust off those tidbits and they suddenly seem to be brilliant.  

  So, the Queen of the Small Gardens has now decided that pebbles are gemstones whether in parables or drainage ditches.  With that in mind, I am rich beyond compare.  It is amazing how royalty gives you these insights!  Either that or the brain is still fuzzy.  Probably...

Puddle Pond is Back!

  The hard work is paying off.  I am finally starting to see results from about a week of shoveling gravel, digging holes and running tubing.   I had decided to dig out the gutter drain and turn it into a "fake" creek with a small pool at the end.  Since we live on a hill, getting the water to run into the tiny pond was easy enough but digging the gravel drain to put in a liner was a ton of heavy work.  Old ladies should not be doing heavy work.  I found out this after just the first day!  Every muscle in my body was sore!  Even muscles that I did not know I had were sore!!  The days after that initial go were not too bad.  I guess I became used to hurting and did not feel it as bad. 

  All of this hard work came about because of a sweet friend.  Ann came by with a gift of a garden sign dubbing the place "Ruthie's Refuge".  Well, you cannot have a sign calling something a refuge without it at least being a soothing place to be.  I have long wanted my little "babbling brook" back ever since it stopped flowing several years ago.  The liner went bad in what I called "Puddle Pond" and I had no time nor energy to replace it.  Ann's encouragement kicked me in gear and things are getting accomplished finally.  

  Now, all that is needed is the aesthetic touches that will bring this part of the yard to life.  A bit of lighting, some flowering plants and maybe a pretty bird feeder are next on the list to find their way into the "Refuge".  Then, I can pull up my comfy wicker chair and enjoy being in my own little happy spot.

The World Beneath the Underbrush

  Earlier today, there came an eerily familiar fracas from deep in the creek bed.  It grew in intensity until I had to quit painting, grab the camera and slip unseen through the underbrush.  The cacophony reminded me of a saddening situation a few years back.  I witnessed a large male raccoon literally slaughtering the young of a small female.  It was breeding season but she already had kits. Since the massacre took place high in the top of a dead pine tree, there was nothing I could do to help the sweet little mama.  I watched and cringed as I saw the male pull the tiny babies from the nest, bite them and fling them to the ground.  Little Mama tried valiantly to protect her litter but it was to no avail.  She finally gave up and flung herself from the treetop.  She would rather plunge some sixty feet to the ground than watch her babies be so brutally killed.  This horrifying massacre lingered in my mind for years to come and, today, it surfaced with each scream.

  As I edged my way through the underbrush and down past the palmetto clumps, I was thankful for the cool air.  Hopefully, all cottonmouths had crawled back in their warm spots for the day and I would not tread on any.  The screaming continued for the full ten minutes it took me to reach the spot where I could see what was happening.  Thankfully, it was too early for kits yet but this was equally brutal.  Sweet and gentle love is not a common thing in the critter world.  Four large males were competing over a small female but she was caught in the middle of the brawl.  No matter how she tried, there was no escape.  She was bleeding and screaming as the males battled over her.  Since no kits were involved (yet), I turned to leave.  There was no reason for me to be there and, in fact, it would have been dangerous (and foolish) for me to intervene with nothing but a camera to use as a weapon to protect myself.

  As I clamored up the hillside out of the creek, I was suddenly sidetracked.  Without realizing it when I was racing down, I had plowed through a virtual fairyland of beauty!  Dropping to my knees, I admired the beauty of mosses, ferns and tiny flowers!  The overhead canopy of trees and bamboo had protected the area from the elements and allowed this natural wonderland to flourish!  Oblivious to the melee going on about fifty feet from me, I started photographing the captivating beauty of the forest floor.  Key word here is "started".  After only two photographs, the camera went dead and, in my rush to be a "savior of baby raccoons", I forgot to pick up extra batteries.  Yep, my wonderland would have to wait until I have another opportunity to weasel my way beneath the thickets.  Since it is to be cold tomorrow, it should be a perfect time if the opportunity presents itself.  Then, I SHALL remember to grab a pocketful of extra batteries! 

