There is a painting in that sunrise!

   That time just before the sun shows its face above the pines on the opposite side of the Bayou is my favorite time of day.  Usually by then, I have been up for a while and have most of my indoor chores completed.  I can head to the pier to collect the thoughts before starting in on the garden.  Between the pier and garden, I am not sure which would be called my "favorite place" but that pier sure has a strong hold. I go to watch the sunrise and see Mark off as he heads fishing.  He and I fully agree that "There is nothing like fresh fish for lunch."

  Sometimes, that sunrise can stir the brain a bit and cause the imagination to set in motion.  This probably comes from time spent with my grandparents as they both encouraged my creative endeavors even at a young age.  Granddad, especially, would push me with "Can you see a painting in that sunrise?"  I could and I would try.  My painting abilities never reached the quality that I wished but it matters not.  I still "see" that painting.  

  A couple of days ago, Mark and I were remarking about how the fog had settled in on the marsh just enough to make the sun stay dark until it was well over the tops of the pines.  I took photograph after photograph of this mysterious beauty, all the while, hearing Granddad's voice reminding me to look for the painting.  I can see it.  I wish I could paint it.  Perhaps, Darling Daughter will fulfill that wish for me. Granddad is the inspiration, I will provide the photograph and she can work her magic on the canvas!  

Darkness

   "Progress" is beginning to wear thin on my nerves.  Things are a little better today since we had a wee bit of rain overnight but for the past two months, I was constantly on edge.  My nerves were being tested at each turnaround.  A severe drought left our area literally crispy.  Leaves prematurely fell from the trees and became a thick, crackly carpet throughout the woods.  This was just waiting for someone to take a notion of starting a fire whether by ill intention, a tossed out cigarette, fireworks or campfire.  The city took the wise step of issuing a burn ban but, obviously, that does not apply to everyone.  This all goes back to the progress thing.  Clearcutting property has reached a frenzied stage as building new houses is all the rage.  Fine.  Fine and dandy.  BUT...you should follow the rules.  As the people clear the properties all around us, the trees are simply shoved in huge piles and lit afire.  Yep, lit afire while we are under a burn ban due to drought.  It is nerve racking to smell smoke knowing that any spark could set up a wildfire with the brisk north winds.  Progress!  Oh, how I would love to go back to being in solitude around here.

  As I sat on the pier yesterday morning, I had a brief moment where I felt that solitude.  The skies were eerily bright even though the sun had not even risen above the pines but the woods were pitch black.  I say woods...there are dozens of homes just beyond those trees.  For some odd reason, nary a light could be seen (power outage, maybe?).  No streetlights, no house lights...nothing.  As I sat there pondering the darkness, it occurred to me that maybe we are not meant to see everything.  Perhaps, we are better off being in our own little worlds.  I know I am.  Too bad, it appears that my little world is soon to be a thing of the past.

Ominous Feeling

    Rising before dawn usually gives me the opportunity to view the sunrise in all of its glorious colors.  This is a great reason to roll out of bed at such an hour.  That and Bat (the cat) decides that 4am is the perfect time for breakfast.  It seems as if it is the perfect time for that first mug of coffee, too.  He and I share a few peaceful moments on the pier before we go our separate ways for the day.  I head to the gardens and he starts his rounds to make sure our property did not disappear overnight.

  This morning, however, we were not greeted with that array of color.  Grey...simply grey dominated the sky.  A slight mist was on the air and silence prevailed over the Bayou...a thick, heavy silence.  It almost felt as if there was an ominous shroud being laid around us.  Usually, I get this feeling before a hurricane bears down upon us but (thankfully) there are none in the Gulf.  Still, there was that feeling...a feeling that I did not shake all day.  Grey...ominous...almost disquieting. 

The Way It is

  Being isolated down here on the Bayou has gone beyond just a safeguard measure.  What started two and a half years ago with the onset of COVID has now become a way of life, so it seems.  You hear a lot about the "new normal" and I guess this is it for me.  I am to be isolated for the long haul.  If nothing else, it has made it quite clear of what is and who are needed in life.  Come to find out, life goes on with very little of either.  It just takes a bit of adjustment.  You quickly find that your happiness does not depend on others or on things. 

