My Backyard "Tower"

   Being tightly bound to the Small Gardens has made me start looking for points of interest that I might ordinarily overlook.  We all do that.  We become so hung up in what we "have" to do that we have a tendency to forget what we "need" to do for ourselves...those things that inspire, induce tranquility or simply cause us to "stop and smell the roses".  Having the title of "Queen of the Small Gardens" imposed upon me during my time of healing has brought my "workload" to a crawl.  Sorry, being lazy both hurts and helps.  Physically, I ache from suddenly becoming more or less inactive.  Mentally, the brain is whirling with fantastical tales.  This seems to be something inherited from my maternal grandmother.  It was passed to my Aunt Helen and then instilled in my brain through contact with the two of them.  They had the ability to create magical scenes for any child who wished to listen and believe.  I did both.

  That said, yesterday, as I was strolling through my garden domain (thing queen here!), I spied the cupola that sits atop of a house which is probably a quarter of a mile from my house.  The Bayou is between the two houses. In my previous hikes along the marshline, the cupola definitely sat on top of that house.  The whole house was visible and, while I thought the thing was neat, it never inspired any creative ideas.  It was just a cupola that would need a difficult paint job as the need arose.  Since my view was from a different angle and the cupola was mostly hidden behind the grape arbor and tree line, it suddenly became a "garden tower" and thoughts soon drifted to tales that the aforementioned ladies had shared.  Ahh...faerie tales...the Land of Enchantment...a little girl's happy time...all came tumbling out of the dusty corners of the brain.  

  Who knew that a neighbor's cupola could stir the creativeness to a point that I wish to write, paint and recreate some of those long-lost tales?  Perhaps, this void in my usual busy day can be filled building ideas instead of greenhouses.  Maybe, the seeds that I should be planting are ideas and not the start of plants.  Possibly, I needed a time to slow down and find a different, more pleasing role for myself.  It is a thought anyway and one that I shall seriously consider.  Healing can take many different routes, it seems.  So...as Queen, I shall start or, at least, make an attempt.

Faerie House? Gnome Home? Just A Stinky Mushroom?

  Since I am back to being Queen of the Small Gardens instead of the Swamp Queen, I search for things to occupy the brain all within my realm.  This is getting exceedingly difficult since my realm now is quite small and devoid of the usual massive "rainforest" type plants.  Those perished with the winter freezes due to insufficient heat in the greenhouse.  (Never trust that flood lights can replace heat lamps.  They are not the same...but I used what I had on hand.)  That being the situation, I now have to search high and low for things to entertain myself.  As I slowly meandered the garden path, I felt depersonalized.  It almost seemed as if I did not belong here.  This was one of the first times ever that I overlooked what I told others to actually "see".  Something was just not right.  I entered the fenced vegetable plot that was usually filled with cabbages, broccoli and cauliflower heads just waiting to be harvested.  The rows sat empty....and sad.  Ok, so this was not helping my mood at all!  Everything needed to be fixed starting with my attitude!  That decided, I was determined to find that overlooked point of interest and, with it, rid myself of this almost feeling of self-pity!  Nope, that was not going to take hold and linger long.  It had to be remedied and fast!  I searched for that one elusive element that would set things right.

  That diversion came in the form of the lowly Clathrus Columnatus which is commonly known as a type of stinkhorn.  Yep.  One of those stinky mushrooms that most folks detest.  I admit to them not being a favorite of mine but this one bemused me.  I had found something that started the wheels of the brain to start a slow whir.  There was something about this stinkhorn that looked vaguely familiar.  I had to dig deep into the dusty corners of the mind...back behind the cobwebs and dust bunnies...to stumble upon a recollection of where I had encountered anything that triggered a slight memory of resemblance.  Then it hit me.  Way back in the day when I was a tot (eons ago), my Aunt Helen spent hours with me making faerie houses and gnome homes.  She had me convinced that these beings were real and lived among us all while unseen.  (I still kinda/sorta believe!)  We would create fantastical little houses from whatever was on hand and make pretty gardens of mosses, tiny flowers and pebbles to complete the perfect faerie/gnome paradise.  My found mushroom reminded me of those happiest of times spent in nature with a favorite aunt.  It was marvelous!  I could literally feel my doldrums being lifted and my spirits starting to soar again.  The Queen is back even if she has a smaller realm.  Let the imagination fly and let the kingdom flourish with magical and whimsical moments of joy and peace.