The "Water Garden"

  Stormy days on the Bayou are some of my favorite times.  There is just something about a good storm that revitalizes the body and mind.  I need that often especially here lately.  With the heavy rains came high winds.  Those winds pushed the tides far up into the yard and pushed it even further back into the Bayou, itself.  Far back in bowels of the Bayou where the creek empties, there is one spot that draws me.  The swamp almost calls to me to visit, occasionally.  On those times, I slip on my leather moccasins and make the hike.  I tred gingerly so as to avoid any cottonmouths or snapping turtles that lurk there.  All of that just to view one certain spot.  Here, the ferns grow to great heights and arrowhead plants flourish alongside of the white spider lilies.  One gets the feeling that this spot is almost magical!  I fully expect to find some will-o'-the-wisps with their tiny, flickering lanterns during one visit.  The place is wonderfully mystical!

  Just a couple of days ago, that urge to check the spider lilies overcame me and I crept deep into the creek to the spot.  Nothing was blooming...no lilies, no wild irises, not even the duck potatoes.  Still I was mesmerized by the sheer beauty of the greenness that surrounded me.  Then, fast forward to today.  During a break in the rains with the winds pounding the Little Bayou House, I headed out the back door.  The swamp called....I answered.  

  The place was completely different.  No, the flowers were not blooming but a tranformation had taken place.  Now, my little wild garden spot had been flooded.  The ferns and lilies were all engulfed with the brackish waters that came flooding southward down the creek from the heavy rains and the salty water being pushed northward by the high tide and harsh winds.  What a difference!  Instead of faeries flitting about trying to entice me further into the swamp, I fully expected to find that cottonmouth underfoot!  Then, the rains started once again and I had to scurry back up the hillside from the creek, through the woods and back to the safety of the Little Bayou House!

Destructive Little Critters!

  Occasionally, a strange beetle or other creepy-crawly critter will catch my eye as I wander around the woods or creek bed. The fallen logs and leaf mulch are a haven for the critters and, if one has a keen eye or is just interested, one of the insects can be spied.  This afternoon, I, once again, escaped the confines of the sick house and made my way down through the mire to the creek.   Tomorrow, torrential rainstorms will pound the area making this particular hike inaccessible.  Most of the area will be flooded making it unsafe to tread there as footing would be unsure.  Once I found a sunny spot beneath the leaf canopy, my search for any critter life began.  Most of the insects are still dormant but telltale signs of their past activities was rampant.

  On a felled pine limb, the bark was crumbly and easily removed.  Slowly peeling back the outer layer, a network of tunnels was revealed.  A good bit of the sealed tunnels was intact.  Sawdust ladened excrement "roofs" laid neatly above each burrow.  This was the work of the woodborer larvae as they chewed their way through the wood.  These larvae can ruin more of the pine wood forests than any other critter.  

  As I sat inspecting the damage done to this one piece of wood, it made me almost thankful that our woods are not heavy with pine trees.  Hurricanes took their toll on the tall trees plus we have recently had a number of lightning strikes on the remaining few.  Perhaps these particular beetles will find little to infest and die out on their own.  Destructive little creatures!

The Watchful Eye

  It was such a gorgeous day here on the Bayou, that I had good intentions of taking the old dog, Mr. PJ, for a nice long hike far back into the woods.  There he could experience a whole new world of sights, sounds and scents.  That was the idea but it did not sit too well with the dog.  He decided about ten minutes was enough hiking and wanted to head back to the house.  He is definitely not a Bayou Dog like Ms. Ez was.  She would have just as soon stayed out in the woods with me forever!  The creek bed was her idea of a fine playground and exploring was right up her alley.  So, I walked back to the Little Bayou House and let PJ have his desired nap.  That did not stop me from enjoying this fine day, however, as I continued on my hike without the dog.

  After I was down near where the creek turns to a bog, I got the eerie notion that I was being watched.  The hair started raising on the nape of my neck causing me to know something was keeping a watchful eye on my progress.  Well, there was only one thing to do.  I plopped down on an old log and watched back.  I knew if I sat there long enough, whatever was watching me would get curious enough to show its face.  Slowly, I scanned the area.  The underbrush made it hard to distinguish what was a stump or a critter.  The recent cold snap led me to believe that I had no worries of a snake nearby so I proceeded to scan upwards.  Sure enough, in a dead Black Gum Tree, a pair of golden eyes stared down at me.  From just about twenty feet up, a lovely osprey watched my every move.  How special!