  Early this morning, I took my mug of coffee to the pier as I have for so many years.  As I sat watching the beauty of the breaking dawn unfold before me, thoughts whirled around in the head.  This life suits me.  I am just an old soul that is drawn to swamps, bayous and mires.  My peace is found there.  While loneliness can be destructive, solitude is refreshing.  Let me just stay right here on my mystical, magical Bayou and all will be fine.  Solitude...isolation...inner peace...all just a perspective.

The Pretty Image

   Here lately, I cannot sleep past 4am.  Most of the time, it is more like 3am but occasionally that extra hour slips in and feels grand.  Not being one that likes to lie in bed if I am awake, I rise, make coffee and wander the Small Gardens by whatever light there is.  Often, this light is nothing more than that provided by buildings across the way.  At least now that it is cooler, I have little worry of stepping on a moccasin.  Still, other critters are out and about at the same time so I have to be wary.  The positive side of rising so early is I have the opportunity to witness lovely sunrises.

  Although I am not a fan of the encroaching buildings of the city, the skyline is amazingly beautiful before dawn. The buildings add just enough interest between the trees to break the monotony.  Sadly, sometimes those buildings across the way seem far too near and I begin to feel trapped.  Trapped in a pretty image but trapped nonetheless.  

Splat! Attack of the Frog!

   It is a rare thing when any of the critters of the Bayou startle me.  I am far more afraid of people of this old world than any critter.  In fact, it is not unheard of for me to claim that I like critters far more than I do people.  They are just better friends.  I do not fear the critters.  I admit to standing in awe of them but it is definitely not a fear...of any of them.  This morning, however, one of the most unlikely critters actually startled me.  Afterward, I felt highly amused.

  As usual, my morning trek to the pier was before daylight.  As I softly padded to the pier in my leather moccasins, I pondered what the sights may be on this day.  Would the alligators be out and about?  Would I find a cottonmouth slithering back undercover after a night of hunting?  Would the otters be playing along the shoreline?  There is a never-ending show occurring around the marshes.  This morning, all was quiet.  In fact, it was so still that I became fully engrossed in the dark clouds passing above the opposite shoreline.  This vision was so lovely that I decided to photograph it even though darkness still shrouded much of the area.  Just as I was about the click the camera, SPLAT!  Something cold, wet and slimy plastered itself against my face!  My hand jerked up and the camera recorded a bunch of squiggly lines.  Those were supposed to be lights on the shore not some weird alien message.

  Reaching up to my face, my hand clutched around a nice, plump frog.  Obviously, the critter had been on the light pole and decided to change places.  My face was a likely spot to land!  "Nope, Froggy!  Not this time."  Carefully, the wriggling critter was let loose on a nearby post.  "You sit there and behave!"  Ugh!  Frog slime on my face!  As a kid, I was always told not to wipe my face on my shirt but I do believe this instance allowed for it!  It is surprising how cold a frog is at 5am!  Froggy and I parted as friends, I got a few good shots of the skyline and all was well.  

Time To Watch The Centipedes

   It is my habit to get up before dawn merely to have some "me time".  When the kids were still here, my whole time was spent doing for them.  That "me time" was nonexistent if I went by the standard idea of sleeping late.  So, the habit stuck and here I am in my old age still rising at 4am.  Old habits die hard.  But, the time spent by myself is always some of the most interesting and satisfying of the day.  It is then that I can ponder things uninterrupted.  It is also then that I can visit my critter friends without receiving looks of disdain.