Refocus

   With all the everyday hubbub, it is easy to lose focus on what really matters.  "Things that need to be done" can oftentimes get in the way of what "should be done".  We all get hung up in chores, duties to others and the humdrum of everyday life that we forget to keep an eye on that "should be done" which is take care of ourselves.  I know I am that way much to a fault.  Lately, I have not dedicated any time whatsoever to selfcare and my physical, as well as, mental state is taking a severe hit.  It has got to stop.

  That was the revelation that I had on the pier this morning before dawn.  The skies were just beginning to glow that glorious golden orange when I noticed a lone heron standing hunched over in the shallows near the marsh.  The bird was slightly hidden behind some tall cord grass and it took some focusing of the camera to be able to photograph the bird.  After getting my picture, I watched as the bird looked so forlorn...so forgotten.  I know herons are solitary birds meaning they prefer to be alone except when seeking a mate but this fellow did give the appearance of being lonely.  

  Pondering the bird, the difficulty focusing the camera and the forlornness of the setting, I came to the conclusion that I needed change.  I needed me.  I guess it is time to shuffle the daily workload for a while so I can get back to me.  Refocus...

The Unlikely "Lemonade"

   It is not a hidden fact that I will give just about anything a try.  If you tell me something is edible, I am game.  There are a few things where I draw the line since I am a pescatarian but if it is within my diet range, I will give it a go.  I have no qualms about eating what others deem to be weeds or flowers.  As long as it is not going to kill me, it can be on the menu.

  Here lately, I have been experimenting with concoctions that are supposedly health friendly.  Since my heath took a sharp turn to the "not so healthy" side and doctors cannot find what is ailing me, I decided to take matters in my own hands.  Weirdly, I feel better than I have in months.  My "foraging" in the Small Gardens and perimeter woods has led to some highly unlikely snacks and drinks.

  For the past few weeks, I have discovered the wonders of crepe myrtle and hibiscus flowers.  Both flowers are antivirals and, well, since Mark brought home a nice case of COVID, I decided I could use all the help I could get.  Not sure if it had anything to do with it but, as of this writing, I am still virus free...hopefully, will stay that way.  The other benefit is that I have noticed my arthritis seems to be not nearly as severe.  Perhaps it is helping?  A decoction made from the two flowers and a cinnamon stick then added to homemade lemonade made for a delightful drink.

  While all of this may be just a happy coincident or maybe it is "all in my head" (yes, I have been told that) but if wandering around a garden and picking flowers to eat (or drink) helps, then so be it.  I am good.  I think I will continue with my daily drink for as long as I have the flowers!  Does it work?  Who knows?  

Flowers are Artistic

   The flowers in the Small Gardens had to fend for themselves for the past month.  With a torn muscle in the shoulder, yardwork came to a screeching halt and that included simple things such as watering.  Dragging a hose about the yard would merely make the healing take longer so I quit.  The poor plants suffered a bit due to the drought but, somehow, they managed to still bloom.  I was out admiring those blooms this morning when I found that perhaps plants have a bit of quirkiness about them.  I figured that maybe they are just artistic.

  The Stoke's Asters were in full bloom but looked a mite odd.  These asters should have sort of long, slender leaves not spikey ones and they sure do not grow on a 4ft tall stalk!  Closer inspection revealed that the asters had grown long and lanky.  They were so heavy with blooms that their own stalks could not give the support needed so the blooms fell into the Madonna lilies.  Once leaning on that thick stalk, the blooms became entwined with the spikey leaves.  This made quite the stunning "plant".  I was impressed!

  To be honest, the gardens always impress me even when they are a bit messy and unkempt like mine are currently.  When the plants are allowed to grow "wild and free", they seem intent on providing surprises at each turn of the path.  Thankfully, I only have one more week of "light duty" before I am allowed back to my usual active pace.  I have missed it...maybe the plants have missed me, too, since they are having to find their own props!

Goodbye, Winter Garden!