  While I watched the osprey, a happy thought came over me.  The bird was my protector in the absence of the dog.  Had anything threatening appeared, the osprey would have flushed from its perch.  This would have warned me of any critter's (or human's) presence.  These birds (like most critters of the Bayou) are accustomed to me roaming about the place and have little fear of me but others cause them to take flight.  I felt happy knowing that my bird friend was on duty!  My hike was continued and I felt all was right with the world.

Little Lost Froggy

  Back where the creek spills into the Bayou, critters abound.  This area has not been disturbed by humans other than an occasional hike through the muck during the winter months.  It is quite unthinkable to even attempt pushing your way through the brambles any other time of the year plus the threat of stepping on a cottonmouth usually causes most folks to have second thoughts about venturing here.  This is where the fox, coyotes, deer, rabbits, raccoons, possums, bobcats and a multitude of birds reign.  Their habitat is left untouched other than mountains of debris pushed in by hurricanes.  That debris eventually rots down to create huge mounds alongside of the creek.  It also creates "ponds" or small gullies where water settles and wildlife thrives.  It is in these ponds that are mostly fresh water that frogs gather to mate and lay their eggs.  (Others gather in my little Frog Pond!)  Just about dusk each evening, a frog chorus starts at a tumultuous pace.  It is almost deafening at times.  Even with the windows of the Little Bayou House tightly closed, the songs of thousands of frogs of all types can be heard.  I adore the "Froggy Symphony" as my grandmother used to call it.

  I have come accustomed to hearing and seeing the frogs in the back of the house but was a bit surprised to see one in the marsh near the pier. While frogs, for the most part, live in fresh water, they can tolerate some brackish water.  The ones here seem to have adapted well to the occasional high tide that flushes their ponds with brackish water.  They have not suffered any undue problems and are thriving.  Still, the frog near the Bay confused me.  Why was this bullfrog so adamant about traipsing the thousand or so feet from the pools where the other frogs were?  Did it really think it was going to survive in the salt water?

  The frog's presence (although confusing) could be a testament to the amount of rain that the area has received in the past six months or so.  As this rain falls it rushes down the hillside into the marsh.  Perhaps the waters there are now brackish enough for a different group of wildlife to survive.  Most frogs cannot handle much saltwater as they dehydrate rapidly.  This will cause death in a matter of days.  If their eggs are laid in water that contains too much salt, they will not hatch and if an area that is already filled with tadpoles is flooded with saltwater , they will die.  Only the leopard frog that we have here can survive any length of time near the saltwater.  My bullfrog friend seemed to have lost his way and wandered in where he did not belong.  Hopefully, the frog will have sense enough to head northward towards the creek or Frog Pond.  

The Jewel on the Forest Floor

  A few months back, I was lamenting the fact that I could find no sundew plants down in the creek behind the house.  There were tons of them in my daughter's bog but nary a one in ours.  It saddened me since I truly love these little plants.  Their bejeweled leaves sparkle and shine with each sunbeam.  The "jewels" are droplets of sweet mucilage (think glue here...yep, glue!) and are designed with one thought in mind...attracting bugs.  Once a critter climbs on board to take a sip, they become ensnared in the sticky stuff and WHAM!, they are caught.  The plant has supper.  The critter is absorbed as nutrients by the plant. Sundews can grow in the poorest of soils due to the fact that they "eat" to gain nutrition.  I like them, not only because they are beautiful, but because they do catch bugs.  One thing we have plenty of here on the Bayou, is BUGS!

 Earlier today, I meandered back behind the canebrake, down the hillside to the creek area.  I could not go deep into the creek bed since a storm is brewing and has the tide in the Bay quite high.  This water pushes into the Bayou and eventually into the creek.  Today, the creek was swollen to the point that it was a bit treacherous to enter.  Snakes would be seeking higher ground and might be on my usual path.  While most would be water snakes, there is always the outside chance that a moccasin might be among the ferns.  It was best that I stick to higher ground myself.  I chose one spot where the sun filtered down between the leaves of a poplar tree dappling the ground below.  Making myself comfortable to listen to the rails chattering their conversations between nest sites, I spied a sparkly red object and had to investigate.  A small patch of sundews was shimmering in the sunlight!  I was elated!  The seven small plants were nestled in a patch of peat moss (which was also a pleasant find!).  Since Hurricane Katrina dumped a couple of tons of debris in my creek, we have been hard pressed to find any such plants and, now, I found a fresh start! These were on higher ground than expected but seemed to be doing quite well.  The sundews were thriving on the many insects already creepy-crawling about the place.  Curious fact...our sundews are not nearly as vivid as those in my daughter's bog.  There are at least 194 species of sundews with some looking quite different than others.  Hers are brilliant ruby red while ours have a good bit of green in the leaves.  Seems like a bog garden needs to be in the works during the near future!  There are so many unique plants that not many folks ever get the chance to see.  It would be fun to share the beauty.