  It was one of those "friends" that made me pause for a good ten minutes or so at the crack of dawn.  My wanderings had taken me around back of the house.  That path falls close to the old chimney at one point.  The bricks of the chimney, itself, are rather neat as they are now covered with soft, green mosses.  It is not good for the bricks but it sure is mighty pretty.  Seeing the moss is always a cause for pause to study the designs woven in the crevices.  That is where I found my "friend".  A tiny centipede was so busy hunting its breakfast among the moss mounds that it was oblivious to my presence.  I was able to photograph the critter at my leisure as it stayed on the mosses for quite some time.  In and out!  In and out!  The tiny centipede poked its face in every nook and cranny.  Occasionally, it would find an ant.  It would only stop long enough to devour the insect before restarting its search.

  It is times like that moment that I cherish.  Had anyone been with me as I traipsed the hillside, I am sure my centipede visit would not have been so lingering.  Not many folks tend to take an interest in such oddities.  I do.  I revel in each find and want to soak it all in before I am not able to do this any more.  Time is short, my friends.  Enjoy it while you can.  Take the time to smell those roses or watch the centipedes.  Take the time for you.

The Name Is Pretty Accurate

   Gloriosa Lilies are something that Pop planted and tended with much care.  He loved the way the plants, although lilies, grew like vines.  They actually will twine around anything given the chance.  In just a matter of moments, the tendrils can latch on and then cling while supporting the tall plants.  After the plants get approximately 4 to 5 ft tall, BAM!, there is an explosion of blooms!  Like Pop, I plant the lilies.  In fact, I got my start from him.

  The lilies are also sometimes called Flame Lilies due to their red, yellow and orange colors.  Each bloom starts as a sort of pale yellow and, as the blooms age, they flip inside out and start a progression from yellow to orange to red.  Honestly, I thought that the name was...meh...ok but did not see the full resemblance until this morning.  

  As usual, I was on the pier before dawn and once I started the trek back up the hillside to the Small Gardens, the beauty of the Flame Lilies hit me.  Wow!  Yep!  They really live up to that name!  With the beams from the rising sun backlighting the lilies, they really resembled fire!  Whoa!  While the sunrise was just so-so, this was extraordinarily breathtaking!  My goodness!

  Now that I have witnessed the "fire" in the Flame Lilies, I am pretty sure that the name will stick.  Too bad most other folks will never see them as I had the opportunity to do this morning.  (Not many folks are traipsing about the place at the crack of dawn.)  

Predawn Encounter!

   Being up before dawn gives one an entirely different view of the world.  At that time, the mind is not yet cluttered by the day's events and the brain can decipher things far more clearly.  Distractions of everyday life can often get in the way of what is really happening right beneath our noses.  I see things.  I hear things.  My brain absorbs things.  It is no wonder that this is a favorite time of day for me.  

  I was on the pier before dawn to watch the sunrise.  The show did not disappoint as a kaleidoscope of hues lit up the sky.  Since the weather forecast called for dense clouds, I was sure the sun would catch hold of each and every one.  It was spectacular!  Then, a real treat was in store for me as I meandered back up the board path to the Little Bayou House.  A soft chirp let me know that one of my bird friends was awake and aware that I was out and about.  On a dead branch of the avocado tree, a lone blue jay stared down at me.  It softly chirped again and looked down at the bench where I usually put seeds for my friends.  The bench was empty.  Obviously, the jay was letting me know that it was hungry!  I had to remedy that situation right quick.  With a cup of seeds in hand, I was surprised to see my friend still on the branch waiting for breakfast.  Carefully, I sprinkled the seeds on the board seat and stood back to converse with bird.  "There you go, my friend."  "Chirp" "Yes, I know you are hungry but it is still pretty dark."  "Chirp"  "Alrighty, then!  Have at it!"  "Chirp"  Yep, it almost seemed as if the bird was answering me.  I stepped back about two feet and the jay fluttered down to the bench, grabbed a seed and flew back to its perch.  Ahh, life is good.

  Being still dark, I headed inside to make a mug of coffee and, then, joined my friend in the garden.  There, in the stillness of the early morn, we shared a bit of satisfaction along with our repast...my coffee...the bird's sunflower seeds.  We were both happy campers.  Life is good.

