Even though my daily hikes have been severely curtailed due to the old dog's health, the path still calls. He just does not have the stamina to walk much further than what is necessary each day. Rather than cause him anxiety by leaving him behind, I am merely foregoing any extended absences. The lack of hiking and long stressful nights of assisting him are taking their toll on me, however. My appetite has not waned only the exercise! That said, I figure it is time to find a new way to concentrate on my health! So I am searching.
I will say that I sorely miss the interesting sights, sounds and smells of the woods, creek bed and Bayou. This morning while the old dog, Mr. PJ, did his morning business, I sneaked a peek at my one of my favorite spots along the path. Down behind the greenhouse, the path winds around the palmettos, through the wild persimmon trees and under the large live oak trees. The sight, although beautiful with the spring foliage, left me wistful. Oh, how I longed to meander down that path to see how things have changed over the past few months. I yearned to peek into the birds' nests, drop to my knees to examine the wildflowers and breathe the aroma of the blooming sweetspire.
Just as I was tempted to venture forth, a gentle nudge brought me to my senses. Looking down, I stared right into the doleful eyes of my sweet buddy. Not today, adventure! Duty calls. Today, this sweet fellow needs me and I will be by his side. Good ol' Mr. PJ.
I have a personal vendetta against the Eastern Lubber Grasshopper. I come by it naturally. Granddaddy carried on a feud with these guys for years. He would try to kill as many as he could each spring and then all summer long. It did no good. No matter how many you kill, there are just as many (or more) the next spring. Like him, I will go out of my way to stomp on one and I am one of those "live and let live" sort of folks...most of the time. With these grasshoppers, it is more of a battle of survival. If I wish to have any sort of garden, I have to be overzealous in dealing with the lubbers. If left, the critters can strip a garden of every leaf in a matter of days. Gardening would be a bleak endeavor.
Back on the farm, the grasshoppers were unheard of. We had no inkling such a critter existed. While we battled things like tomato worms and aphids, grasshoppers of any kind were just sort of ignored. Then came Hurricane Camille back in 1969. It was an intense hurricane like none other before. The Coast was nigh on decimated. It took so much away but also brought an everlasting plague. The Eastern Lubber Grasshopper washed in on the tidal surge and never left.
This afternoon, I noticed two of the critters in different stages of their morphs. One was still in its juvenile black stage while one was a full adult. These, both, would have met their demise had I been able to reach them. They were smart to stay out in the marsh. As I came back up the board path to admire the ruby lilies that were gently swaying in the breeze, my heart sank as I spied several other grasshoppers happily munching the lily stalks. Needless to say, I value my lilies far more than some bug. Those five are no more. Granddaddy would be proud to know that I am carrying on his battle! The torch has been passed and the lilies are safe for at least one more day.