Calm, Cool and Collected

  While out and about the hillside, I always take the camera.  You never know what might pop up as a chance to get a great photograph.  Plus, I am still on the search for "hidden" critters to send to my grandlittles. Sometimes, however, those critters refuse to hide.  Recently, a warbler kept trying to perch on my camera.  I had to shoo that one away several times before it got the idea that perhaps I was a bit protective of my gear.  Then, there was today.....

  This afternoon, the sun made it a tad too warm to do much gardening so I headed back to the creek.  Being in a bog is relaxing and far more cool than the sun drenched yard.  I found a spot to rest on a leaning tree as I waited for critters to become accustomed to my presence. Other than an occasional gnat, the area was rather peaceful.  I could watch for visitors to the sun dappled clearing, yet, be comfortable at the same time. The trunk of the tree where I was sitting was only about a foot off the ground so it gave me a good view down under the small brush. As I was sitting there, I heard the slightest of movement to my right. It was more of a slithering than a footstep making me think a large skink had come to say hello.  I turned ever so slightly to find not a skink but a small snake.  

   A tiny, fifteen inch black racer eased its way closer and closer to me.  It must have been curious as to why I had invaded its territory but was not acting like a predator.  About six inches from my leather moccasin, the snake stopped.  It curled up and eyed me cautiously.  After about ten minutes, it seemed to be satisfied that I meant no harm so it relaxed enough for me to gently move the camera in range.  The snake was almost too close to get clear pictures.  It did not even attempt to move even though I had to change the camera lens to get a better shot.  

  The little black racer was such an adorably sweet snake and I felt truly blessed to have gained its trust.  Even when I stood up to head back to the Little Bayou House because of pending darkness, the snake remained.  Only after I took a few steps did it slither back into the leaf mulch to hide for the night.  Tomorrow, I will visit the leaning tree again to see if my new found friend will return.  Oh, the things you find in bogs!  Such happy places!

The Bog Calls to Us

  It was a good day.  Any day outside seems to suit me fine but today was special.  Darling Daughter and I spent the day traipsing about a creek and wooded area.  Down behind their property is a low area that is almost magical.  The trees block out the sky leave you feeling completely secluded from the world.  Once you head down under this canopy, things change.  It is the perfect place to escape reality for a little while.  As she and I slipped quietly down the embankment to where the creek was still overflowing from the recent rains, we both felt a peace around us.  We looked at each other and had the same thought of deja vu.  It was as if we belonged spiritually among the mosses, ferns and critters that inhabit the bog.  Something felt as if it was drawing us deeper and deeper into the depths of the fen.  

  While we were marveling over the intense feeling of belonging, we began discovering life that most overlook.  Our vision adjusted from the bright sunlight of the open field to the dim lit understory of the creek. The mystical, magical place began to open up to us.  We were enthralled.

  Mosses, fungi, lichens, ferns...all could be found among the fallen logs and crawfish mounds. Some, we recognized.  Others were unknown to us.  All were fascinating.  We pushed deeper into the swamp.  The further we went, the more entranced we became.  Then, an idea! Wouldn't it be wonderful to build a tiny house way back in the bog that was only accessible by means of a footpath and a swinging bridge? Just a tiny hut of a place to commune with nature and sort of "nest" while escaping the "real" world.   A place where we could feel at peace.  The bog calls us.  We shall return.

