Learning...Always Learning

   For as long as I can remember, I have wandered the woods, creek beds, bogs and marshes in search of new plants and critters.  This interest in what Mother Nature provides was instilled in me by my granddad.  Being the youngest of a brood of five, it is possible that my folks needed a break so I got to spend lots of time with my grandparents.  It delighted me so all was good.  Granddad always had some "lesson" to teach me and those stuck...most of the time.  Still, I find that some of the names of plants may have been just local lore and not the true name.  For the bulk of my life, those names have stuck and probably will always be there.  I do, however, find it interesting to learn the actual name and a bit more about what I find.

  After a pea-soup thick foggy morning, the day unfolded to be bright and sunshiny.  The bluest of blue skies literally glowed after the winter greys.  This meant that my afternoon hike gave new light to a lot of things.  Down behind the canebrake, my path took a sharp left and then an equally sharp right to the creek bed.  There I was greeted by a cluster of small trees with lovely white blooms. The small trees twisted their ways through the palmettos to reach the sunlight making photographing a tad difficult.  Still, I was determined.

  Growing up, I was taught that this was "Knotweed" blooms.  When you are with your grandpa and he tells you something...you listen.  So, Knotweed Tree has been the name for all of these many (many) years.  Now, I find that Granddad may have been using a local name and not the "real deal".  Recently, I was shown an article that described the tree and called it Buckwheat Tree.  Sure enough, those pictures did look a lot like my photographs!  So, I am assuming that I should try to remember the "new" name.  It will be hard to "relearn" something after so many years but that is a part of life and learning is a good thing.  Never stop!  Buckwheat Tree!  Buckwheat Tree is named after the buckwheat plant from which we get buckwheat seed and, guess what...it is in the knotweed family!  Sort of ties things all in together...Knotweed Tree aka Buckwheat Tree.  Maybe not...maybe just me.  Maybe Granddad knew this.  I like to think he did, anyway.

Not a fun find.

   So the dreary days carry on and I am about as dismal as they come.  While I love a good rainy day, there is too much to be done to be confined indoors.  The gardens are becoming overgrown, the oak leaves are falling in mounds and the garden paths are being washed away by the torrential rains.  I do not need to be stuck indoors while letting the place run amok.

  At one point, I could stand it no longer so I slipped out the back door.  A drizzly rain still fell but I was bound and determined to be outside.  Since working in the Small Gardens was a bad idea, I headed to the woods.  There, the tree canopy would offer some protection...not much...but some.  The ground was soggy causing the footsteps to be muffled.  I am quite sure if Bat, the cat, had not been tagging along with me, my other critter friends would have been freer with their visits.  He has a way of putting a damper on my critter communications...we will have to work on that.  Instead of critter finds, I found something I wish I could have avoided.  Some rather large stinkhorns had popped up right next to the path.  These things were huge at about six inches tall and over an inch in diameter.  This was the first time I have ever noticed this type of stinkhorn and with its proximity to rotting hurricane debris, I had to wonder if perhaps this, too, washed in on the tide.  To be honest, I could have done without finding the stinkhorns.  They are not a favorite for obvious reasons.  Shortly after finding the fungi, Bat, the cat, thought it would be great fun to attack them.  Thus ended my escape.  It was time for a cat bath...not fun, either. 

All is Well

   How the Little Bayou House is situated, it is backed by a rather shabbily wooded area.  By shabbily, I am referring to the fact that the trees have been hurricane ravaged so much in the past years that there are mostly low-growing shrubs with very few tall "canopy" trees.  Probably on the whole of the back five acres, there may be a good fifty full sized trees.  The rest are thick bushes that only reach maybe twenty feet in height.  Through the midst of this, the tiny creek flows until it spills into the back part of the Bayou.  I leave the area wild and woolly simply to provide some shelter for the critters.  With everything around us sold and being developed, this is the only place where the critters can live free and happy.  I am good with it. There also is a lovely canebrake between the wooded area and the house.  This canebrake also provides shelter for critters.  You never know what you might find in there!

