Hope Returns

   Early this morning after a drizzly rain, I slipped out into the small gardens to see if any of my newly planted seeds had sprouted.  I am late getting the plots ready since I am on "light duty" for the rest of this year.  No digging means no rows which, in turn, means no gardens. Still, where there's a will...there is usually a way so I did the next best thing of planting without well turned soil.  Armed with a trowel and a small hand rake, I planted.  Now we shall wait and see if the feeble efforts turn into something durable.  

  The garden, however, was not the highlight of my early morning traipsing.  Again, that light duty is also tied tightly with limits as to where I can go unaccompanied.  The pier (also known as "my favorite sunrise place") is definitely out of my realm but that does not mean that I cannot edge my way to the clearing where I can view the length of the path and pier.  I did and I saw an old friend just waiting at this end of where the pier starts.  A Great White Egret was resting while watching the mudflats for anything she could have for breakfast.  This is a bird that I named "Hope" several years ago when the whole country was in the midst of the COVID scare.  That was the same time that I had a stroke and was bound to the Small Gardens for the duration of my recovery.  (Much the same as now but for different reasons.)  Hope and I got to know each other rather well since I was deemed a "non-threat".  She would come to visit each day and we would while away an hour or so just being together.  Neither of us made much effort to "tame" the other but it was like we had an understanding.  Now...she is back.

  Hope looked a little worse for wear after the stormy weather of the past few days. Her feathers were ruffled and she looked tired...much like me.  I am not sure the bird recognized me after my absence but there was no forgetting her.  She helped me before and I almost got the feeling she understood my plight once again as she came a bit closer to where I was sitting.  There, we visited...me on the upturned old boat on shore while she stopped about twenty feet from me.  We stayed...I talked...she listened and watched for bull minnows in the marsh.  Good friends are like that.  Good friends just care.

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.

The Queen Is Back

  Being somewhat limited in my actions, once again, has made me pull out that crown and dub myself as "Queen of the Small Gardens".  This is not by my choice but rather one made by those who care about me.  "You have to stop doing everything and let your body heal."  These are orders given by those who have more sense than I do apparently.  I fully admit to doing things that an "old lady" should not be doing but...putting a roof on the lean-to seems like a simple thing.  So does pushing a lawnmower for four hours or bailing out the tiny Frog Ponds.  I just do not like asking for help for things that I can do for myself.  That said...I have had to ask.  I have had to stop.  I have a year to be lazy....lazy hurts...bad.  I have always felt much better being active even if it was overactive.  That said, my whole Queen of the Small Gardens is even a bit on the downside as I am not allowed to work the gardens to my satisfaction.  Lazy...I have to be lazy.  Oh, did I mention that lazy hurts?  It does.

  So...since my gardening work has come nigh on to a halt, the gardens decided to take things in hand.  It saddened me to see the empty rows, the barren flower beds and the weedy raised boxes but...this fretting was all for naught.  The gardens planted themselves!  Perhaps, these are not the plants that would have been so tediously tended but they are gorgeous and I am appreciative.  Mother Nature knew I needed a boost so she sprinkled wildflower seeds everywhere!  (Some folks would argue that my wildflower beds are nothing more than unkempt weed patches but, to me at the moment, they are lovely!)

         

  Some of the prettiest "gardens" are beneath the potted fig trees. These are trees that I rooted back couple of years ago and just never had the opportunity to transplant them into the yard. So...they are still in pots.  BUT!  Underneath those fig trees are lovelies!  Wood Sorrel or Oxalis plants are thriving!  Each morning, I am greeted with hundreds of pinkish blooms! The blooms are said to symbolize joy and renewal.  Both seem appropriate simply for the feeling I get each day just by seeing the delicate flowers and that my body is trying to do a bit of rebuilding.  The heart shaped leaves are said to bring good luck and heart health....both which are always needed.  I am taking my lovely "Fig Tree Gardens" as a sign that this year of healing is going to bring me back to where I need to be.  But, for now, I shall be the lazy (but aching) Queen whose realm is going to have to fend for itself for the duration.  

Happy Vines

  Sometimes, it seems as if we do things in vain.  Our hard work accomplished nothing...nothing at all.  Earlier this spring (and summer), I was on a mission to get the place looking better.  My year off due to health issues really dealt a blow to the Little Bayou House and the yard.  It was high time to get that ship back in shape! So, I was working like a whirlwind...until that big blow came and knocked me off my feet again.  Health is one of those funny things that can pop one way or another at a second's notice.  My work came to a grinding halt until the malady worked its way to oblivion.  After an entire month of nothingness, I am finally beginning to return to my old self.  Work is, once again, getting accomplished.

