I'm Free!

   So it was my first day to freely roam the entire yard...well, almost.  I did get to leave the confines of the Small Gardens and hike about the lower part of the yard and around by the canebrake.  Still, there was no wandering on the pier or creek bed but that will come soon.  After a bit more than a month of confinement, it sure felt glorious to stretch my legs and do some wandering!   While there was not a lot in the way of exciting events occurring during my hike, the escape was enough.

 While on the lower part near the pier, a beautiful bloom caught my eye.  A cluster of Salt-marsh Morning Glories had just started to open.  The buds had turned to the east and were bursting with beauty as the sun rose over the horizon.  I was excited as I have not seen these beauties in weeks!  It made me realize just how much I have been missing while my healing was taking place.

  

  The Salt-marsh Morning Glories are rather interesting plants.  As many times as I have tried to plant the seeds along the garden fences, they have never done well.  It takes having their "feet" wet to make them flourish.  Salt-marsh Morning Glories grow right in the brackish waters of the marsh.  In times of storms, flood waters can completely cover the vines but, once the water recedes, the vines go right on living and blooming.  The saltwater does not kill the roots. The blooms can be the pinkish color like the ones near the pier or almost blue.  There is even one beautiful white type that blooms on the other side of the Bayou where I cannot roam.  

  Yep, it does not take much to bring smiles when you are free to roam.  I can hardly wait until the ban on the pier visits is lifted.  I really NEED to get back to that water!  Happy hiking, folks!

Not Today, Buddy!

  Physical therapy in the gardens has to be the best way.  Strengthening those muscles along with fresh air cannot be wrong.  Plus, I get to watch the critters that visit.  Early this morning, I was captivated by a grasshopper, of all things.  While I hoisted weights, the grasshopper basked in the sunshine.  The grasshopper seemed to not have a care in the world and, for a while, I agreed with him.  As far as I could see, the critter was enjoying life to its fullest but that changed within a snap.  Danger lurked in the mimosa tree!  The grasshopper was unaware that he was in a predator's sight.  He lingered on unaware.

 A flash of red told me that my friend, the cardinal, was searching for breakfast.  Each morning, I set out seed for the family of cardinals.  The male always comes first to make sure it is safe before calling his family in to feast.  This morning, however, the cardinal had his eye on the grasshopper!  I was torn between letting the bird catch the insect or helping the bug escape.  Either way, there would be a loser.  Was it to be the bird's breakfast or the bug's life.  Nature will be nature so I refrained from scooting the grasshopper under the ginger plants.  We would just have to see how this played out if I was to be neutral.  "Let nature take its course" has always been a difficult task for me to follow but...I lifted weights and watched.  The drama that was to be never unfolded.  The bird was distracted by another male cardinal and they went chasing each other in a territorial battle.  The grasshopper was safe for the time being.

  It has long been thought by most folks that Northern Cardinals only eat seeds.  Their thick bills do lend themselves to cracking the shells but about 30% of their diet is made up of insects.  They will often take moths, katydids, flies, spiders and, yes, grasshoppers as tasty treats.  In fact, the parent birds feed their nestlings on mostly a diet of insects. So, had it not been distracted, the cardinal would have made short work of my grasshopper friend!

  

I thought about it

  Today was Mother's Day where all mothers are to be honored and celebrated.  It should be their day off from the worries of the world but, I have got news for you...that just does not happen....especially with the uncertain times that are slapping us in the face.  Mothers worry.  Mothers fret for the safety of their children (even when they are grown).  Mothers are mothers.  We will always look out for the best interest of our kids.  Obviously, there is no "day off".  The work is just conveniently shoved to another day.  After all, who is going to pick up the slack while everyone insists she sits.  The answer...no one.  No one!  The laundry, cooking, cleaning, caring for children, tending the needs of all family members, caring for the ill, soothing bruised egos are all mom chores.  No one will pick up the slack.  Don't even think that some one else will scrub that toilet cause it ain't happenin', folks.  It ain't happenin'.

  Perhaps it was just because of this social distancing or chalk it up to a bad mood day, but this was not a favorite day of mine.  Oh, it had its bright moments since I did get to "see" (but not hug) my beautiful daughter and handsome son-in-law.  We had to keep our "6 feet distancing" since she is in the medical field and is adamant about not spreading the virus.  (I fully agree with that.)  Having them here (in the yard) for a few moments was glorious!  Another delightful moment was when Son pitched in to help home can the green beans that Mark brought home for the farmer's market.  His quirky jokes made the time go faster.   Still, I missed my oldest son, sweet daughter-in-law and grandlittles.  That huge hole in my day hurt.