  With the woods and the canebrake being on the north side of the Little Bayou House, it is a welcome shelter for us, as well.  The dense growth of both shields us from the bitter north wind during winter.  It is there, that I can meander about without being chilled to the bone.  It is, also, there that I find my critter friends doing the same.  A good many will hunker down in the thickets to be protected from the icy winds.  

  It was on the hike this morning that I found the male Northern Cardinal in the canebrake.  His lovely wife was tucked in the midst of the brake but he was keeping watch from the edge.  Their soft chirps to each other called my attention to the male.  As I eased my way near the cane, the chirps took on a different tone as he told her to sit tight for possible danger approaches.  He never wavered from his post even though my path went directly below him.  Once he realized that I was not there to do harm, his chirps reverted back to the calming, soft whispers.  "It is all ok.  Stay put.  She will not hurt us.  All is well."  His ladylove stayed snug in her sheltered spot and he continued his watch just as I continued my way down the path. 

  I am glad the birds and other critters have a "safe place" from all of the craziness of this old world.  I am also glad that they realize I am a friend and not a predator.  The Little Bayou Kingdom is safe and sound.  All is well.

Tiny Orb of Sap

   When out meandering about the place, I am always on the lookout for anything that has changed since the last hike.  With life as it is, entertainment has to be found in oddities instead of people.  I am good with that as I have long avoided much social contact.  I do not see the need for all the drama that comes with interaction with society.  I prefer to live my life with limited access to the "outside" world.  Occasionally, however, the need for new ideas makes me long for some sort of entertainment.   That is when I search the place for any oddity that can fill the imagination.

  Yesterday after finishing my chores, I trudged through the mud near the marsh edge.  Surely. my brain would be jostled enough by something besides mud!  Just as I was thinking mud was to be the high point of the hike, the sunrays hit upon a tiny speck on the pathway.  A spark of brilliant blue was to be seen on a gnarled root.  Hmmm...that was a bit interesting so, regardless of the knees of my jeans getting wet and muddy, I dropped down to inspect the tiny blue orb.

  Resin!  Or as we call it, pine gum.  Hurricane Zeta had obviously scraped a pine root bare and marred it enough to cause the pine sap to rise in a tiny ball.  This gum was now hardened on the outside creating the perfectly clear (although yellow as it was only blue by reflecting the sky) orb.  The sunrays were hitting it in the right position to allow me to see the reflection of the bright blue sky and surrounding oak tree tops in the orb's surface.  Ok, so that was fascinating!  

  The finding of the pine gum brought the brain around into a circle of things from how to remove the sticky stuff from clothing to needing to make some salve.  The salve is more important than fretting over a smear on the jeans so now the brain is in high gear of remembering the concoction...pine gum, oil, beeswax...hmmm...time to do some pondering and some searching for pine gum. I will need a good bit more than that tiny orb! Setting and keeping goals are good entertainment...at least for me.

Some Things Are Never Explained

   Now that I am regaining the freedom to roam the Bayou and surrounding areas, I had to go back and check the creek bed.  I have missed the magic of the swamp.  The critters, the mosses, the huge palmettos and tangle of vines makes the creek bed an enchanting spot.  One fully expects some mystical creatures to be lurking in the shadows.  A fleeting glimpse of something hastily moving across the sun-dappled ground or the soft whispers of wings in the treetops add to the feeling that you are not alone.  This, my friends, is a favorite spot.  One where the imagination is free to roam where it may and where it is not hindered by the naysayers of the world.