False Indigo

  So far, this has been a weird growing season for many plants around the Bayou.  Perhaps the unduly warm and wet winter (or lack of winter) had something to do with the confusion.  None of the fruit trees have bloomed at the "correct" time and the flowers have just gone amok.  I never know when I will find something crazy going on around the gardens!  Just today, I remarked to Son while he was up repairing the roof that the False Indigo was in full bloom and that it was not the right time.  Being his usual self, he never stopped work but replied "Well, at least it was truthful."  It took me a moment to catch onto his bit of witticism but I guess in a way, he was right.  The bush was living up to its name...maybe?  Normally, this bush blooms anywhere from late February to mid-March.  Not this year! Here it is late April and the thing is gorgeous!

  False Indigo is a neat little shrub that can be found growing wild down in the creeks around here.  Years and years ago, Uncle Alfred (God rest his soul) and I were strolling down near his creek when I spied the pretty bushes blooming.  I asked what it was and he replied with his usual "A Ditch Daisy!"  We had a good laugh and then he told me all about the bush.  He even helped me dig up a few of the smaller saplings to take home.  I now have a lovely bush growing next to the Frog Pond!  The only downside is that as the blooms fade, they shed tiny dots of dried up tubular petals or whatever they are.  The Frog Pond now wears a lovely coating of purple flowers. 

  The actual name of the bush is Amorpha Fruticosa.  To my way of thinking, its moniker of "False Indigo" is a lot easier on the tongue so I will stick with it.  I like the little bush merely because it reminds me of a happy time spent with Uncle Alfred.  Since his place is not longer as it used to be so many years ago, I am sure that I will never have the opportunity to snatch another.  Thankfully, these are easy to root from cuttings!  Now if I can only get my False Indigo to be truthful about its blooming seasons!

My Secret Garden

  Now that I have cut a pathway almost down to the back where the Bayou turns into a creek, I love meandering back there each day.  When cutting, I was careful not to mangle any nests or clear too much in the way of underbrush.  I just wanted a small pathway that would let me observe another small portion of the property.  This time of year, there are any number of dangers lurking in tall grass and scrubby bushes so it was to my best interest to have a walkway.  As soon as the weather dries a bit, I will push a bit further and extend my exploring.  Snakes and ticks are my main concern when traversing in the brush.  

  This afternoon between showers, a hike was in order.  After going the usual route, I headed down to my new pathway.  I was not disappointed as the birds were out as well, which made the walk even more pleasant. Between their singing and the delightfully pungent smell of the woods being wet from the recent shower, I was blissfully unaware of any downside of being on boggy ground.  As I pushed a bit further, a breathtaking scene appeared before me.  Ferns as tall as my shoulder, Wild Blue Irises, Swamp Lilies, Arrowhead Plant and Stoke's Asters made for a beautiful garden.  This totally wild garden could rival any landscaper's attempt.  Come a few months from now, when the plants are in bloom, this will be an incredible sight to behold.  Even now it was thriving.

  Back a few years, the kids and I always loved to hike back in the creek area.  Even though we were taking huge chances of being bitten by a snake, we were oblivious to any danger.  It was as if we had left civilization far behind and found a special place that only existed for us.  I still feel that way.  This is just about as close to paradise as it gets!

The Beauty of a Bog!

  So many folks take things for granted.  "If it is in a store, we will always have it!" is the understanding of a lot of misguided people.  Buy, buy, buy!  Yep, it matters not where the thing originated...just buy!  We have got to have it!  Take, for example, all of those lovely garden helps that we just NEED!  Even things as lowly as peat moss.  Yep, peat moss actually did originate somewhere besides that plastic bag sitting on the shelf in the garden center.  Somewhere, that moss started out in a lovely bog as a living plant.  Once it is in that bag, it has been harvested, killed, sprayed (with who knows what?) and bound into bales.  It sits there waiting for someone to snatch it up and use as a wonder nutrient for their gardens.  I know.  I use it, too.  It is good stuff.  But...

  If you have ever had the inclination to take a hike back in some wooded area where there is a creek or even a boggy area, you might see the loveliness of peat moss before it is peat moss.  Sphagnum moss is a most interesting plant if you do not mind getting your spiffy shoes a bit muddy.  It is different than other mosses as it has branch clusters that sit up like leaves.  Sometimes the mounds look a lot like a soft, mushy pillow! (At least to me!  Not that I recommend taking a snooze in a peat bog but the stuff is rather soft and cushiony.  A bog might also be home to a few snakes and a bunch of bugs that might make your nap a bit uncomfortable!)

