No Spitting Allowed!

   Several times in the past, I mentioned the two-striped walking stick bugs.  When I was a curious tyke, I was given plenty of warnings to steer clear of the critters.  "Spit Tobaccos can spit at you and you will be hurt."  Pop let my curiosity be sated with exploration of most critters but not ones that would cause harm.  I was allowed to hold non-venomous snakes and spiders, catch beetles, play with squirrels, rabbits and even baby fox but, at the same time, I was taught to respect all critters and give the harmful ones plenty of space.  In other words, I was encouraged to "view those from a safe distance". The two-striped walking stick can cause severe pain and even a temporary blindness with its "spit".  I still follow Pop's rules...somewhat.

  As I was watering the garden, a slight movement in a potted amaryllis made me take a closer look.  As the leaves were pushed aside, a walking stick came inching out and sat on the outer edge of a leaf.  It moved no further even though I busily watered the other plants for a full twenty minutes.  The bug sat there as if to inform me of its presence in hopes that I would not further disturb its peace.  I did not.  The bug (or in this case, bugs) and I shared the space with  not further ado.  

  Most folks would have been a bit squeamish about having the walking stick nearby.  Just the thought of a 5 inch long,  "tobacco juice" spitting bug can prove to be daunting to some.  I, on the other hand, go by the mantra of live and let live..as much as possible.  With the walking stick, I may come to regret this decision as they do eat plants.  For now, the critter can live in peace as long as it does not spit.  Spitting is disgusting in all forms!

A Friend With Sage Advice

  It seemed to be a fine day for making a new friend but, since I rarely leave the Bayou and since not many folks come to visit, there was a slim chance of doing so.  The morning passed with not a person in sight and all hopes of a bit of quality time being spent with anyone were quickly dying.  Well, if it had to be that way, so be it.  I value my alone time highly and should not complain if the day should include nary another soul.  That is the way of life for me.  I tend to be content with what is thrown my way.  Today would be no different.

  Along about noontime, the sun was warm, the skies were blue and a hike seemed to be in order.  Meandering about the Bayou fills me with wonder as there is never any lack of magical occurrences found there.  Usually, the hike begins and ends at the pier.  A huge loop takes me around the marsh and deep into the creek bed.  Under the dark canopy of trees, magic is sure to happen but, this time, that magic happened in a sunny spot directly down the hill from the front door.  As the path twisted and turned, a bright splotch of sunshine found my new friend.  Here was the very being that I was supposed to visit since dawn.  Coiled upon some brambles, a black racer was basking in the warmth.  It did not take but a moment for the realization that my "new friend" would not be human but was to be this snake.  Dropping to my knees, I settled in to let it know that all was well between the two of us.  The snake made no effort to move as we sat just inches apart.  At times, I would rest my hand on the very bramble where it was resting.  A mutual respect was being shared.  A good hour was spent doing nothing more than appreciating the magic of the Bayou with my new friend.

  According to some legends, snakes can represent many things such as transformation, creativity and healing.  The transformation of oneself into a better person seems to be a pretty good idea and a boost in creativity is always needed but it was the healing that was brought to mind with this encounter.  It was time to discard any "venom".   For the past few months, things around here have been sort of topsy-turvy so my brain was in dire need of a good cleansing.  It was high time to purge the negativity that had accumulated and rejuvenate the spirit that dwells inside.  I could do this...I can do this...I will do this.  Life is good only if we choose to make it that way.  There is no time to stand idle and let things slide.  

  The time spent with the snake was refreshing to the soul.  It felt as though the two of us bonded through just being.  Whether I see this friend again is not important.  The message that I gained is, however.  It is funny how critters can sometimes speak volumes more than humans who supposedly have the talent to talk.  Communication with most people is little more than inane prattle.  Communication of thoughts is the key.  The hour was well spent with a fine friend, indeed.

Advice on a foggy morn...

  The other morning, Son and I were meandering about the hillside when he made the remark "It is almost fog-time." He was referring to the time of year when fog seems to be a daily occurrence.  Little did he know (or maybe he did!), that the very next morning would find us in the midst of a pea-soup thick fog.  Everything was white!  We could not see the end of the pier, the house across the Bayou nor the tops of the tall pines. The fog-time had come.

  In a way, I like the foggy morns that linger into late afternoon.  I feel shut off from the world almost as if I am on my own little island.  The world may be buzzing around me but the thick layer of fog blocks out any evidence.  Even sounds are muted which adds to the mystique.  Usually, these days will find me on the end of the pier with my mug of morning coffee.