  While I was crossing the small creek, I noticed one moss-covered stump that seemed to be ancient.  A tree had obviously been cut here, at some time.  This, I found strange as not one tree this far in the creek has ever been felled by saws since I came to live on the Bayou.  Plenty have fallen due to hurricanes but no one has ever cut a tree in probably some fifty or sixty years and, yet, the stump remains intact.   I pondered the age of the tree remains and who had felled it.  Years and years ago, Pop had told me of a sawmill business that had been on this land before Grandpa purchased it.  That was nigh on a hundred years ago.  Could this stump have lasted that long?  Surely not but...if not, who had cut the tree?  And why cut one in the creek if not for such a thing as a sawmill?  This will most likely remain as one of the mysteries of the Bayou. For now, however, I will just be pleased with my find of yet another mossy area.

A Bright Yellow Day

   When folks hear that I live on the Bayou, they often have ideas that I conjure up all sorts of weird potions, fill the Little Bayou House with oddities and have knowledge of all sorts of things crammed in my brain.  Well, two out of three ain't bad, right?  I do, indeed, conjure up a lot of "potions" but mostly they are herbal tisanes and not of the magical sort (maybe).  The Little Bayou House is home to thousands upon thousands of "treasures" as I have been dubbed the "Keeper of Weird and Wonderful Things".  That knowledge of all sorts of things is more like an inkling of a vast sort of things and, probably, nothing of importance.  The information is still crammed into the nooks and crannies of the brain along with spiderwebs and the smell of old books.  Occasionally, that information will spill out at the right time and that makes it appear that I am an swamp sage.   Most of the time, however, the tidbits are trivial and have no bearing on current situations.

  Just this morning as I was making my rounds about the place, a tiny morsel of information slipped out of its hiding spot and spilled into the spotlight.  Aha!  That is "Witch's Butter"!  Hmmm...where did that come from??  I pondered a bit and another name came to mind for the mushroom or fungus which I was trying to identify.  Yellow Brain Fungus...I am not even sure where I learned that!  

  The fungus is actually a parasite to the wood decaying fungi that helps to rot fallen limbs.  It is a jelly fungus that is soft to touch but is most notable for its bright yellow hue.  That is what immediately caught my eye!  Yellow on a gray day is most welcome.  The second thing that caught my eye was that, at the angle I was taking a photograph, one blob bore a great resemblance to a tiny, yellow bird.  That set me off on a different search as the Prothonotary Warblers should be flitting about the creek bed, too!  

  I did find my bird!  If there is one thing that I have noticed about these birds, they seem to like people.  They have no problem dancing about the grass or flitting among the branches just a few feet from a hiker.  Prothonotary Warblers love to find spiders and other insects but will eat berries if a live meal cannot be found.  I sometimes see them in the marsh but, more often, they are down in the thickets of the creek bed.  

  So, all in all, this turned into a very yellow day.  The brightness of the bird and even the fungus did wonders for my mood that had turned into a blah mess with all of the gray days as of late.  

Rockin' It!

   I tend to find all things of nature a source of interest.  It boggles the mind how many different aspects of life can be found on a hike about the place.  The physical and emotional aspects are in perfect harmony when there is time to really delve into the inner peace.  Being by oneself is a great way to throw off the distractions that plague us.  Life starts to come into focus and the mind is free to wander.  Then the spiritual aspect can blossom and grow.  Once free of the idea that we "need" to or "have" to do anything other than what is good for us, life begins to be much easier and we can really begin to "see" what has been around us at all times.  Aloneness is good for the soul.

  Yesterday, I found yet another rock that fascinated me to the point that I pocketed it for future inspection.  I am not one that is up on geology so a rock is just a rock..  Some are prettier than others and some are purely more interesting.   After all was said and done, some fine folks identified my stone as a river agate.  That made me happy.  It was nice to know that my stone had a name!  

  This brings up something that has always confused me a bit.  When does a rock become a stone or is it the other way around?  Growing up on the farm, a rock was a rock was a rock.  Stone was a nicer way of saying rock. As a kid, if I wanted to sound knowledgeable, I said stone!  That impressed people, I am sure!  Now, I ponder these things.  Think about it for a moment.  You have pebbles, stones, rocks and boulders.  Are they all the same thing?  I looked it up in the dictionary and, as near as I can tell, it is all about size.  A pebble is smaller than a stone which is smaller than a rock.  And then you have boulders which roll down the mountain and do major damage if they hit something. We do not have boulders here on the Bayou obviously because we have no mountains.  Basically, they are all rocks. We will go with that.

