The Morning After...

   Last night, Son walked out with me to view the Night Blooming Cereus.  The plants are potted and sit on a plank bench near Pebble Creek (the glorified roof drain).  I know it is probably silly but these plants have a strong meaning to me.  These are direct descendants of plants that Granddad grew. In fact, he rooted my very first plant and gave it to me when I was still in high school.  Over the years, I rooted more until I have a dozen and have shared with all my friends.  I did, however, almost lose every one during Hurricane Katrina.  There was no way to protect the plants and, at the time, that was the least of my worries.  Afterward during the massive cleanup, I found one small "leaf" and from that started anew.  The memories of "Night Blooming Cereus Parties" still hold a special place in my heart.  About a week ahead, we were put on "bud watch".  As the tiny buds grew, so did the excitement (at least for me.)  Then, on the big night, the family would drive over to my grandparent's place and we would have supper and wait for the buds to open.  The buds usually began to open around 8pm but were not in their full grandeur until about 10pm.  That late hour added to the intrigue.  It was one of the few times that I was ever allowed to be up late and especially to be that late at someone's house.  It was special!  Like I said, Son and I went out to view the blooms.  Nine of the buds were opening!  I marveled at the beauty and the aroma.  Son, on the other hand, patiently humored his mom.  

  Then...the day after.  The morning after the blooming, the excitement fades and a sort of sadness settles in to replace it.  The blooms of the cereus only last for one night.  They open late and then before dawn, the blooms start to wane.  By sunrise, the once dinner-plate-sized blooms are sad, wilted remnants of themselves.  This morning, I snapped off the spent blooms and tossed them to the wayside.  They were done.  I was sad.  Until tonight!  More buds are set to open tonight and for the next few nights.  This is the third time this summer that the plants have set buds.  I think I finally found the perfect spot for them to flourish.  Sadly, however, not a one of the plants that I shared with friends and family have bloomed yet.  Perhaps they are lonely and I should root some more!  Granddad would have.  He always said that if you want your plants to do well, then you should share them with others.  It works, for sure.  Memories...tied to plants, just like to people are well worth hanging onto.

Times have sure changed

  Occasionally, I visit the social media world just to catch up on folks and their every day doings.  It is quite apparent that if you wish to find out anything, run through that "newsfeed" and it will all be laid out for you.  No one tries to have privacy any more.  Everything is there...what people eat, their choice of clothing for the day, their arguments, their pet peeves and even the color of their underwear.  Come on, folks.  Some things need to remain with you and not be plastered all over the web.  Granted, I pour out my heart on this blog but I have yet, and will not, post private things.  Sorry.  If you want that, you will have to go elsewhere....oh, try social media!  You won't find my private life there but you will find enough from others to make your head spin.

  Speaking of privacy and social media, modesty has also gone the wayside.  There is nary a bit of decency in some of the "selfies" posted.  To be honest, it is appalling not appealing.  This whole bit brought to mind a rather humorous occurrence so many years ago.  It seems that when my grandparents paid to have a photograph made of their youngest daughter in her early teens, there was some tension over the instructions given by the photographer.  Helen was a beauty and had on a lovely gown.  The photographer told her to pull down the ruffly shoulder straps for an "off-shoulder" look.  She was then told to look over her should in a "sultry" gaze.   My grandmother immediately went over, pulled the sleeve up some and told Helen to smile sweetly.  In the meantime, my grandfather had a "friendly" talk with the photographer about how Helen was far too young for that! The photo session proceeded and the results were lovely.  

  Today, parents acting like this would never fly.  I see parents dressing their preschoolers in more provocative outfits than what Helen wore that day but the world sees it as perfectly fine.  The kids' photographs are plastered on social media and everyone oohs and ahhs.  No one thinks of the message that these tiny tots are receiving through all of this.   It is no wonder that pre-teens, teens and young adults see nothing wrong with what they share with the world.  It is a wonder, however,  that parents cannot understand where their teenagers got the idea that it was ok.  Hmmm.  I guess I am just feeling my age and have an intense yearning for days past when modesty, decency and self respect were all considered admirable.  

Can The Beauty Knock Out the Beast?

  Since I was a toddler visiting my grandparents, I have had a love for "Ham and Eggs".  No, not the food stuff but the flowering shrub.  Ham and eggs, shrub verbena and yellow sage are all names (depending on the area) for lantana.  Grandmother called it ham and eggs so the name stuck.  She always claimed that the colors reminded her of breakfast.  Lantanas come in a wide array of yellows, whites, pinks, reds and oranges....all on the same plant!  The small flowers form clusters that used to adorn my dolls when I was a tot.  The clusters were the perfect size for a doll to hold and since the blooms were all on one stem, it made it quite easy for a little child to affix the bouquet.    My grandparents' yard was the perfect play place for a little one with a wild imagination.  The visits always thrilled me, were (probably) tolerated by them and gave Mom a break after having so many kids.  (There were five of us to handle!)

  Now, the lantana holds a spot of honor in my yard.  Not only does the shrub grow well and can tolerate all what is thrown at it weatherwise, it roots easily.  Instead of having one, there are dozens of the small shrubs dotted about the place.  Some have come up as volunteers in places where they will have to be eventually moved but I cannot stand the thought of killing any of them.

  The pretty shrub also does double duty as its leaves and stems are touted to repel termites.  If you live on the Gulf Coast, you will fully understand our love for anything that can help move termites on their way.  Since Hurricane Katrina struck so many years ago, termite swarms have grown to be a horrifying beast.  Their voracious appetites have leveled homes and have given the rest of us a run for our money.  The Little Bayou House has seen its share of the critters and has been in a constant state of renovation since the storm.  It seems that the termites have even grown tolerant of the sprays so there is just not a lot of hope.  Lantanas!  Do your job!!  