Bayou Magic at Dawn

  Once again, I urge folks to really stop and take notice of their surroundings.  There are so many things that we all overlook everyday.  STOP!! Stop and literally "smell the roses".  Life is so amazing but most people never pause long enough to notice.  We all become so caught up in our everyday lives that taking the time to really see what is around us is low man on the totem pole.  Nope!  No more!  Call it a resolution or a promise to yourself but really take the time to find the miracles in your own backyard.  It matters not if you study some small pebbles or start identifying wildflowers...just really take notice of things. After a short time, you will find that there is a whole new world opening up to you.  Discovering what is naturally there can increase your creativity, relieve stress and actually improve your health!

  Down behind the greenhouse, there is one thicket that is full of tiny plants and mosses.  If I am there at the right time of day and the sun is doing its thing, the whole place turns into a magical spot.  As the sunbeams spill through the canopy of leaves overhead, each tiny plant is highlighted.  Shadows dance off the tree trunks and leaf-laden ground.  I fully expect at some times to find a band of tiny elfin creatures residing there!

  Today's magical find was a small clump of Oxalis or Wood Sorrel.  This is one of many types of wood sorrel that can be found now growing wild throughout the area.  The sorrels are one of my favorite wildflowers simply because they can bloom any time of year.  Let a couple of warm days come and the woods are full of the hot pink blooms. The sunbeams highlighted the blooms in a glorious manner!  I sat in awe of the beauty.  Here...here is a little Bayou Magic.

  

  

Spread a little sunshine

   Being up before dawn is pretty magical, if you ask me.  The world sits in silence as all the noise-makers are still asleep.  The only sounds to be heard are those of the night creatures that are settling in for a nap.  A few of us day creatures are merely out to enjoy a bit of peace before the hubbub of the day starts.  The magic comes from the feeling that this specific time was created for "me" alone.  It is the perfect time to gather strength to face whatever may come.  All is good.

  A few days ago, the sun came up like a fiery ball.  Even before it cleared the pines on the opposite shore, its presence could be "felt".  It was as if the sun was trying to tell me that the darkness of the night is only temporary.  The sun rises and clears away the doubts held by the nighttime hours.  It gave hope that this old world was going to mend and be whole again.

  Folks, the sun can rise, it can spill light in all the dark corners but it cannot heal the world.  That is up to us...all of us.  You know what?  Now is a good time to do just that.  Rise like the sun and spread light and kindness on the world.

Purple Mornings

  Often, I speak of the Magic of the Bayou.  To me, it is a very magical place.  There is an inexplicable serenity that engulfs you as soon as you step foot in certain spots.  This is most evident at dawn and just before nightfall.  It is as if the very essence of the place enters the soul and proclaims that strife should be lifted.  The mind becomes calm, the body relaxed and all seems right with the world.  

  Due to things beyond my control, the night had been sleepless other than short "cat-naps" caught in between a billion thoughts.  The mind felt cluttered even though I had a "conference" with the Black Racer yesterday.  I have found that many times pouring your troubles out to some critter really helps. The conversation with the snake did momentarily but, then, nightfall with hours to think and fret.  Come daybreak, an odd purple color tinted the window curtains on the east side of the living room.  This was not like other sunrises that beamed dark red.  Something was different and that difference called to me.  As soon as I stepped out the door, I was slammed by the beauty wisping about the hillside.  A light fog had laid in across the marsh overnight and the sun coming up over the pines tinted most of the yard purple!  Ok, so this was unusual but REALLY magical!  The Magic of the Bayou was in full force this morning!  Who would imagine a PURPLE yard??  

  Wandering about the hillside made me completely forget the unrest of the night.  My peace had returned!  All was good.  The Bayou and its mystical, magical ways calmed the anxiety and steadied the nerves. With that, I headed back to the meeting place of the Black Racer.  I wanted to thank the snake for being such a good friend.  Ahh, yes...bayou therapy is a grand thing.

Sunrises and Critter Friends

  Dawn is one of my favorite times to be on the pier.   The serenity that comes after the darkness of night is refreshing, to say the least.  Watching the sun peep up over the pines on the opposite shore of the Bayou is nothing short of miraculous.  I can meditate a bit before facing the trials of the day.  