It has to be done...

   There is something to be said about old things and old people.  We both have a lot to teach others if they would only listen before it is too late.  Time is of the essence.  There are only so many days that we can teach those who are to follow after us and, to be honest, most do not wish to learn what is offered.  Sadly, with time growing short, the knowledge will die without ever being  passed along.  Not that I have much to offer and it does seem to be moot point to be blathering on about it, but one can only wish that the wisdom that comes with age is not wasted.  

  I was pondering that point as I meandered about the pathways behind the canebrake.  Time is of the essence...why am I so adamant about passing along what I have learned from the critters and about the plants of the Bayou?  Who cares?  Not many.  Then, I came across a sprawling tree that for years when identified by the wrong name.  Once I learned of the correct name, I was elated.  I was also elated to find that the blooms are sought after by honeybees.  From that point forward, I was bound and determined to leave every Swamp Cyrilla that I find.  They shall grow wild and free and be a draw for the bees,  In this day and time with folks dousing everything with chemicals, the bees are suffering.  If the Swamp Cyrilla can help, then I am happy to have the trees.  Today, the tree was loaded with long strands of seeds.  These seeds told me that the bees had, indeed, visited.  Now, perhaps the seeds will sprout to make more trees and that circle of life can continue for the bees.

  It is small things like this that need to be taught to those who will take over our spots on this old earth.  It is not for those "ancient ones" like me who have limited time but for those yet to come.  These are tidbits of information that should get passed along before it is too late.  It has to be done.  Yet, the "teacher" has no "students">

27.000 Teeth!

   I am finally free to hike as I wish other than back too far in the creek.  That is still off limits but only due to the sogginess of the ground. The nightly rains have dumped enough water to fill the creek and let it spill over into the woods.  Not wanting to become mired, I stick to higher ground and nose around in just about any nook and cranny I can find.  This afternoon, I flipped over a rotted log and found...nothing...except a slug.  A lone leopard slug was happily munching on some mold that was growing on dead leaves.  I watched the critter for a while and then lightly replaced the log.  There was no sense in bothering the poor little guy.

  Now for a fun fact!  Slugs very rarely (if ever) bite!  They just sort of slime along when threatened.  That slime is enough to deter most predators so they pretty much live in peace.  But!  Did you know that slugs have teeth?  They do!  In fact, a common slug has about 27,000 teeth!  The teeth are lined up in a fashion that makes them look and act a lot more like a cheese grater than fangs.  To be able to digest the whole assortment (of everything) that it eats, the slug has to have some way of helping it decompose.  Chewing is not a strong point of a slug so it sort of "grates" its food through a series of rows of teeth.  

  Having that many teeth could, indeed, make a slug a ferocious predator.  While there are some that will eat insects, worms and even other slugs, most are content to munch a few leaves, some fungi or your lovely lilies.  We had better be glad that they are just slimy critters that would rather hide than attack.  Just imagine how scary it would be to have car sized slugs with 27,000 teeth!

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!

Finding a friend along the path!

  Son took the time today to take me for a short hike about the hillside.  We did not go far but it was exhilarating for me to leave the confines of the small garden area.  As we walked, he and I talked of many things.  He allowed me to take all the time I wanted to explore the path that I have walked so many times before.  In just the ten days of my confinement, so many things have changed.  I wanted to see every, little thing!  Along the way, I spotted a box turtle making her way to the marsh edge.  We interrupted her journey for a few moments so I could photograph her and then Son squatted down to pet her.  Animals have this thing about him.  There seems to be a connection where they know he will never harm them.  I was touched to see the interaction and to hear him state that he was glad that I taught him to respect all nature but to fear none.  Dear, old mom is proud!