Second Chances

  Sometimes, timing is everything.  When you miss an opportunity, it is gone...never to be seen again.  True, there may be other instances that you can "redo" an event but the one is over and cannot be repeated.  Take for example a bloom in the garden.  Two days ago, I noticed that the Night-blooming Cereus had a large bud.  I was excited, although I have seen the plant bloom many, many times.  There is just something about those fleeting blooms that only occur at night and for only one night that stirs the kettle of fantasy.  Well, things got a bit crazy with the poor, old dog being ill and the bud was forgotten.  It opened in all its glory with no one to view it.  It went unseen.  I missed it.  This morning, the bud was spent...wilted...gone.

  The Night-blooming Cereus is sort of a family tradition with me.  Back when my grandparents were still alive, the buds literally meant a party was to be planned.  The whole family would gather to watch the buds open into their dinner-plate size blooms.  It was great even though, as a toddler, I thought the goofy bud was rather poky at doing its thing.  It was not until later that I fully appreciated the beauty of the plant.  Granted I do not throw parties when mine blooms and granted I often forget (like last night) but the plants are still cherished.  In fact, there are nigh on a dozen of the plants being cared for in my collection....all from a start from my grandparents' huge cereus.  The cuttings are passed down generation to generation with explicit instructions on how to care for the plants.

  Night-blooming cereus plants are also called "Queen of the Night" which refers to their habit of only blooming after nightfall.  They are a type of cactus that grow long, pencil-thin shoots that flatten into "leaves".  It is on the second year growth that the buds will form from these flattened shoots.  Because they are night-bloomers, they are highly scented and are pollinated by moths and occasionally even bats.  It does not take much care to grow the plants other than an occasional watering and feeding.  They do, however, need to be protected from cold weather.  Anything below 35 degrees is not agreeable to them!  A greenhouse or large, bright window spot is a necessity!

  Then, this evening, another bud began to open! By 9pm, a happy bloom unfurled its petals and allowed me to partake of its beauty!  Thank you, Grandmother and Granddaddy for teaching me patience.  Sometimes, timing is everything.

Oh, those kids!

  I hear mothers griping about their kids even when their so-called brats are adults.  Why?  I could never figure this as, to my of thinking, if you are complaining about your child's behavior, then you, as a mom, are not doing something right.  That said, I must say that I have good kids...when they were tots and even now as adults.  They amaze me!  All three are smart, polite, respectful and, well, talented...each in his/her own way.

  The two youngest are still near enough that they lend a helping hand when needed.  The upcoming Clue Hunt on the Bayou is a big ordeal and I can use all the help that is offered.  They are amazing.  Son literally does most of the hardest jobs and Darling Daughter lends her talents in the artwork area.  I am always needing some portrait or another and she never fails to render the perfect piece.  While she sketches or paints my needed piece, Son makes some of the most gorgeous frames for her artwork.  The two work together to help their old mom!  Whew!  What would I do without them???

  This year's theme centers around and eccentric, elderly couple.  I pondered just who should represent these fine folks when it dawned on me that my grandparents would have loved this endeavor.  They were all about fun!  So, Granddaddy and Grandmother were chosen as  the centerpiece of the clue hunt!  I was not sure if Elizabeth would agree to sketch her great-grandparents but I sent her their pictures on a whim. She was elated!  Whew, again!  I did have one request...a minor change...nothing TOO difficult...I hoped.  I wanted to change their clothes to something a bit more Victorian and not from the 1950's. Surely that would not cause problems!  

  Son started the frame and she started the portrait.  It was exciting to see the progress on both parts.  Needless to say, both kids outdid themselves!  I am impressed as always!  The likenesses are uncanny and the frame is outstanding.  Good job, kids!  You make your old mom proud....as usual!

Queen for the day!

  I have a tendency to hang on to things even long after their use has dwindled.  Some things actually never had a use to humans only to the critter that first "owned" them.  Years ago, said items were considered collectible. Take for instance, the Queen Conch.  Back in the 1920s, it was obviously all the rage to gather the large shells and use them in home decor.  At least my grandparents did and somehow, I inherited their shells.  I am talking about two very large Queen Conch shells. These sat on the hearth of their fireplace.  I remember as a kid being fascinated by the "queen-sized" shells and thinking that they were the most lovely things ever.  Most likely this adoration was simply because the inside of the shell was pink and, back in the day, pink was my most favorite color.  I would sit near the hearth and gaze at the lovely shells. That was about all I could do as I was not allowed to touch them.  In my mind, that "do not touch" meant the shells were highly valuable.  Now, I have the shells....just what I needed.

  I have never thought much about these large (twelve inch) shells until today.  The sun was just starting to slide down into the western horizon when the shells took on a whole new look.  The sunbeams streaming through the window made the shells literally glow!  Once again, I was a little kid that was mesmerized by the golden-pink color and now I am not even a "pink person".  

  Although the mollusk and their shells are still used, their harvest is now regulated.  The large Queen Conch was on the verge of being over-harvested and their numbers were rapidly declining.  Since the regulations have been put in place, things seem to be better for the mollusks.  Hopefully, this unique critter will keep its place in our world. My grandparent's shells?  Perhaps I shall enact a "do not touch" law and keep the shells about just as a reminder to be more mindful of other life around me.