   As well as the winter garden provided, it is time for a good bit of it to say goodbye.  I hate to part with my fresh veggies but the cauliflower, cabbages and broccoli have seen better days.  Most are spent and we are eating the new leaves that form after the head has been cut.  The mustard greens, peas and beets are still flourishing so they shall stay a bit longer.  It is time to make room for the summer garden.

  Most of today was spent harvesting and tearing out old plants.  First on the agenda was to pick the peas as they take the longest and I wanted to get the job done while it was still cool.  Otherwise, the gnats would have eaten me alive!  The rest of the morning was spent picking the other veggies.  The afternoon saw me ripping out the old, spent plants and digging rows for tomato and pepper seedlings from the greenhouse.  Tomorrow, rows will be made for squash, green beans and cucumbers.

  Several folks have pondered why I work so hard in the gardens.  Pricing the peas alone is a good enough answer for me.  At nigh on six dollars a pound my fifty pounds harvested make it worthwhile but it is more the fact that I can share with others.  Gardening makes me feel good physically and emotionally.  Sitting is not for me.

Friend Cardinal

  If you listen to others, there are signs all about us that heighten our spiritual awareness.  These things can be found in everything from a falling feather to an animal that comes to visit unexpectedly.  I am good with that.   There are signs that we should notice and heed.  Then, there are those that we should ignore.  I pick and choose which I want to bring meaning to the day.

  This morning while out working the vegetable garden, a bright red cardinal came to visit.  This normally skittish bird had no qualms of being within a few feet of me while I worked.  (When it came time for me to get the camera, the bird scooted up to a low hanging hickory branch and sat "hiding" behind twigs.)  As I planted yet more peas and put in a row of lettuce, the cardinal would flit from one fence to the next.  It was watching my every move and I soon became quite accustomed to hearing the flutter of wings just above my head.

  There are those that say a visiting cardinal is carrying a message from those from our past.  In times of trouble or illness, a male cardinal symbolizes hope for renewal and well-being.  Through all of the woes, we should be persistent.  As the cardinal kept its watch over me, I pondered the thoughts of signs and meanings.  Maybe this is one I should grasp.  Renewal and well-being would be a rather nice change of events for me.  I will take it.  I will take it.

Making Lemonade?

   The old saying "When life hands you a basket of lemons, make lemonade" holds true for my chores of the day.  After enduring the stifling "don't do that" woes for months, I was just about resigned to the idea of staying "Queen of the Small Gardens" for the rest of my days.  Then, a doctor visit and a hurricane visit changed that drastically.  Just days prior Hurricane Zeta slammed us, I received the "ok" to resume a somewhat normal schedule.  Life was good.  Wham!  Hurricane Zeta.  Life is hard.

  With the mountains of debris left behind when Zeta left, there was nothing else to do other than push up the shirt sleeves and get to work.  I found that if I sorted a section of debris, cleared out anything large and spread it thinly, I could use the lawnmower to cut it to a fine mulch.  Great!  With a burn ban initiated, the mulching helped to eliminate a good bit of debris.  At least now I had huge mounds of powdery fine mulch instead of unsightly mounds of rough debris!  Still...what do you do with about two tons (yes, that is what I have cut already) of mulch?  Well, you take those lemons and make lemonade!  

  I took a few days to clear the limbs and roofing from the vegetable plot and found that the cabbages still looked relatively in good shape.  A brilliant idea popped in the head (the second...the first being transforming a lawnmower into a mulch grinder)!  Use a good bit of that mulch in the garden!  So...28 loads in a wheelbarrow were pushed up the hill and into the garden area.  Using some of the salvaged planks, a pathway was laid out and the garden started receiving the mulch.  It worked perfectly in the garden and I started seeing the mounds growing smaller and smaller. 

  Now the idea of mulching all the pathways is starting to run around in the brain.  Clearing the gardens is my "playtime" after doing debris cleanup.  Moving the loads of mulch and seeing the progress is good for the morale.  We still have tons of trees down that need to be cut for firewood, a roof and windows to be replaced in one of the out buildings and the entire pier to be rebuilt but progress is progress no matter how slow.  A glass of lemonade sounds good right about now.  