  Box turtles are interesting critters.  Most folks do not know that they can easily learn who will feed them and they will return whenever they wish to eat.  Son hand feeds several of the critters and they all seem to take special care never to bite him.

Some interesting facts about box turtles.

Box turtles have a domed carapace or upper shell.  Their lower shell or plastron is hinged so the box turtle can literally close like a box for protection.

Males are larger than females.  Males have red eyes whereas females have yellowish brown eyes.

Box turtles are diurnal meaning they are active during the day.  They are more prone to be out during the early morning hours or after a rain.

Box turtles will burrow under mulch or mud to escape the heat of the day.

Box turtles will eat just about anything they can find. They are omnivores meaning they eat both plants and other animals.  (Think worms, caterpillars, frogs and insects or anything else.)

If a box turtle falls on its back and cannot right itself, it will die.

The female box turtle buries her eggs.  She digs a hole and deposits 3 to 8 eggs.  The eggs hatch quicker in the south (around 70 days) than in the north (around 120 days).

Most baby box turtles fall prey to raccoons, fox, snakes, birds and other predators.  Only a few ever make it to maturity.

Box turtles can theoretically live to 100 years of age but most die before the age of 30.

A box turtle usually lives its entire life in a territory with a diameter of about 750 feet.  

  So, now you know a bit about our sweet box turtle friends.  They are rather neat critters and are actually a big help in the garden as they do eat a lot of pests.  An occasional tomato is a small price to pay.  

Bewitching Aroma!

  While Son and I were out and about this afternoon, a strong southeast wind was cooling the air.  On that breeze, there was one of the sweetest scents.  It slightly smelled of peaches no...maybe bananas.  I thought the tea olives were blooming because those blooms have a slight peachy smell.  They were but Son pointed out that the wind was in the wrong direction.  So, I searched.  Following the scent, I headed down to the marsh edge.  Nothing blooming there.  I headed eastward around the path.  Nope, no blooms.  Still, that sweet scent lingered heavily on the breeze.  

  Since I was this far into a hike, there was no turning back.  The path took me down behind the canebrake, through the old peach orchard and far down into the woods almost to the creek bed.  It is always a happy time to be tromping about the woods and a few blooms did surprise me.  First, what I have tentatively identified as sweetspire could be found draping down along the path.  The long, spires of creamy white were beautiful but did not have the fruity aroma of the mystery plant.  Then, I spied what we have always called mimosa or pink silk tree.  The pink, fluffballs are actually albizia and grow wild throughout the woods.  They do have a lovely scent but it is not the one that bewitched me earlier.  

  The mystery scent still eludes me.  Perhaps tomorrow, I will search again. It bugs me when there is something new on the Bayou and I cannot find it to identify it.  

*The white blooms are NOT sweetspire but Swamp Cyrilla!  

A Feral Cat, Tea Olives and the Bayou Princess

  This morning's hike was a quick one as I heard Ms. Nycto, the Bayou Princess Cat, howling like no one's business.  That meant only one thing...another cat was in the yard.  While Ms. Nycto may look huge and may have a loud howl, that is about the extent of her ability to defend herself.  She is after all...a princess....and, well, one of royalty does not tussle.  Her best idea is to climb the nearest tree not knowing that other cats can climb equally as well if not better.  The tree climbing idea is not a bad one except Ms. Nycto has yet to figure out how to get back down out of a tree.  She sits and meows plaintively in hopes that Son will climb up after her.  My idea?  Leave her be.  She will learn that what goes up...must come down.  Her doleful calls pull at the heartstrings, however, so I try to divert the whole event.  

  It was when I went through the east garden gate that I had to stop in my tracks regardless of an impending cat brawl.  Wafting in the air was the sweet scent of peaches...or apricots...or something!  Yep, the Tea Olive was in bloom and the delightful aroma overpowered the urge to rescue a helpless princess.  The tiny blossoms had captured my attention!  Oh, my goodness!  There appear to be enough that I may dry them for future use in tisanes!  