  Yesterday, Mark and I headed to the pier just in time to catch the sun trying to break through a heavy layer of clouds.  In the distance a rain shower gave relief from the bit of a dry spell.  We were hoping it would swing this way but it kept on its northward path.  While we were watching the eastern sky, a small bird swam out from the shore and kept a wary eye on us.  This was a pied-bill grebe.  These birds would rather dive than fly to get away from potential predators.  They do what is called a "crash dive" where they plummet themselves beneath the water and swim for a good distance before bobbing up again.  Pied-billed grebes are known to be able to trap water in their feathers to help with buoyancy.  This allows them to sink deeply and expose just a bit of their body as they scan the area for predators.  Sometimes, you will only see a small head above the water's surface.

  Pied-billed grebes are also known for eating a good many feathers.  They will actually feed feathers to their chicks. This is to create a block against harmful fish bones or spiky fins from reaching their intestines.  The feathers make a plug around the sharp items and the bird regurgitates it much like a cat does a hairball.  

  The little grebe made our morning even nicer.  Being near the wildlife on the Bayou is another part of what makes living here special. Getting to know the critters and their habits has become an interesting pastime.  My critter friends bring plenty of smiles.  Life is good.

A Good Sunrise Can Mend A Lot Of Things

  When the brain hurts from too much stress, it is my nature to cut myself off from the world for a bit.  I head to the pier before sunrise to contemplate what can be done to remedy the situation at hand.  More oft than not, just a bit of time in solitude pondering the sights around me is enough to mend my frazzled state.  I figure that some things just cannot be changed no matter how hard I try so accepting them is the next best thing.  Perhaps not accepting the worrisome part but accepting the fact that it does no good to fret over the inevitable.  We all have times that are not to our liking but, hey, life is not easy.  It is not supposed to be easy.  If it was, we would all sit back on our haunches and become nothing more than a bump on a log.  It is necessary to have things that kick our butts now and again purely to keep us on our toes and striving forward. 

  This morning, the sunrise did its job in rectifying a few of the hiccups that got in the way yesterday.  Listening to the birds awakening in the back woods, watching a redfish as it played the mullet along the shoreline and seeing the sun slip up over the pines on the opposite side of the Bayou was all the medicine I needed to face the day with renewed energy. After about twenty minutes of Bayou Magic, I headed back up the hillside.  There was work to be done and I had no time to be muddling around in despair.  Life is good.

Is It Woody?

  Silhouettes fascinate me.  On the hikes about the hillside and down near the marsh edge, there are certain times of the day that silhouettes can be found at every turn.  The shadows under the canopy of treetops and the blank sky over the marsh makes for an amazing tapestry of images.  I photograph any that strike me as interesting.  Let one dead tree remind me of something in the past or let a cluster of leaves create a "face" and I am all over it!  The past few days have been perfect for imaging.

  The gray skies of winter coupled with the shadowy darkness of dawn are the perfect time for silhouetting!  This morning, I promise that I found Woody Woodpecker from the old cartoons.  Up on the side of a dead pine, the perfect outline of the crested creature came into view as I rounded the first curve in the path.  Why have I not seen this before???  There, about twenty feet from the ground, sat Woody in all his glory!  

  Agreeably, other folks will think my brain has been chilled beyond thinking by the recent cold snap.  Not many will see the famed cartoon character sitting in my dead pine.  It matters not.  Perhaps the vision is there for my own enjoyment.  Perhaps my active imagination is working overtime. Perhaps Mother Nature enjoys playing tricks on my mind.  Who cares!  Woody sure did not!

Someone is lurking in the shadows!

  During my early morning hikes around the Bayou, there are some pretty wild sights to be seen.  Critters are out in full force at that time as the nocturnal ones are heading to bed and the diurnal ones are shaking themselves awake.  Sometimes when I make the mistake of heading out too early, the shadows are tremendously dark and I ponder what might be lurking there.  Since the old dog, Mr. PJ, is not strong enough to be any defense, it is prudent that care is taken.  There is no reason to put him in a dire situation trying to protect me. 