Back To The Small Gardens

   Way deep in the dark forest that surrounds the depths of the Bayou, is a mystical, magical world that often goes unseen.  I wish I could tell you some incredible story that took place there today but that is not happenin', folks.  Instead, you will have to marvel at the mystical, magical world of the gardens.  A minor setback in the health kept me from venturing far from the place.  Son objects to me wandering off by myself if/when the body is catawampus.  So, I meandered the Small Gardens once again and was reminded of how I reigned as Queen here for several months.  This was my realm.  Today, it was once again.

  During the stroll, I did manage to find several interesting spots.  One was by far the most intriguing and could have very well been seen in that descriptive place in the opening sentence.   In the midst of a dead Black Gum Tree, I found a most beautiful (to me) cluster of shelf mushrooms that were bordered by some similarly colored clump mushrooms.  This seemed to be the perfect spot for the fungi to thrive.  It was damp, dark and secluded.  It could have been the unseen world that included gnomes, faeries and elves!  (Yeah, when feeling decrepit, the brain turns to a fantasyland to compensate.  Since long physical hikes are out of the question, I tend to travel in the mind.)

  In reality, the mushrooms were breaking down the dead wood.  They hasten the decay, then the nutrients go back into the soil to be reused by new plants. The stump of the dead Black Gum Tree has been at the edge of the gardens for some years. I never removed it as numerous birds used it as a feeding spot.  A plethora of insects tunnel in the rotted wood drawing the birds.  Now, it is the mushrooms turn to feed upon the old tree.  Life goes on in one form or another.

I'm Tired

   I'm tired.  I am just tired.  Ever since July and my crazy body deciding to go cattywampus on me, things have just not been right.  I am tired.  Just plain, old tired.  Even though every doctor told me that I could continue doing what I had prior, it just is not working out that way.  Perhaps they were not aware of just how much I do around here.  Most folks do not...and I guess I never really thought about it.  I just did.  Now, that is not happenin'.  I sort of overdid today by carrying 30 wet (treated) 2X6 planks from the top of the hill all the way to the end of the pier.  Yeah, it was stupid.  Yeah, it needed to be done.  Yeah, I did it.  Now, I am paying the price.  

  While on the pier earlier, I had to opportunity to just sit for a few moments and reflect on the past year.  It has been filled with far too many stressful situations.  This is not only on a worldwide level but a personal level as well.  I realized that when I am on that pier...before the sun rises...by myself, things seem to be a lot nicer.  Then, the world is peaceful.   I am peaceful. 

  I watched as Mark eased his way out from the pier in the little skiff.  Being still rather dark, he was steering the boat by memory of how the shoreline winds along from the Bayou.  It reminded me of Pop and his fishing days so many years ago.  The thought brought a smile.  Hopefully, tomorrow, being on the pier will ease the turmoil racking this old body tonight.  I sure need it.  I am just tired...too tired...bone tired.

If Crape Myrtles Can Do It, So Can I!

   I find it rather uplifting to know that a simple  stroll through the gardens can be healing.  Yes, the fresh air and exercise go a long way in making the body well but just being outdoors in a peaceful spot can heal the mind and spirit.  Today was not good.  It was not bad but still not good.  I felt lousy from the get-go but still felt as if I had chores to be done.  I have never been one to just be idle.  Lounging about the place actually makes me feel worse so I struggled to find the energy to tackle a few tasks.  Not only was my body lagging, my brain was awhirl with worries about family members.  It seems that the old Morton Salt advertisement holds true.  " When it rains, it pours." I figured that  perhaps doing something would take the mind off of many things.  

  Along about midday, thunder started grumbling just north of us.  I turned to see huge black clouds bearing down on the Bayou and figured I had best get myself back indoors.  Just as I reached for the back screen door, a flash of pink caught my eye.  Well, storm or not, I had to stop for a photo!  The crape myrtles were blooming again!  Those crazy bushes had already bloomed once this summer but were now popping out with all sorts of buds!  The hot pink frilly clusters were waving like banners with the hefty storm breezes.  "Look at us!  Don't go inside!  Look at us!"  I did.  I braved the lightning just to see something that I have seen a thousand times over.  By the time I started taking the photograph, a slight drizzle started falling.  

