Lurking on the dark path

   When your hike takes you along some dark paths at daybreak, everything seems to loom larger, stay darker and appear to be downright scary at times.  The same path during the bright daylight hours is totally different.  This morning, my hike down by the wild persimmon trees was only lit by the ambient light of the morning sunrise and that was dimming quickly due to thick, dark clouds.  Not one to be afraid of the dark, I pressed forward choosing my steps carefully.  Back here, there are still some places that hold Hurricane Zeta debris from several years ago.  I figured there was no need to let some random, rusty nail pierce my soft moccasins and, thus, my foot.  So, I stepped lightly while also keeping a sharp eye for any impending "danger" that may lurk in the shadows.  Coyotes and bobcats are known to roam freely here during the night.

  Just as I made a bend in the path, I paused.  The bare treetops were clearly outlined against the clouded sky.  A huge "blob" was huddled in the top of one of the persimmon trees.  Coon?  My first thought was a raccoon had sought the tree as a place to settle in for a nap.  Something seemed off, however.  I stood quietly in the shadows waiting...waiting for movement that would identify my critter before I moved onward.  The figure shifted positions.  Still...not identifiable but, at least, not threatening.

  A few more minutes led to a fit of giggles!  My mystery critter was Bat!  My goofy cat had scooted down the path before me and climbed the tree.  When I rounded the corner, all I could see was a dark outline of a critter.  Like I said earlier...things seem to loom a lot larger than in real life. Bat is a huge cat but he sure seemed to be a lot fatter while huddled up in the tree.  My silly, sweet cat was now winding around my legs wondering why was laughing.  Oh, Bat!  You are something else!

Bayou Mud, Memories, And Giggles

   I often speak of our "Bayou Mud" and the quicksand-like sinking that comes with it.  Never...I repeat...NEVER drop anything into that mud that you ever wish to see again.  It ain't happenin', folks.  Once it is in there, it is there to stay.  Some 50 years ago, Pop slipped and accidently dropped a small outboard motor into the water about 3 ft from shore.  Down it went and, even though, he tried, he never found that motor again. It is probably "perfectly preserved" somewhere down deep in that mud like an ancient artifact.  Also, never think you are going to "slip" over the side of the pier/boat or whatever and walk to retrieve something.  You...you will sink just as rapidly.  Just like that...you will become so mired in the mud that you may become "perfectly preserved" like one of those bog mummies that I read about in history books only you would be a bayou mummy.

  I was thinking about the squishy mud when a memory slipped into my head.  This had been stored there for some time now just waiting for the opportunity to pop back up and bring a giggle.  When my oldest son headed off to college and had been there some time, I asked if he missed anything from back home.  I was thinking he may mention some item and I could secretly ship it to him as a surprise.  Well, that surprise was on me, I guess.  He told me that he missed the smell of the mud during low tide.  Huh?  Alrighty, then.  I never thought anyone would miss that and there went my idea of a surprise package.  I was not about to go scoop up a bottle of mud and ship it to college.  Nope...ain't happenin'!  I am not shipping mud anywhere!  It was sort of nice to hear that he did miss something from the Bayou and home, however.  Mud?  What was wrong with missing me? With all of his world travels now, I wonder if he still misses it?

  I guess if anyone was around at sunrise this morning and heard me giggling while on the pier, they most likely thought I was slap nuts.  Maybe I am...but it is nice to think back on fun memories instead of dwelling on the current state of affairs in this old world.  

Pink Blurs and Happy Giggles

  As long as I can remember, there have been tales told about the Bayou and its denizens....and I am not talking critters here.  There were tales of lynchings, plane crashes and weird fire balls floating through the air.  Whether any of these were true, remains to be seen (except for the fire balls...they ARE real) but sometimes I have to wonder if some paranormal things occur.  Occasionally, something will strike a chord and make me think.  If you remember from posts past, I have discussed weird faces appearing on a wall, pictures literally flying off the shelf and even strange noises in the Little Bayou House.  (As a note here, the first Bayou House, which inexplicably burned to the ground, had its share of odd happenings, too.)  While these strange occurrences send some folks in a fit of nervousness or even fear, I have yet to be afraid.  Yes, I do feel that "something" odd is happening and perhaps there are unexplained "visitors" here but not once have I been frightened. 

  A few days back, I randomly took some photos of an old oak tree that stands right on the marsh edge.  The tree, in itself, is pretty innocuous but as I was photographing the tree, I could hear laughter.  I brushed it off as giggles from the children across the Bayou and nothing more.  My photography session lasted a few more moments but I could not shake the feeling that someone was nearby.  I had the strange feeling that this old oak tree had been the "play house" of children long before my own were climbing the limbs.  

  After viewing the eight pictures that I took of the tree, one stood out as a bit unusual.  All photos were taken from the same spot in the yard and all were taken within a minute, yet, one was far different.  In fact, one photograph even "felt" different.  I have always heard that orbs and blurs in a photograph were paranormal beings.  These were not blemishes but visitors.  Perhaps?  Maybe for folks who believe that we occasionally have encounters the oddities bring a hint of solace.  The oak tree in the one picture had a strange blur which could either be explained away as the sun glinting on the lens or be taken as something more.  When you throw in the giggles at the same time, one has to wonder.  Then again..a pink orb or blur is explained as being a happy entity full of fun and love so I figure the giggles fit right in with my blur.  Maybe?  It is all good.

It Wasn't Me!

