The Shady Nook

   After piddling in the Small Gardens a bit, it was time for ice cold lemonade and a bit of rest.  It was hot out there and I was told "Don't get overheated nor dehydrated."  So I followed the doctor's orders and pulled my comfy wicker chair into the shade and sat sipping my lemonade.  Being in the gardens made me happy this morning.  If I cannot go for hikes, I can enjoy the birds singing, frogs chirping and butterflies flitting about the place.  The Small Gardens have become my "Happy Place" where most of my healing is being done.

  As I was cooling myself, I could not help but notice how delightfully restful a shady garden really is.  The vegetable plot is sun-drenched but huge oak trees and draping mimosa trees block out most of the heat of the day from the "sittin' area".  From here, you can hear the water running in Pebble Creek and watch the tadpoles in Puddle Pond.  It is also here that a myriad of butterflies visit the zinnia bed.  Gardens are restful.  Life is good.  "Nuff said.

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.

Utopia or Imagination?

  Sometimes, it is all in how you see things rather than what you are actually looking at.  I know that does not make a lot of sense to those not familiar with a thing called an active imagination but, for those of us with one, it is the norm.  We often see things a good bit differently than other folks.  Not that it is a bad thing since it does keep us amused.  

  Early this morning, I took the old dog out for his usual walk.  Since life now revolves totally around his needs, I can never be far from him.  He falls and cannot get back up.  (Someone needs to invent one of those Life Alert things for dogs.  I am not being flippant there...it really would come in handy.)  That said, I can not  go to the pier.  It has been ages since the sunrise has been photographed (or even enjoyed) from over the water.  I have had to start looking for gaps in the treeline to get any pictures, whatsoever.  This morning was no different.  It was a gorgeous sunrise but the walk took us behind a thick grove of trees.  One small gap gave me a glimpse of what I was missing but, also, gave me a different perspective of the horizon.  I photographed what I saw as a "floating island" amidst a surreal landscape.  A lone oak tree gracefully spread its branches while the sun reddened the waters about it.

  In reality, the large, sprawling oak tree is the top of a lanky pine tree.  The bayou of reddened waters is merely the sunrise shooting rays on the clouds.  The "island" is lower branches of the same tree.  I did not see it that way.  I saw it as utopia.  That magical, mystical place where one could escape the worries of the world and find peace.  Maybe I just need that peace right now.  Maybe I need a magical, mystical place to escape.  Maybe the Bayou just feeds the imagination and, yeah, I want to go there.

As Good As It Gets

  Occasionally, someone will ask just why I live like I do.  "How can you stay on the Bayou everyday and not go places?" is one of the questions that is thrown my way on a regular basis. Folks obviously think living here is a bad thing.  Perhaps it is to others but it suits me just fine.  People question my lack of "modern conveniences" like air conditioning and central heat units.  They question my raising a garden and catching most of our food.  They question everything from my clothes, my craft clutter, my antique furniture, the dusty books on the shelves and my habit of adopting any stray animal that comes to the Bayou.  Personally, I do not care.  It is none of their business how I live my life.  I do not pretend to fret over their lives and I wish they would just ignore mine.  It does make me ponder, though, just how empty others lives must be if they have to "fix" mine with their suggestions, hints or their unsought advice.

  To my way of thinking, I live in a small piece of paradise.  I awake to the most beautiful music of birds singing, I tend the garden and get to watch the miracle of life spring from the soil, and I am lulled to sleep by the sound of waves gently rustling in the marsh and frogs serenading me from the pond.  I fish when I want, eat healthy, homegrown foods and have the liberty to create pieces of art when the whim strikes me. Instead of exhaust fumes from cars and factories, I breathe the aromas of jasmine, wisteria and magnolias.  I am not stressed by media overkill of every happening of a world that I cannot control.  In other words, I am happy just how things are.  For those who cannot understand the Bayou life, I have just a few words.  You have not found peace in your own life if you have to give unsolicited advice to others in how to change theirs.  

  Yesterday morning, I was sitting in the garden reflecting on just how amazingly wonderful things are.  Blessings abound to those who can see them.  I am where I want to be. I have found my peaceful place.  Have you?  

Just What I Needed

 The past several days have been spent at my daughter's house.  We had plans to visit the bog again but the weather did not participate well so, instead, the days were spent inside.  As usual, we discussed just about everything under the sun "and put it back to suit ourselves" (to quote my late Uncle Alfred!)  We talked of the world's problems, pondered paint colors for her living room walls, bantered over our ideas on clothing and our preference over the color black, delved into the next Clue Hunt on the Bayou and discussed in depth the idea of opening a business.  It was great!

  All of this chatter led me to realize that new ideas are like new beginnings.  There is always the opportunity to start new projects at any age.  Being with Elizabeth has renewed my interest in a lot of things that have been thrown the wayside.  At the same time, being with her has made me realize that I need to stop being hindered by what other folks think I need to be or to do.  Other folks' approval, their advice, their ideas can just go in one ear and out the other.  She has given me the boost that I have been long needing.  I am eager to begin.  Spending the weekend with Elizabeth is just what I needed.

  Once I returned to the Little Bayou House, I started thinking how the renewed spirit in me is a lot like the sunrises on the Bayou that I so dearly love.  Each morning is a new chance to change what I do not like.  Each new day brings hope.