  Elizabeth and I were tromping through the woods the other day when we came to a creek bed.  As with any place that was relatively untouched, branches and logs crisscrossed the creek like a network of little bridges.  Under those "bridges" was an acre or so of the prettiest sphagnum moss.  The sun filtered through the canopy above dappling the moss with its rays.  I was down on my knees photographing the green layer.  When she queried my actions, I excitedly told her that it was sphagnum!  Peat Moss!  Her eyes lit up as well.  She is just about as bad as her mom when it comes to finds like this.  We decided right then and there that this peat bog should be protected.  No, bulldozers or tractors will ever plow through our bog if we can help it!  Why can't others see how important it is to leave some places just to Mother Nature?

The Botanical Wonderland otherwise known as The Creek

  Down behind the house where the Bayou turns into a creek, I find more amazing botanical specimens.  These are just growing wild between the roots of oaks, pines, tulip poplars and maples.  Spider lilies, rain lilies and irises abound! Mosses, palms and ferns are in huge mounds but these are not what caught my interest today.  Today's magical find was the Stoke's Aster!  This beautiful bluish purple flower never ceases to impress me.  The color, the fringed petals and the sheer number and size of blooms is breathtaking! The creek is filled with the plant and this is the month of their showy blooms.  Ahhh, perfection!

  Mark and I were out on a late afternoon hike about the hillside when he pointed out the gorgeous flower.  The bright purple stood out against the soft greens of the wood ferns making this quite the showpiece.  I had to stop and photograph the stunning view.  Further down in the creek than we dared to go, I knew that the whole area would be filled with the blooms.  With the sun setting in the west and the creek swollen from recent rains, not only would there be masses of these flowers but there would be hundreds of cottonmouth moccasins lounging on the moss-covered roots.  These are not critters that I wish to cross!  One misstep is all it would take for one of us to be severely injured.   I would have to be happy with the few plants that were near the clearing. 

  Stoke's Aster is a lovely medium sized plant with ruffled leaves and tall, stocky stems.  Numerous four-inch blooms fill the tops of the stalks and wave happily in the breeze.  The multi-petaled blooms range in color from deep blue to cornflower blue, white and lots of different shades of purple.  The plant was named after Jonathan Stokes (1755-1831) a botanist and physician.

Creek Bed Wonderland

Michael and I have been scrounging around for dead logs to cut for firewood.  We have been tugging and pulling logs from the underbrush and tangled grapevines.  This area has not been cleared since Hurricane Katrina whipped through the Bayou eight years ago. Hence, we are literally fighting our way to the downed logs.  Our weapons of choice are pruning saws, snips and axes.  It is a bit of work but well worth the effort when you consider how many good trees would be destroyed if we used tractors and power tools.  Plus, all of this strenuous exercise is good for our health.

I always try to remember my camera while on these excursions since you never know just what you might find.  It is like an entirely different world down under the canopy of treetops.  With the creek bed being nigh on dry with the onset of winter, we are able to explore a bit further than we normally do.  The threat of Cottonmouth Moccasins makes one a bit leery about sludging through the overgrowth during warmer weather.  Down deep where the Bayou meets the creek, it is almost a fantasy world..a place where one can almost imagine faeries, gnomes and other magical beings live.  Thick green mosses mat most of the logs and ferns drape gracefully over the bed of pine needles.  Mushrooms of every sort grow freely on the mulched ground while the palmettos fronds appear to be thatched roofs of some small home.  These and the occasional bright red of a tiny Maple or Sycamore sapling all are picture-worthy creations.  I have a tendency of neglecting my wood gathering duties while I examine each and every interesting bit of flora or fauna that we discover.

Michael has shown tremendous patience with me as I refuse to let him cut a log just to protect some moss or mushroom.  My demands that he avoid pulling a vine that holds a grey squirrel's nest or chopping a hollow tree that houses flying squirrels are met with a shrug of the shoulders and a muttered "Sure".  He loves the wildlife as much as I do and readily agrees that we need to avoid disturbing them as much as possible.  This little wonderland known as the creek bed will remain intact as long as we have anything to do with it!

Lichen it or not.....