  Tea Olive is a shrub that has the tiniest blossoms but the largest scent.  The one quarter inch blooms can fill an entire garden with a peachy fragrance like none other.  These blossoms are often infused in tisanes to give the tea-drinker a most pleasant experience.  The blossoms can also be added to jellies, baked goods, soaps and, well, just about anything you wish to have a delightful scent.  

  My pause at the garden gate was soon interrupted by the Bayou Princess.  She had come to glare at me as if to say, "Why did you not come when I summoned you?"  She looked none the worse for wear and prissed her way to the front step and demanded to be let back inside.  She had already had enough frustration for the day and needed a nap!  I gladly consented so I could continue my hike in peace.

Art In The Making?

    Every now and again, I find something that strikes a notion in my brain..."I can use that!"  Although, I have no earthly idea just how the item will be used, it is toted home and stuck aside while those wheels in the brain turn and turn.  Eventually, some creative notion shapes and the "thing" is put to good use.  Usually.  Occasionally, the item either goes back where I found it (if it a natural occurring thing), I give it to someone who will use it or I discard it.  Those choices are easy.  The hard part is to never pick it up in the first place.

  This morning, there was not much going on in the way of a sunrise nor were there any critters doing spectacular things to divert my attention.  A lone piece of driftwood was the only thing that caught my eye.  "I NEED that!" my brain told me.  "Get it!"....so I did.  A knot of pine was fished out of the mud and rinsed clean.  After sitting in the sun for a while, the piece of wood dried out nicely and appears in much better condition than I originally thought.  It has a very attractive shape and some interesting worm holes and barnacles for added flair.  Now, to figure out just how to use this fine piece!  Perhaps some bauble could be framed in that center hole????

 

The Tangled Mess

  I have always been fascinated by spiders and spider webs.  Not that I particularly wish to find them in the Little Bayou House but I have been known to not kill them.  It is a fact that I will gently catch and move a spider if it is deemed bothersome.  Spiders are good.  They eat other critters that infest homes.  To my way of thinking, it is far better to have a couple of spiders than a house full of roaches, fleas or other creep-crawly critters.  Don't get me wrong here!  I will occasionally kill a spider.  Brown recluses or any of the widows are on the "evil" list.  I was bitten years ago by a black widow and do not wish to repeat that!  To be honest, I get bit by some sort of spider almost weekly but the widow did the most harm.  

  Another facet of the world of spiders that I adore is their webs.  While I admit that (again) I am not fond of them in the house, outside is a different story.  The webs are interesting.  Let a light fog or misty rain fall upon the Bayou and every web is a jewel-encrusted decoration!  The sheer strength of the webs to hold so much water is impressive.  Most of the spider webs are of the orb type.  The spiders will string webs between two trees, in the marsh or even on the side of the house, itself.  Once the fog rolls in, the webs catch the drips and hold them tight.  Occasionally, I will come across a web of one of the "tangle-web" spiders.  These are the ones that build webs with no particular design other than a mass of sticky silks.  Think cobwebs here.  The tangle-web spider family includes the pretty docile house spiders, several species of the yard spiders AND the widows.

 Walking after the rain the other night, I came across a tangle-web.  One of the common yard spiders that created its web between some twigs and grasses.  The spider was not to be found.  The web had been abandoned during the torrential downpour.  With the spider gone, I was able to confidently examine the web without fear of disturbing my little friend.  Yep, it was definitely a tangled mess!  It was easy to see how a hapless bug could become ensnared in this mess!  

  The web was left intact just on the outside chance that Friend Spider was going to return.  Perhaps with the next hike the spider can be identified and photographed but, for now, the web was my interesting find of  the day.

Bite/Sting...Whatever!