 This morning was much the same.  Mark and I headed to the pier but, instead of tarrying there, he hopped into the little skiff.  To him, these days are perfect fishing days!  I stayed on the pier just long enough to watch him disappear into the fog.  I did give him one bit of advice even though he was fully aware.  If fishing on one of these foggy days,  Pop always used to say "Watch the shoreline! You sure do not want to wind up in the channel."  The large tugboats traveling the channels cannot see a small skiff in time and the result could be devastating.  It is best to stay near the shore and not venture too far into the vision impairing fog.  Good advice from a wise man.

You Have To Start Somewhere

  Back behind the canebrake, we have a small peach orchard. Well, we DID have a small peach orchard.  Oh, the trees are still there but, for the past few years, we harvested nary a peach.  For a few years, the trees gave us tons of the plumpest peaches imaginable.  Yes, we lost a few to the squirrels and raccoons but the rest were harvested!  Then, the deer found the trees and that was that.  They even went so far as to knock down a six foot tall fence to get to the fruit.  Now, the deer get to the fruit before it ripens. One bite out of each peach and then drop the remains.  We do not get a single peach.

  Well, all is not lost.  Those peach halves that were dropped contained the seed.  Now, hundreds of tiny peach trees are popping up in the lawn beneath the trees.  I am elated even though these tiny trees will most likely not bear the large juicy peaches that we desire.  They ARE peach trees, however, and you have to start somewhere.  A new orchard closer to the house is in the making!  Tomorrow will find me out back with a shovel and flower pots.  The tiny trees will be dug, planted and babied until they grow to about four feet tall.  Then...the work.  Those dozens upon dozens of peach trees will be grafted with limbs from our one remaining "good" peach tree.  We have one tree that I grew from a seed about five years ago.  We had been on a trip to Georgia to visit our new grandbaby when we purchased some peaches to bring home.  On a whim, I planted a seed and the rest is history!  The tree is amazing!  Small cuttings will be taken from that tree and grafted on the seedling peaches from the back orchard.  

  I am sure glad that Pop taught me all of the farm tricks that he knew.  Sometimes I have trouble remembering just how things were done but if I ponder a bit, the information usually comes back to me.  He always had the best fruit trees and the prettiest garden.  One bit of encouragement still rings in my head.  When I would question how to get a nice orchard or a perfect row of beans, he would  always say in his old easy-going farmer's drawl "Well....you have to start somewhere."  Makes sense...just start.  So the new orchard will start tomorrow with a bunch of seedling peach trees!

"Hit It With A Hammer!"

  I have always said that I have far more critter friends than I do people friends.  This is by choice as I find the critters far more amiable than most folks.  Even wild critters seem to appreciate all you do for them and are willing to just be friends without asking for a thing in return.  With the recent holiday season behind us, I find that, more than ever, folks are irritating, to say the least.  No matter how much you do for some folks, they always want more.  They take until you are just bone dry and then come back to rattle those bones.  It is times like this that I feel that I could fully do without ever seeing anyone.  That is one of the main reasons that I rarely leave the Bayou.  This is my peace.  Whenever I get a bit unnerved, I seek the solace that only the water can bring.

  There is a young man that has been visiting the Bayou since he was just a wee lad.  He spent many a days (and nights) here as a youngster and has sort of come to be an "adopted" son.   Chris is a good natured sort who is always ready to give a helping hand when needed..which is not something I can say about a lot of folks that come here.  I thought about Chris, today, and one of his bits of "advice".  Whenever something is rattling those old bones of mine, he simply advises "Hit it with a hammer!"  I have never tried it before but I have to admit that it sounded pretty enticing today.  I truly considered that smacking a few folks with that hammer might knock a bit of sense in their heads.  So, short of doing something that was totally out of character and that might just cause me to wind up in jail, I hunted for another means of "beating the tar" out of something.  

  I picked up the axe and started whacking at the pile of wood that needed splitting.  While I used to be quite adept at splitting a load of firewood without taking a breather, age is catching up with me.  As good as it felt to release a bit of stress by smacking that axe down on the logs, I did not really make that much progress.  The pile did not get a lot smaller although the stress level sure did.  After about forty minutes of swinging that axe, I only had enough firewood for the day. Only nine logs were split and I was exhausted!  The axe went back to the shed, the firewood was toted inside to the fire bin and I collapsed in the old rocking chair.  

  Yep, hitting it with a hammer is good advice.  Smacking it with an axe wears you out but it did have a good final effect.  Instead of sitting and brooding about the situation at hand, I worked it out of my system and got enough firewood to warm myself for a bit.  Thanks, Chris.  You are pretty wise for such a young man.  Tomorrow, however, will find me sore from this new exercise, I am sure!

To Wait...or Not??

  A lot of the times, we are told to "seize the moment".  It is wise to make haste and tackle whatever is thrown at us.  It makes sense.  To procrastinate means that opportunities could be lost or problems could worsen.  That said, sometimes just the opposite is deemed more sensible.  Wait.  Be calm and await the outcome of a situation.  There is no need to rush headlong into things.  So...it is your choice.  While both tidbits of advice seem logical, you can only do one or the other.  Not both.  