  Seeing the renewed buds along side of the spent seed pods gave me an odd feeling of renewal.  Regardless of my current condition, there is new hope on the horizon.  Somewhere out there with those storm clouds is my "get up and go' and my peace of mind.  The crape myrtles told me so.  

Welcome to Puddle Pond

  Four weeks....just four weeks ago, I was in the midst of creating Pebble Creek and renovating Puddle Pond.  These two features of the yard make use of the drains to capture water from the rooftop.  Instead of letting the runoff wash gullies in the yard, I dug a trench, laid in pond lining and filled it with gravel.  This I called Pebble Creek.  With the help of a pond pump located in Puddle Pond and a long hose running the length of the "creek" water is recycled to make it appear as if the creek is actually running.  Along about halfway, a small foot bridge crosses Pebble Creek and allows for passage into the Small Gardens.  Since falling on bad health just as I completed Pebble Creek, this area has become my new domain.  It is where I must do my healing and I am fully appreciative of the hard work that went in to creating my special place.  I had pushed myself to create the space so I figure that I have every right to call myself Queen of the Small Gardens.  It was my doing and now I shall take refuge here.  

  While basking in the sunshine this morning, I saw that the frogs and toads that visit the gardens nightly have been busy.  Hundreds upon hundreds of tiny tadpoles are in Puddle Pond.  This makes me happy as I know that the project can be considered a success if the critters feel at home in it.  Most folks would have dumped some fancy goldfish or tropical fish in the little pond but it suits me fine to have local critters here.  The frogs are just as adorable and they help out in the gardens by eating a lot of unwanted pests.

  Puddle Pond is a delightful place to watch my little tadpoles as they grow and change to froglets!  It is only about 18 inches deep so the clear waters allow me to view the babies with ease.  Ahh, a bit of hard work has paid off.  I feel rewarded.

So...This Happened!

  Things looked brighter at the Little Bayou House, today.  This was the first morning that I was not in pain, not weak and wobbly and not unduly agitated.  It appears that the medications that were prescribed were way too strong.  Instead of making me better, they were indeed making me worse.  I guess doctors never can truly tell just how a person's body will react to medications so it is up to us to inform them of unwanted changes.  This is not to say that the danger has passed but that, for now, things seem to be a lot better.  Even with that, my range of (solo) freedom is no further than the Small Gardens.  I do not mind as there is plenty there to occupy the time.  Between the kitchen and the Small Gardens, I piddle and try to make myself somewhat useful.  I think it is that feeling of being unproductive that is the trying factor in my case.  I hate being idle.

  After making two batches of cherry/cranberry jelly, I decided to bring Son a cooling glass of water. He was out working near the pier so this gave me a tiny escape!  I shall take any and all!  The trek down did tire me so there was no "work" in the garden.  Instead, I made myself "useful".   A treat for when Son completed his rebuilding task was just the thing to make me feel better!

  Two days ago, I baked chocolate/buttermilk brownies and there was still a half of pan left.  Hmm...if I wanted to make a new treat, something needed to be done with those.  Wasting food is a no go in this house!  So....a new treat was made WITH the leftover brownies.  I just happened to have everything on hand to make trifle!  

  Trifle is a favorite around here simply because it is a cold, tasty treat.  It is always made in individual sized servings, covered with plastic wrap and kept in the refrigerator.  When working in this heat, it is always nice to have something cooling on hand as a snack.  If that something contains chocolate brownies, vanilla custard, cherries and whipped cream, it is all the better!  Son and I both enjoyed our mid-afternoon treat!

All About Me

  In this old world, it seems as if everyone has the opinion that life is "all about me".  They want everything handed to them, get mad if others have different opinions and contrive to make their own ways appear noble.  There is no way to deal with this type so I have given up trying.  Now, I am "all about me".  Not that I give one iota about what others think because my realm is in my own backyard.  I have dubbed myself Queen of the Small Gardens as that is where my life is for a bit longer.  Since I have no visitors, since I am doing that social distancing at its best and since I have to answer to no human save myself, I am perfectly blissful in my realm.  I AM Queen and I have the crown to prove it!