  This morning, the sun was not cooperating about rising.  A thick cloud cover made things a bit shadier than norm.  Sounds from the Bayou were exaggerated causing a bit of angst but my hike was not to be hampered.  At one point, the red sky reflected in the last remaining tide pool in a nigh on empty Bayou.  My position put me in the right spot to see just what was wading about in the water.  Right in the middle of that reflection stood my friend, the heron.  The great blue heron was fishing for breakfast before dawn.

  The heron knew I was just a few feet from him but he made no effort to fly.  He was aware of the fact that I could not get to him without some doing since there was a small strip of marsh that included lots of brambles between us.  The bird felt safe and continued his hunt for breakfast and I went on about my merry way hunting for my next adventure.

A Towhee Sort of Morn

  It is no secret that my favorite time to hike is just before dawn.  Things are different then.  It is quiet except for the sounds of critters waking from a night's sleep.  It is peaceful as people have not yet begun to mar the day with their insensitivity, squabbles and unreasonable noise.  It a time uninterrupted by the hustle and bustle of the day.  It is my time.  In fact, it is about the only time that I can truly claim as my own because, before dawn, everyone else is still asleep and the old dog has gone back to his warm bed.  I guess I am the only crazy one on the Bayou.

  This morning as I eased my way down to the pier, a slight north wind was chilling me to the bone.  This would be a short hike since I forgot to don the heavy jacket.  Still, I needed the serenity of the early morn so I proceeded.  Just as I neared the pier, something rustled in the palmetto clump.  It sounded far to small to be a coon or rabbit so I thought perhaps the rice rats were scurrying to find their warm nests after a night out scavenging.  Nope.  Several small birds hopped out of the clump and sort skipped to the pier.  Ahhh, the towhees!

  The sight of these little birds never fails to thrill me.  They are perhaps the busiest birds to ever call the Bayou home.  These tiny birds are seldom seen since they prefer to scratch about in thickets.  This pair nested in the palmetto clump this past summer.  I knew they were there but with their excellent nest building and habit of hiding that nest, I was never able to see the little ones.  Since they are still hanging about the same bunch of palmettos, perhaps they plan on nesting there again.  Towhee Watch will go into full force this spring!  I love these little birds!

Out Before Dawn

  It was still dark when I slipped out the back door to head to the pier.  I had to be stealthy as to not wake the entire household.  Had I gone out the front door, the old dog would have wanted to go but he has problems on the pier.  Better let sleeping dogs lie...  Had I gone out the west door, the grandlittles would have heard the squeak and jumped out of bed.  Better let parents get a bit of sleep.  So, I headed out the back door and let everyone enjoy a bit more snoozing time.  It appeared that I was the only one who could not sleep so there was nothing else to do but go to the pier.

  As I eased my way across the frosty boards, a strange squeaking sound greeted me.  I knew in a moment that  some baby raccoons were searching for breakfast on the mudflats.  There have been two little rascals raiding the compost pile for the past few weeks.  Obviously, their hunger had pushed them to search for little crabs instead of eating wilted lettuce leaves and eggshells from the compost.  As I neared the marsh line, I could hear the two squabble a bit.  Perhaps one had found a crab and the other wanted it.  My little friends were so busy fussing that they did not hear my footsteps on the pier boards.  The coons were oblivious to my presence.  

  After a bit, one raccoon meandered down the flats to enter the marsh but one cutie stayed near the per and let me watch his funny antics.  The raccoons are adorable critters when they are tiny.  This morning's duo looked to be about six to eight months old.  They were large enough to be foraging on their own although they may be returning to the den to rest.  The young will snuggle together to ward off the cold during their first winter together then will separate and go their merry ways.  Cute, little rascals!  I am glad I made the trek to the pier before dawn. 