  Speaking of "holes", I was tempted to crawl into one I found early this morning and just stay there.  I could ride out the day in perfect bliss hiding in the sky!  There was one break in the clouds that gave the illusion that it was an escape hatch from the worries of the world!  If only I had a ladder long enough to reach the clouds, things would have been ok.  Sometimes you just need to escape....I thought about it. It might have been a fun adventure!

 

Of all times....

  Mr. PJ, the old dog that has come to live with us, has been a perfect jewel the entire time I have been ill.  I think he understands that I am under the weather and has not wanted to aggravate me in any way.  I can open the door and let him go do his business far down the hillside without worry.  He has not tried to leave the Bayou.  Actually, that would be nigh on impossible with his aging legs and arthritis anyway because of the sheer distance but it is a relief that he has not ventured far off his given track....until today.  Today...today, of all days, he decided to raid the compost pile which is far down behind the house near the canebrake in the opposite direction of his usual roaming spots. 

  While this would have been aggravating enough, he would not return when called.  Ugh!  This meant that I had to don a jacket and head out to retrieve the dog.  Still not bad except for the fact that there was pea-soup thick fog and a fine mist falling.  Still...not the end of the world...except that I have the flu.  Added together, the events deemed troublesome enough to rile me a bit.  As I traipsed through the drizzle to fetch the dog, I kept calling.  He was not even paying one iota of attention to my yells.  As I rounded the corner of the shed and he was in view, he darted under the small deck on the back of the storeroom.  Now what??  It was all I could do to control the temper that was welling up inside of me.  Two things....one...he knows the compost pile is off limits.  Has been ever since he first started to visit the Bayou some ten years ago.  Second....he should know that going under decks, sheds and the house are a no-no.  He has been reprimanded enough to know better.  So, his infractions kept piling up.  

  After I finally persuaded the runaway dog to reenter the Little Bayou House, a foul odor hit me.  Ugh.  Yep, he reeked to High Heaven!  Obviously, he had not gone for the fresh orange peels, mushy banana or anything recent.  HE had to wallow in something that had been there for a while!  By this time, I did not even have the energy to fight him into the tub. The bath would have to wait for another day.  Darling Daughter had given me a bottle of "doggy perfume" back when Ms. Ez was with us so that came into play.  A few spritzes later and I could breathe.  I looked at the old dog and his tail started thumping on the floor.  Big, sad, puppy dog eyes glistened up at me as if to apologize for his misdeeds.  Oh, geez, Pup! You were grounded...were...ok, I still love you.  Now to get the wet clothes off, brew a mug of herb tea and try to stop the shakes.  Of all the times in the world for you to choose to go on an escapade, this was probably the worst.

Flu Stricken and Pondering??

 When a person is sick with the flu, their brain often does not work clearly.  Mine surely does not!  This afternoon, I peeked out the window to see the sun shining brightly and that did it!  I grabbed a jacket, called to the dog and made yet another great escape.  Being confined to a sick house, even when I am sick, is more than I can bear.  While the menfolks were napping like good patients, I was ambling along the path soaking up that glorious sunshine!

  Although I felt well enough for a stroll, the brain kept coming up with strange thoughts such as "How many baby minnows does it take to make a school?"  Do you know?  I do not but there were thousands of the little jokers playing in the shallows.  They were enjoying the bright sun just as much as I was.

  Another thought..."Why do flying squirrels prefer to gnaw hickory nuts from the pointy end while grey squirrels go to work on the side?"  That is another of life's great mysteries at least to a flu-muddled brain.  If you have the answer, it would be great to know.

  Also, "Why do smilax vines so closely resemble a spiderweb?"  Spiders and vines have nothing in common yet their intricate work can be comparable.  (I should have photographed the vine before PJ rent it asunder with his plodding but I was slow on the take and about as befuddled as a cat chasing its tail.)

  The good news?  I felt much better after being out and about.  Fresh air, sunshine, doggy friend and lots of wonders of the world can make all the difference.  Back to the menfolk...they have the three "C's".... crouping, coughing and complaining.  I guess it is best that I escape now and again to try and preserve what little sanity I have left!  Just how many minnows does it take???