  Recently, I have taken to pushing the thought of happiness as a diversion to all of the "gimme" crowds. Life is too short to spend it listening to whiners.  Be happy!  Happiness comes from within yourself not from trying to force others to see things your way.  But, back to that Queen of the Small Gardens thing.  It is my way of making the best of a vastly different life than what I am accustomed to living.  When life hands you lemons, you make lemonade!  That old saying is perfect, to my way of thinking.  So...I made lemonade by way of becoming Queen.  The whimsical thought of me being the sole ruler of a mere small garden tickled me and gave me reason.  As Queen, I have to keep up appearances.  I have to prove to my subjects that I am worthy of the position.  I have to strive.  I need that.  I need reason.  It is working.  As Queen of the Small Gardens, my subjects are imaginary and my duties are to conjure up tales of fantasy.  It is a healing process.  Life is good.

Gimme Breakfast!

  Since my early mornings are limited to the garden area until I get the ok to venture further, I have discovered a whole new pastime.  I watch who comes to the bird feeder.  The feeder is not actually your normal, cutesy bought feeder but an overturned glass tabletop set atop of an old wicker end table.  It works, in a fashion, and the birds do not seem to mind.  They only fret over the quantity of seed and the pillaging squirrels.  In fact, the birds will start to call if I am ten minutes late in filling the tray.  

  One of the earliest visitors is a male red-winged blackbird.  This handsome fellow will perch himself on a fence post or a low branch and screech until the seed is poured.  If I do not move quickly enough, he gives me a good fussing.  I am assuming this is the new "boss" of the blackbird world as the others will linger on their branches until he has eaten his fill.  Then, they come to dine. 

  This is not the Old General that has been here for years.  This is the New General.  The change of command took place this spring.  I was truly sorry to see that my old friend was no longer with us as he and I became quite close friends.  The bird was rather tame and, as a commander, was always fair.  The New General is still a bit leery and is ruling with severity.   Perhaps he will mellow once the others cede to his powers but, for now, he still has to declare his leadership occasionally.  There have been a few spats among the birds for territory but, as it always does, it will work out to be satisfactory on all parts.  For now, I shall be happy with having him as my first morning visitor.

Taking The Time

  I have not posted in a few days so please forgive me if you were a daily reader.  Things sort of got in the way.  Hopefully, there will be no lingering effects and I can be back for good.  There was also a lack of photographs during this lapse so we shall start anew on that, as well.  My hikes around the hillside and to the pier have been nixed and I am now confined to the small garden area unless I am "escorted" by Mark or Son.  This does put a damper on things as "sneaking" up on the critters to get the "perfect shot" is no longer an option.  My photography has now turned to basically "still lifes".   The flowers of the garden will have to suffice.

  This morning as I was sitting on my new "throne", also known as the front steps, the poor little potted Althea bush almost cried out to me to help it escape the strangling arms of the Jasmine vines.  In the few days that I have been absent from the garden, the Jasmine has decided to branch out in wild abandon.  That abandonment included the poor Althea.  The small shrub was loaded with fine, purple blooms but had the choking vines wrapped about it in a tangled mess.  

  I promised the little shrub that I would try to convince Son to either move it or at least give the Jasmine a good trimming....probably both.  There is so much that needs to be done but no energy to do much.  Time...yep, time...things take time.

Regimen for Good Health

  With the cooler weather starting to make its appearance here on the Bayou, we have to take advantage of the sunshine when it is here.  That old adage about "Making hay while the sun shines" makes good sense.  While I avoid that same bright sun during the summer months, I cherish every ounce of it during the winter.  While out preparing the gardens for their winter crops, it sure feels good to peel off that outer sweatshirt and work in nothing more than a T-shirt.  What makes it doubly delightful is that usually the gnats have already decided enough is enough and they are not swarming around me.  Here lately, I have noticed that the old dog enjoys his moments in the sun.  He basks in the sunshine while on the pier but, also, craves any spot where the beams come through the windows of the Little Bayou House.  I have taken to leaving our heavy wooden door open so the sun pours through the screen door.  Moving his bed to the doorway assures he is comfy and warm.  He also has the bird's eye view of what is happening out in the yard.  