  This afternoon's hike led me down to the back corner of the property.  It was near where the Bayou turns into a creek that runs far back into the woods.  Here all was quiet save for the deer flies smacking my head and mosquitoes buzzing in my ear.  This afternoon, it felt far too quiet to be "normal".  Something was afoot.  Perhaps some unseen predator lurked just out of my vision and silenced all smaller critters.  Nary a bird sang nor did a squirrel chatter.  Even the frogs were mute!  This quietness stopped me in my tracks and caused me to search out any larger critter hidden beyond the brush.  Nothing.  Several birds were sitting still in the treetops and one squirrel hunkered down just above my head but nothing else could be seen.  All the rambunctiousness of the critters had come to a halt while they waited for the threat to pass. Whatever that threat was, it seemed as if the waiting game was the chosen tactic for avoiding it.  I decided it was in my best interest to ease back out of the woods and head for the Little Bayou House.  While I was not frightened, I have to admit that there was something foreboding about the place today.  

  Then there was a need to NOT wait.  Back at the Little Bayou House, something required immediate action!  I had not noticed before but, as I watched the swifts exiting the top of the chimney, a flash of green caught my eye.  Duh!  That seems to be a stupid place to plant a tree! Obviously, a squirrel had stowed acorns up under the chimney cap and with all of the recent rains, one sprouted.  A sapling was now growing in my fireplace!  While this needs attention, I am not going to shimmy up that chimney to remove a sapling!  Son can get up there to yank the dumb thing from its sprouting spot.  Tomorrow will find him taking the bull by the horns or at least the sapling by the stalk!  Some things can wait...this cannot.  

A Bit of Wisdom

  Not much happening here on the Bayou other than chores.  I do not mind as chores give me plenty of time to think and to reflect on how things truly are.  My uncle used to have a couple of sayings about things like this "We talk (think) about things, take them apart, put them back together again and then turn them around to suit ourselves."  and "No matter how hard you try, you will never satisfy some folks. Don't try."  It makes sense in a weird sort of way.  

  As I was pondering all the complex things that normally stay hidden in the dark recesses of my mind where they collect cobwebs and become obscure, a sudden realization came to me.  Why do I give problems a rat's tail chance of worrying me?  I am happy here on the Bayou. I am happy being who I am.  I am happy doing the things I do. Mark and I are happy together.  So why fret about anything else?  Sometimes it takes a while for good advice to sink into my brain.

  That settled, I set back to work on clearing the flower gardens.  Uncle Alfred was right all along.  Just setting things straight in my mind made all the difference in the world.  Thanks for the good advice Uncle Alfred. I sure miss our talks.

Hope

  With the direction that most of the world seems to be heading, it is becoming more and more a relief to keep to the solitude found on the Bayou.  I can meander about the hillside in relative safety and, more oft than not, find a small bit of happiness along the way.  That joy might be in the form of a nest of baby rabbits, the sighting of the red fox as it slips behind the canebrake or even a tiny flower that has managed to take root and flourish in some tiny nook not meant as a garden.  I suppose it is all in the way you look at things and if you go out looking for despair, you will most likely find it.  On the other hand, go out looking for beauty and you are bound to not be disappointed.  Yep, sometimes it takes a bit of searching but it is there.  Mother Nature does not tend to leave things in disrepair for long. 

  Ms. Ez, the old Bayou Dog, and I hiked about a bit early this morning. There was still a bit of greyness lingering on the horizon but the day promised to be delightful.  I let the dog roam free this time as I was not in search of any elusive critter.  I was more out just to gather my sanity after being cooped up inside the Little Bayou House.  As she galloped ahead of me, I thought how delightful it must be to have not a care in the world.  She was a happy camper.  This is one time that the dog actually led the way and was not required to follow at my heels.  I do think she felt an air of importance with her freedom.  She headed down to the marsh edge under the old oak tree so I dutifully followed.  It was almost as if she was leading me somewhere and I felt it only proper to follow.  Once under the tree, Ms. Ez started sniffing the reeds as if to say "These are highly interesting!  You should take a look!"  So, I listened to her and proceeded to inspect the reeds.  "Alrighty then. These are just normal marsh plants, my friend," I told her.  Then I looked again.  Yep, normal marsh plants but in a way, not so normal. The plants were full of seeds.  They were full of hope for a new generation...hope of a fresh start...hope for tomorrow.  

  The human race would be much better off if we, as a whole, would learn to listen to our critter and plant friends.  A bit of hope for the future generations can be as simple as a seed...a seed of kindness...a seed of generosity...a seed of understanding.  In a way, it is sort of funny how an old dog and a weed can give better advice than most people that I know.