I figure that we all should do our part, no matter how small, in taking care of this old planet. It is the only one we have so if we kill it, we kill ourselves. Not a happy thought, now is it? So, whenever I get the chance, I try to improve things a bit. This usually involves me picking up and properly discarding other people's trash. I have long gone by that mantra of leaving behind only footprints but it appears that others want to leave behind half of their belongings. It is my observation that these same folks are the first to complain about the fine fix the world is in. People whine far too much and do far too little to suit me.
That said, I also try to leave Mother Nature alone when it comes to the Bayou. She has a firm grasp on what is needed for the ecosystem to survive and thrive. Wildflowers, also known as weeds by others, grow where they will and I refuse to clear them. My gardens are filled with the volunteer plants as is the marsh and woods. The plants not only make me happy but play a huge role in Mother Nature's plan. Those "weeds" have a purpose.
Just this afternoon while out on a stroll with the old dog, I pondered that purpose. I watched as a small bumblebee was busy gathering pollen from the goldenrod near the pier. The bee was heavy laden but still went from plant to plant. Yes, it was gathering the pollen for the winter. While these bees do not overwinter in a huge hive, the queen needs sustenance to survive until spring. Sometimes, she is the only one to overwinter. Come spring, she, alone, will start the colony again. By allowing the goldenrod and other wildflowers to grow in the yard, I, in a sense, am aiding in the pollination process that is so important. Without the bees (of all sorts), the pollination of plants would diminish and, thus, begin to die out. Without plants, our food source will die out as well. So, by leaving the wildflowers, I am doing a tiny part in helping Mother Nature in her vast plan of our survival.
Way down behind the canebrake where the hillside slopes down to the back of the Bayou, there is a spot that never seems to fail in enchanting me. Whether it be during the dim hours at dawn or the sun dappled time just before dusk, there is something almost magical about the spot. Or, maybe it is just my imagination. Could be but I still find the place fascinating. It is here that you can hear the towhees rustling in the palmettos and the squirrels scolding you from the tall oaks. From the midst of the canebrake, a rain crow (or yellow billed cuckoo) coos softly and the scritch, scritch, scritch of a pine warbler's sharp toes can be heard as the bird searches the pine bark for bugs. There is a soft breeze blowing from the north and with it a scent of sweetspire wafts through the air. The place is perfection making it easy to become lost in the wonderment.
Son and I pushed our lawnmowers for nigh on four hours today as we trimmed up the place a bit. Tomorrow will be much the same. Four more hours and the mowing should be complete. After cutting, I eased my way back down to the "secret" spot and sat on an old log enjoying the solitude. Sometimes, refreshment can come from no more than just listening, smelling and watching what is around you. After a good day's work, it is satisfying to be able to communicate with Mother Nature. I so appreciate the beauty around me. This magical, mystical glade is one of the spots where I can find serenity from the hubbub of the world.