It wasn't me! I used to hear that excuse often long ago when the kids were small.  A chorus of frantic voices would chime out that response whenever something went awry.  I would get a tad tickled as they always tried to find some scapegoat to blame.  Usually, that scapegoat came in the form of the youngest who always admitted to anything (even if he was not the instigator!).  Today, however, it was me who breathed as sigh of relief when something was amiss.  While out getting twigs to use as starter for the fireplace, the pruning snips broke.  Those things snapped right in two!  Whew!  It wasn't me!  Knowing my history of breaking most every tool used in yard work, I was happy to find that Michael actually broke this one. That same son that was always the scapegoat really had done it!  That said, this whole story would not have taken place had it not been for those broken snips.  A series of unlikely events took place merely because of the snips even if indirectly.

The broken snips that were the beginning of a series of unlikely and unfavorable events!

After the snips did their ill-timed deterioration, Michael and I decided to make use of my granddad's old snips.  Those were stored in the shed and were only used occasionally.  As Michael wheeled the wheelbarrow of cut twigs to the woodpile, I reached into the shed to retrieve the old snips. We had intentions of cutting a bit more kindling before calling it quits for the day. After grabbing the tool, I took one step backwards to turn toward the door.  The shed was dark.  I had not looked inside before entering.  Bad mistake!  As soon as I took that calamitous step, I regretted it.  There was a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.  Things were not good..not good at all.  "Uh oh!", I muttered.  "Uh oh?", Michael queried.  I tried to explain the weird feeling underfoot.  "There is squishy!"  That was enough to cause tremendous concern. Yep, there was squishy!  As I lifted my foot, long strings of goop dripped with a splash back onto the floor.  Beige, squishy, goopy stuff was engulfing my feet!  PAINT!  Yep, a five gallon can of paint had a major problem sometime in recent days.  A large puddle was seeping slowly from beneath the open door like some great pulsating blob.  UGH!  I pulled the door slightly to see more paint.  What a mess and I had stepped right in the middle of it!  What could we do?  A giggle fit took over!  That seemed like a good thing to do at the moment!

I told Michael to find paint brushes.  He looked at me with skepticism and asked what I planned to do with paint brushes.  Being one that hates to waste anything, I informed him that we were going to paint the shed!  I had been planning to do it anyway so I might as well make use of all the spilt paint!  At that point, he informed me that it was raining and not a good time for painting anything.  I persisted!  Yes!  We will paint!  So, we painted.....in the rain.  Scooping up brush after brush of paint from the floor, we spread it on the outside wall of the shed only to have it wash down the side in mud-colored rivulets.  Another round of giggles!  It was great fun!  After about an hour of this, he fetched another large bucket and scooped up several gallons of the paint while I continued to slap paint on any wall available.   By now we were getting a tad silly.  Paint was on our feet making it hazardous to walk.  Paint was sticking our jeans to our legs and drying making our clothing stiff.  Paint was on our shirts and in our hair!  We were covered with the smeary stuff!  The grand finale to this whole fiasco came when my paint brush fell out of a makeshift extension handle and splatted me right in the face!  Now I can tell you with some assurance that paint does not taste delightful at all!  Enough is enough!  Giggles! Again!

We quit the insane job of painting the shed during a rain shower and grabbed the water hose to wash the rest of the paint off the floor.  The floor of the shed is made of decking boards and was supposed to have a small gap between each plank.  The water should flow right through or so we thought.  Duh!  Big mistake!  The paint had been sitting there for several days obviously as it had caused the boards to swell tight against each other.  My pouring water on the paint did nothing but cause a flood in the shed!  Oops!  Eeek! After another round of witty remarks and many giggles, Michael had a brilliant idea!  Grabbing the drill, he bored a couple of holes right in the floor!  Water poured out like Niagara Falls! It was wonderful!  A flood of beige-colored water poured out under the shed!  All I could think was that I was thankful that this was non-toxic water-based paint! One hour of flooding the floor and scrubbing it with a broom saw us still with a mess. That paint was refusing to cede!  More witticisms and peals of laughter.  By this time, my sides were beginning to hurt from laughing so much!

The blob of paint did not look so bad until I peered behind the door only to be met by gallons more!

It was then that I noticed that my ceramic molds were sitting in paint.  Oh, no!  These had been stacked behind that very same door!  Ugh!  That would never do!  Those would definitely have to be cleaned if I ever wanted to use them again!  Well, nothing to do but set to work on that job.  It could not be delayed if I wanted to preserve the molds.  Son and I moved forty or so molds before getting to the bottom ones that needed cleaning.  Another job done!  We moved back to cleaning the floor.  Just how much paint was there? Looking at the floor and the smeary paint, I thought that only he and I could see the humor in such a mess!

After getting that whole ordeal under control, we decided that it was definitely quitting time!  We were exhausted!  I turned to look at him and burst out laughing!   He was covered with paint!  He pointed out that I was just as bad.   Yep, it took a good long time to get "unpainted"!  I am not sure we will ever get all of the beige paint out of our hair, jeans, shirts, socks and shoes.  I can say that we did at least treat the whole thing with a sense of humor.  It goes to show that a little laughter can make an enormous job a lot easier. (Just don't mention beige paint to either of us for a few days!)

To answer any questions about the cause of all of this, Michael has come to the conclusion that the change in temperature and air pressure caused the five gallon, plastic paint bucket to implode.  He checked two others that were sitting next to this one and found that the lids and sides were sucked in by the pressure.  Turning the pour spout caused the pressure to equalize and the buckets to return to their normal shape.  Just something to think about if you have paint stored where the temperatures can cause problems.  I would definitely hate to see anyone else have this problem!  If you do, though, laugh while you clean!