Lichens..those weird things that grow on trees, downed limbs, rocks and anything that sits still long enough for them to catch hold. I find these things rather interesting in so many ways. Lichens are perhaps one of the most bizarre forms of life on this planet as they are actually made up of several different species of organisms. In one lichen, there can be fungus, algae and even a third thing called a cyanobacterium. I understand and sort of know what the algae is and the fungus..well..yeah..got a good idea about that one, too. But that other one..the cyanobacterium..hmm.. don't have a clue! Think about the lichen for a minute..this is one strange little plant (?)..animal (?)..entity(!)..(yeah! That is what it should be called! An entity!) The fungus and algae obviously get along quite well and have become dependent on each other to live. The algae part makes the food and the fungus part provides the structure part that holds it all together!

This picture of a lichen was taken on one of my walks into the creek area. There are entire trees that are covered with different lichens but this twig was actually close enough for me to get a clear picture. Although the lichens can be found growing on live and dead trees, the assumption that they harm the living tree is just that..an assumption. They do not harm the tree but merely live with it. I hear of people ridding their places of lichens..not me..I like them! Actually the lichens are a good indicator of the air quality in the area. They will not thrive in polluted places so if you find masses of lichens in your yard..rejoice! I am happy to report that I have a ton of lichens in the creek area and in the yard!

The walk in the creek that day, has renewed an interest in the lichens! I plan on making several more hikes just to photograph any I find. It will be fun to identify them and make new discoveries about them! There are so many uses for lichens..things like medicines, perfumes, food, and fabric dyes! Wow! Another lifeform that goes unnoticed except maybe by those who wish to eradicate it from their proximity. If they only knew!

Crazy as a Loon!

Last night I heard the eeriest sounds imaginable! If I had not known better, I would have assumed that there were banshees on the roam in the Bayou! Banshees! The mournful wail that resounded in the Bayou for the better part of an hour just after dark was being answered from the nearby creek. No, I am not crazy! Maybe a bit loon-ey but not crazy! The wails were the calls of the Common Loon that I had photographed just a few hours earlier on the Bay. These haunting wails are more prevalent at night and are not "alarm" calls but are more a way of the loons to keep track of other Loons in the area. The Common Loon alarm call sounds much more like insane laughter that the mournful wail that I heard. My birds must have felt safe through the night although their wail could be heard for miles around echoing through the marshes.

It took me a while to recognize the birds as Common Loons since this pair was dressed in their winter plumage of browns and did not have the black and white patterned back. Still, Common Loons they were and I was thrilled to have them as winter visitors to the Bayou! Loons cannot take off in flight from the water like some of the other water fowl. They have to have a long "runway" and a tad of wind to airlift them! They are just too heavy without the extra boost. It is quite comical to watch them "run" on the water to gain speed..flapping their wings the whole way!

The loons I photographed had just flown in and I imagine are only here as a stopover on some migration journey as I never see too many during the summer. In a way, I wish they would stay..I do enjoy the haunting sounds of banshees in my Bayou!

Speaking of the Bayou, I trekked to where it joins the creek on the North side of the property! I have not journeyed too far into this area since the year after Hurricane Katrina. There was just too much debris to feel safe in climbing around in there at that time. Now, I was sort of taken aback at just how much lumber still remained in the creekbed. It is totally blocking off the flow of water and causing it to flood the area, making it one big, mucky mess. My son and I have decided that now is the time to start making our way down to the main creek and give it a major overhaul. I am not sure how in the world we will ever get some of the beams from the creek but we shall try. It is not going to be an easy task, but at least now we do not have to deal with all of the smaller trash that floated in with the tidal surge. This has all decomposed and has left mainly clear

lumber. The threat of snakes will increase tremendously in the next few months as they come out of hibernation so now is the time to tackle the job. I did come across one humongous snake skin shed as we were trying to pull some of the smaller limbs out of the water. I have a feeling that this monumental undertaking is going to take years!

Total Confusion!