  Back in June, I had trimmed back a good bit of the smilax vines that take over the hillside if given their way.  Once you let them get away with that inch, they take the proverbial mile overnight.  So, I trimmed.  With things neatly done, I moved on with the satisfaction that the chore would be much easier from that point onward.  Then, that break came into play and the vines bounced back with a vengeance!  Smilax usually blooms early spring and then produces the berries that ripen late fall.  Thinking I did a smart thing by trimming off the blooms, I was hopeful that not nearly as many berries (seeds) would be produced.  Duh...I think trimming the vines just made them bloom more!  Today's walk made me realize that if I wanted the prolific growing vines to remain contained, I was going to have to trim them constantly.  It did not happen.  Vines everywhere.  Vines in bloom again.  Vines happy.  Me...not so much.

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.  

Ms. Toady and the Old King

  One good thing that has come from my being confined to the outdoor space of the Small Gardens.  It has made me aware of all the special things that are often hidden in plain sight.  In just the past four weeks of my realm being greatly diminished from the entire eight acres to a mere garden plot, I have discovered many interesting things.  Perhaps it is more the idea that I am appreciating things that I overlooked.  Small things are now stupendous.  There is not a day that goes by that I am not spellbound by an otherwise "normal" thing.

  Today, I found a toad.  While that may not seem to be earthshaking to others, the toad kept me fully entertained for nigh on a half hour.  Some may find that a tad ridiculous but, since my time is plentiful, the half hour was well spent.  I pondered the life of a toad...this toad...Ms. Toady.  The critter lives in the roots of an old oak tree that stands just outside the pergola that surrounds the french doors.  The tree is dying so many of its large roots are hollow.  In fact, the entire tree is hollow which makes for perfect dwelling places for so many critters.  The toad shares its root "cave" with a lovely old skink.  The skink was, at one time, the "King Skink" but he has been ousted by an upstart.  So, the toad very kindly let the Old King share her abode.  The two get along divinely and seem to have a great working partnership.  The toad, being younger, ventures further to hunt for prey allowing the Old King to stay near the doorway to their root home.  Also, the toad is active at night and wishes to settle in for rest during the heat of the day.  The skink is diurnal so vacates the root except when an escape is necessary.  It seems to be a win/win situation for the pair.

  Early this morning, I sat on the little foot bridge crossing the Pebble Creek.  The creek empties into the Puddle Pond with a delightful sound of water dripping over the ledge.  As I sat there enjoying life, I noticed the toad hippity-hopping from the Pebble Creek.  She was heading back to the root home for the day.  I thought of how her night had been busy catching the night bugs..many of which linger around the gardens.  Her belly was fat so pickings must have been good.  It gave me a sense of satisfaction knowing that the little toad was well fed and had a cool place to spend the heat of the day.  She and the Old King have an unusual friendship but it works.  I wish them both well.

My New Job

  Rather than a new job, I should say that an existing job has veered into a different direction.  The old dog that is in my care is really showing his age lately.  I was advised at the last visit with veterinarian that this was to come but I was still not ready.  Do you ever get ready for things like this?  Mr. PJ started showing signs that things were "just not right" about a week ago.  First, he did something that was so out of character that even he was shocked.  His bladder let loose in the house.   Not just a dribble but full blown peeing everywhere.  Poor old fellow was humiliated to say the least.  That set in motion a new routine.  Now as soon as he gets up, he goes outside.  Usually, that was done after he ate.  This is working as far as the bladder situation goes but a new problem arose that needed tending.

  For the past two days, my sweet old friend has lost a good bit of strength and most of the control of his hind legs.  He has good intentions of standing, walking and typically being what he used to be but it does not happen.  Good news...he does not appear to be in pain.  He is in good spirits, eating well and, other than the accidents, has regular "waste disposal" functions.  My new job is to help him continue with his daily routines.  I help him walk.

  Carrying a 60lb dog is not an easy task for someone my age so a bit of ingenuity came into play.  For now, an old bath towel is folded in half lengthwise and passed under Mr. PJ's belly.  The two ends of the towel are held in one hand above his back.  This way, I can gently lift his body while he "pedals" along with the front legs.  It works well with little stress on him...or me.  It took a little while for him to get the idea that I was helping but once he did, he accepted my efforts.  If his condition does not improve, the plan is to sew a "hoisting cloth" with handles so the process will be easier.  

  There are those who would rather just "put him down"...there are those who have to give unneeded advice...there are those who find it ridiculous that I am putting this much effort into helping a dog..but as long as he and I can work this out decently, we will work through it.  I am not letting a friend in need down because I am too lazy to deal with his needs.  Mr. PJ deserves my help and will get it until it is not needed.  It is hard.  It is time consuming.  I become frustrated.  He becomes frustrated.  But, we will do the best we can...together.