  Down here in the Deep South (probably in a lot of other places, as well), we deal with a lot of critters.  I am usually pretty tolerant of most as I chose a mantra of "Live and let live".  I do, however, draw the line with things that bite/sting me, eat my garden or eat my house.  Yep, I am talking bugs here.  Our bout with termites eating the house (thanks, Hurricane Katrina) and an onslaught of weird grasshoppers eating the garden has taught me a couple of things.  First...be sure to take care of those critters right away.  Do not assume that because you only see a few, there are no more.  There are and they will soon wreak havoc on everything.   Several types of the critters are literally trying to eat us out of house and home.  We are dealing...slowly. Two...be careful where you step as some of the critters inflict pain!  Causing them to go into defensive mode is asking for trouble!

  One type of critter that is the bane of my existence is the fire ant.  These ants excavate massive hives beneath the ground and create large mounds above ground.  I am ok with ants being around the place as they do serve a purpose.  They clean up dead things or rotted things.  The stench of what could be is not a happy thought.  I am grateful for that but I am not overly happy with the critters biting/stinging me.  I do realize that they are trying to defend their territory but it just happens that this is also my territory.  Accidentally stepping on the side trails of an ant mound can lead to a leg full of nasty pus-filled lesions that can linger for a week or more.  To those that are allergic or weakened, a number of the bites/stings can cause severe medical issues.  

  As you may have noticed, I keep saying bite/sting and that is not an oversight.  Fire ants bite only to get a good grip on you so they can use their stinger which is located on their posterior end.  The stinger is loaded with venom that causes serious pain!  It is because of this, that fire ants are not on my "Like List".  This afternoon, I was traipsing about behind the canebrake when I accidentally stepped on one of those side trails leading to a mound.  Immediately, my leg felt like it was on fire!  The red, swollen areas still itch tonight and it is driving me crazy!!  Fire ants are evil beings!  After the rains that supposed to set in tonight, I shall be out hunting down those critters and exterminating all I can.  This is war!

A Cardinal Came To Visit

  Early this morning, I took the old dog out for his morning exercise.  He was moving slowly....even more slowly than usual.  His energy seemed sorely lacking and his movements appeared to ail him.  The cool front that dropped our temperatures some 20 degrees during the night may be the culprit.  He has arthritis pretty heavily which makes walking rather painful at times.  Since our hike was progressing at a snail's pace (if even that), I had plenty of time to check around for anything worth photographing.  About half way down the hill, our hike came to an abrupt halt.  Mr. PJ had enough of the walking and sat down to rest his weary bones.  He did not want to move no matter how hard I tried to cajole him.  We could go no further.  We could not go back.  He sat.  Well, it was best to let him sit so I meandered a bit always staying with in his line of vision.

  Alongside of the path, there is a couple of dead trees.  It was on one of these dead limbs that a cardinal suddenly popped in to visit.  The bird seemingly was trying to get my attention.  It flitted about the tree just a few feet from me then came to rest in full view. The bird started making a light chipping sound all the while keeping a steady gaze at me.  I talked with the bird as if it could fully understand what I was saying.  By the head tilts and intermittent silences, maybe it did.  After about ten minutes of our visit, the bird broke out into full song.  Wow!  I felt honored.

  It is often said that when a cardinal appears to be trying to garner your attention, it has a message from beyond.  It seems that the name "cardinal" comes from the Latin word "cardo" which translates to hinge.  If you use your imagination here, you can see where this all got started.  A door has hinges so the bird is passing through the door between Heaven and Earth as it carries messages.  Sometimes, we need that assurance that our loved ones are still there...still watching over us.  The myths and legends about the cardinal all deal with good health, happy relationships, renewal of spirit and protection.  Since the bird is hard to miss with its bright color and happy song, it is easy to see why folks want it to be associated with someone they have loved...and still love.  I wonder who came to visit me today???  There are so many that I would love to visit again. 

What a pair!

  If you read at all, you will eventually come across tales of unusual friendships in the animal world.  Critters have a decent amount of love to share given a half of chance.  I don't care if it is a rhino that has befriended a sheep or a chicken that loves a cat, their friendships seem to flourish because there is no interruption by meddlers.  To my way of thinking, people are the only critters that show a bit of jealousy when it comes to other people and their friendships.  It is ridiculous!  But, that said, those in the critter world just don't care about all of the drama in the human world.  They just live the way they feel.  Pretty neat.