Leave It To A Bird

  Every now and again, a person needs to step back and take a breather from what he is doing.  Things can come to a grinding halt if they begin to feel overwhelming.  Remodeling is a lot like that.  What starts as a minor touch up of paint soon becomes an entirely consuming ordeal.  My situation started when the siding was being replaced near the front door.  Son asked if I was particularly "attached" to the windows or could he remove them.  They were rotted from exposure to hurricanes and the high humidity found on the Bayou.  Once the windows were removed, it led to the door being ousted as well.  Then, the whole shebang of redoing the inside was set in motion.  For the past two weeks, I have spent every waking hour, it seems, on the top of a ten foot tall step ladder.  You do what you have to do.  This morning, however, I needed a break!  I just could go no more.  So, I took a hike to gather the thoughts.

  As I sat on the pier at daybreak, I had the revelation that I was doing it again.  I was "playing it safe" and trying to satisfy everyone else's idea of what is acceptable.  I figured that if I am going to be happy, I need to step out of that safe zone and do what makes me happy.  That is easier said than done, though, and I needed some reassurance that my decision was the right one.  Just at that moment, a heron flew in to sit with me on the pier.  I had been photographing the bird as it sat on my brother's pier and never expected the bird to come so near.  So...the bird and I sat just a foot apart enjoying the dawn of a new day and a new experience.  Neither of us made an effort to move or to acknowledge the other.  We just sat. 

  Was the bird telling me that my decision was correct?  Was it trying to tell me I was ok just being me?  Hey, if you ask for a sign, you take whatever you get.  In my mind, the bird was definitely an omen that things were right with the world.  Now...back to work.

Help! My Brain Has Gone To Mush!

  Pop always lived by the mantra of "Early to bed and early to rise".  Growing up on the farm, we were all expected to do the same and do it without argument.  We had better be out of that bed and in the kitchen by 5am if we wanted breakfast.  Pop cooked breakfast and we ate it...again without arguing.  There was no "I do not like this!"....you ate it.  Pop's idea of a good breakfast was something that would "Stick to your ribs." so, needless to say, we did not have a choice.  We ate mush.  Yep, cornmeal mush was usually what the pot held and what we ate.  Then, about mid morning, we were treated to a snack!....of fried cornmeal mush.  Yep...leftover mush was allowed to cool in the pot, then sliced and laid on a cast iron griddle loaded with butter.  After frying on one side until crispy, it was flipped then fried on that side.  After the stuff was done, it was served with homemade sugarcane syrup.  I could have easily passed on the first go round of mush and had mine fried.  At least, the syrup helped the taste tremendously.  But, no one complained.  We were thankful for what we had.

  Although, I have not had cornmeal mush since I became an adult, I still stick to that mantra Pop instilled in my brain.  "Early to rise" comes naturally.  I have never used an alarm clock nor needed one.  Come 5am, I pop awake and cannot for the life of me go back to sleep.  This morning was no different.  Even though the sun refused brighten the horizon, the old dog and I headed to the pier.  A heavy cloud cover prevented even the least bit of light to guide us.  It was nigh on 7am before I caught a glimpse of the sun.  This gave me time to sit and think about all the things that rattle around in the brain while sitting in the darkness.  I thought of Pop serving up steaming bowls of cornmeal mush each morning and of the fried mush snacks.  Back in the day, it was looked at as a good, solid breakfast that could be served at minimal cost.  Now, I find that the the fried stuff is on the menu of several "high-end" restaurants.  Three small (3 inch) squares of mush drizzled with syrup cost a whopping $9!  Imagine if you added eggs, sausage and a cup of coffee??   I had no idea I was eating so high back in the day! 

  After a bit of reminiscing, the sun started to rise, the dog alerted me to a band of rain coming across the bay and we headed back to the Little Bayou House.  Since then, thoughts of Pop and his cornmeal mush treats have been sneaking back into the brain.  Perhaps a pot of mush will find its way onto my stove in the next couple of days.  I wonder if it will taste like the "Stick to your ribs" breakfast of long ago or like $9 of fancy food?  Funny the things you ponder when waiting on the sun.