  I figure that the old dog is about in the same boat as me.  Arthritis kicks in and kicks butt with the change of weather.  I have learned to deal with it by taking an extra dose of Bayou Fire but the old dog probably should not follow suit.  I am not sure that the fiery homemade remedy would agree with the dog or even if the dog would agree with the potion.  We will leave that out of his daily regimen.  What has been added is a good bit of exercise and fresh air.  This seems to be agreeing with him as he looks forward to our thrice daily hikes and has even taken to letting me know when it is time.  At exactly 6am, noon and 4pm, he follows me about the house until I agree to head outside.  Mr. PJ will now scamper down the very same steps that used to cause him trouble.  His pace has picked up to a full trot for the whole of the hike.  After a good thirty minutes or so, he is ready to take a snooze on the pier in the warm sunshine before we head back to the house.  I have to admit that his regimen is good for me as well.  After losing Ms. Ez, the old Bayou Dog, having PJ to join me on a hike has been good medicine.  We do well together...this old dog and I!

I Need to be Untangled

  Since the grandlittles are coming to the Little Bayou House for Christmas this year, I have been trying to make the place festive.  It is slow going.  The old body does not want to cooperate here lately.  Just today, I took a tumble which is a tad strange for me.  I slipped and fell flat on my back in the kitchen.  I still do not know how I managed that. Falling is something new to me and it makes me wonder if it is related to all of the other nagging problems that I have had in the past few months. I do know one thing......it is NOT FUN!  Tonight, I am sore and stiff and bruised.  I can only imagine what tomorrow will bring.  

  While pulling out decorations today to put in my "Santa's Workshop" playroom, I came across a small marionette that my kids used to play with years ago.  Of course, the strings were all tangled and poor old Santa puppet did not want to work right.  As I untwisted strings, an arm would shoot up above his head.  Another pull and a leg would swing out behind him.  Santa's body must be giving him trouble just like mine is giving me.  After about ten minutes of untangling the mess, the marionette hung nicely and actually moved correctly.  Now, he awaits the grandlittles.  They can make him dance and sing with ease...or at least attempt it.  Since they are both very young, poor old Santa may be taking a few slips and falls, too. 

   That thought got me to thinking of how we are all sort of like some marionette.  As long as we keep our "strings" untangled and watch ourselves, all is well.  Let one snafu show up in our health and it seems that everything is off kilter.  Perhaps that is what has happened to me...my strings are tangled or maybe even broken.

  

Health Check!

  Taking care of oneself is highly important.  Eating right, exercising and getting a lot of fresh air really helps to build up that immune system! These three things will keep the weight in check and just all around make one feel better.  It is also important to keep a constant check on your vital signs.  Occasionally having the blood pressure, temperature and heart rate checked can warn of any illness sneaking up from behind to grab ahold to an unsuspecting person.  We all know this but not all of us do so well at keeping ourselves healthy.  Personally, I am determined to do all I can to improve my well-being.  I figure to be happy, I must first be healthy.  

  Obviously, this health awareness does not apply to animals.  The critter world is often criticized as being in the dark about their physical health. They just don't seem to get it!  Most animals live day by day and never have any intentions of doing any health checks.  Not so at the Little Bayou House at the moment.  Only health conscientious critters live here! Take little Miss Salem, the foster kitten, for instance.  The little squirt bounds about the house getting plenty of exercise!  Last night she was doing one of her "bounce and pounce" games.  She would race through the living room, bound up the sofa, run across my keyboard and then attack Ms. Ez, the Bayou Dog.  On one of these dashes, she plopped down on the ottoman by my feet.  She immediately picked up the thermometer and started taking her temperature.  This was one of those automated thermometers that voices the temperature at the end of a minute.  I was tickled by the kitten holding the thermometer in her mouth. She did so calmly enough that the thermometer read out 98.7 degrees Fahrenheit. I researched what a kitten's temperature is supposed to be and found that anywhere from 96 degrees to 100 degrees is normal.  Yep, this squirt of a kitten is right normal!  With that, she leapt of the ottoman and raced across the back of the sofa to attack the dog once again!

  Normally, I would never let the cat chew on the thermometer but, to be honest, she was not chewing, just holding.  Plus, this is one that I was getting ready to toss anyway.  She was just so cute and proved that critters do health checks!  This is one smart cookie!  Little Miss Salem, you keep doing your exercises, do not overeat and keep check on those vital signs!  We definitely want you to be hale and hearty!