In yesterday's post, I mentioned the Mexican Petunia. This petunia is not what we grew up with as a "Petunia"..this is an entirely different plant. The Mexican Petunia is a much sturdier plant with almost woody stems. Its leaves are more elongated and are about eight inches in length. The plant stands erect making it perfect for a backdrop plant. The Petunia that was found in nearly every garden "back in the day" has now been labelled as the "Old Fashioned Climbing Petunia" by most seed houses that sell "antique" seeds. (~Another potentially misunderstood term.."antique" seed..an antique seed is not a seed that is old..hence antique..it is the seed from a plant that has been open-pollinated for over fifty years. In other words, this plant's grandparents were in gardens long ago. Open pollinated plants are those that are pollinated by birds, bees and the wind not in some closed greenhouse by human hands. This pollination method assures that the seeds will produce new plants that are very similar to the parent plant. Antique seeds are not hybrids and can be saved from year to year.~) Getting back to Petunias..the Old Fashioned Climbing Petunia is also a lovely little bloom. Ranging from pinks to purples with a nice helping of white thrown in for good measure, these blossoms are wonderfully aromatic especially in the late evening hours. They actually do not "climb" in the sense of a clinging vine but are just rather leggy plants that will grow up to three feet in length and then sort of droop over anything that is handy. They can be kept short and bushy by deadheading but then you lose a lot of the charm of this plant. One wonderful habit of this plant is that it reseeds itself once you get them started in your garden. The tiny seeds are scattered about and will pop up in the most pleasing places. I usually just let them grow wherever they decide is the proper place and they do well. I have them in the pea rows, in the herb garden and in flower pots that are planted with other flowers. They planted themselves and I just let them be! Hopefully, this will clear up any confusion involving these two flowering plants..no..a Petunia is not always a Petunia!

While I am talking of flowering plants, I will introduce you to another of my favorites. This is a lovely creek-dweller that was transplanted into the yard gardens several years ago. I fell in love with this Aster when I first saw it growing in masses alongside the creek banks and just had to bring some home. This is one of those situations where I grabbed the shovel, a bucket and a son..tromped through the muck and mire to have him dig the lovely! My oldest son was the lucky fellow that had this honor! He and his beautiful wife slogged around in the bog for several hours digging Asters, Irises, Ferns and Spider Lilies. I was almost in Heaven! (Although I am not sure that is exactly what they were thinking!) I love the creek area..it is almost a fantasy land of plants! This particular Aster is a Stoke's Aster and it resembles a Cornflower. A very prolific bloomer, it will flower intermittently throughout the summer until frost. They do seed a good bit but I have never had a problem containing it. As an added note..this plant does like a lot of water during the summer months but likes to be rather dry through the winter.

Wildflowers or Weeds?

I love to wander in the woods near where the Bayou turns into a creek just to look at plants. There is an amazing variety of plants that grow in this bog. It is quite difficult to get into this area and in summer there is always the chance that you might encounter a snake or two, but to me, it is well worth the effort. Each month there is a different show of color hiding beneath the canopy of trees just beckoning me. More than once, I have wandered in with a shovel and bucket to dig a few specimens to be transplanted in the gardens at the house. I am always careful to leave ample plants as to not deplete my wonderland.

Veronia is one plant that I moved to the garden. It is a tall plant that blooms profusely but also makes thousands of seeds. This in itself can be a problem in the garden but since I deadhead as soon as the blooms fade, I should be able to contain it. I love the deep rich purple of the blooms of this tall (mine is about five feet tall) plant.

Another transplanted beauty is the Marsh Mallow. (Not to be confused with marshmallows from S'mores fame!) The Marsh Mallow is a member of the Hibiscus family and is usually pink or white with yellow centers. They get about three feet tall and seem to be impossible to kill..my type of plant!

Blue Flags or Wild Irises are also abundant in the creek bottom. These, although I have dug them and moved them to the gardens, are reported to be highly toxic to both humans and livestock. I decided that I was safe having them in the garden since I knew about this and the only "livestock" around are the dog, Ezzy and the cat, Ms Put. Ms Put would be smart enough not to eat a poisonous plant and Ezzy, well..let's just say I have to watch her. She will chew anything!

A very fragrant plant, the Swamp Lily, also called Seven Sisters Lily, String Lily and sometimes Spider Lily, is to be my next acquisition. The back part of the Bayou is a solid mass of these lilies with bulbs some four inches in diameter. They remind my of a night-blooming lily that was outside of the bedroom that my sister and I shared as children. We would push our beds next to the windows during the summer (no air conditioning in those days) and would always love it when those lilies bloomed!