  The old dog, Mr. PJ, has been feeling a good bit better since his surgery.  He now actually looks forward to his daily walks.  While he was ill, his walking was more like trudging and at a tremendously slow pace.  I had time to observe a lot of things during these snail-paced meanderings.  One of the things that I noticed was that a juvenile gray squirrel seemed to be following us.  At first, it lingered in the treetops but was never too far from our path.  Later, the little squirrel would often come down from the tree and busy itself on the ground.  Now that the old dog is better, our hikes have sped up a bit.  He does his own thing off-leash.  He takes a walk down the lower part of the yard near the marsh.  That little squirrel seems elated that Mr. PJ is better as now the squirrel follows more closely.  As soon as we get down near the old oak in the front yard, the squirrel stays within a few feet of the dog.  The dog, however, seems oblivious to the friendship-offering critter.  He plods along unaware that he has a miniature shadow.  

  It amuses me that this unlikely pair take the daily walks together.  Normally, the dog would be chasing the squirrel and the squirrel would be high in the treetops but not with this duo!  They are buddies to the end!  I am supposing that as the weather chills and food gets hard to find, I had better stick a few dog treats in my pocket so Mr. PJ can share a snack with his little buddy.  That would be a nice gesture.

Hunting for Magic!

  I have often said that the Bayou is a magical place full of mystical beings.  While this may fully be due to my wild imagination, one cannot help but believe that there are a lot of unseen entities dwelling among the palmettos, hiding beneath the ferns and playing in the creek bottom.  Back before the old dog became incapacitated, he and I would wander aimlessly in search of the magic.  We often found it.  Somewhere deep in the woods, a feeling would surround us then, invariably, a presence could be felt.  Usually, a critter of some sort would be found hiding among the leaves or staring down from the treetops.  Whether these critters were magical to others remains to be seen but they were (and still are) to me. 

  Now that Mr. PJ has fallen too weak to hike, he and I spend more time inside.  His days are spent napping on his bed and I piddle about making clue hunt props.  The old dog's health and happiness have taken precedence over my hikes.  Still, I occasionally get to slip out the back door when he is in a deep sleep.  It is then that I continue my search for magical beings!  

  Down behind the old pump shed, the new path twists and turns beneath some huge magnolia trees.  Their thick canopy pretty much blocks out the sunlight and gives the path an almost ominous flare.  It was here that I found the tiny mushroom that just begged for some elfin creature to dance upon its cap.  I photographed the mushroom but never once laid eyes upon the elf!  Perhaps, later in the week, another hike will prove more productive!  

  Now before you think I have flipped my lid, my magical creatures are merely whatever happens to be found on the short hikes.  It matters not if it is a tiny mouse nibbling the mushroom or the wily bobcat slinking beneath the ferns in hopes of catching a rabbit.  Being in their presence is enthralling so...magical creatures they are.  Right now, I can use all the magic I can find.

Wandering...just wandering

  As I hike the hillside in the early morn, a billion things are floating about the brain.  Here lately, things are a jumble of "not so good".  Don't get me wrong, nothing is devastating but there are "those" billion things that shift around just enough to be aggravating.  Stress is not a fun thing.  Someone once said "Not all those who wander are lost."  It is true.  Some of us merely wander aimlessly to collect thoughts along the way.  The voices riding beneath the trees sometimes can bring great solace.  Their bits of wisdom put things in perspective when life throws it askew.

  One of those voices came to me by way of a small bird.  A Carolina wren was perched in a dead mimosa tree.  It was singing the sweetest, "come hither" melody that ever was heard.  Music echoed through the trees. The bird was calling its brood that fledged a few days ago.  The little ones all gather back at the nest site at night but then at the crack of dawn they flit about searching for breakfast.  The bird singing was a comfort to my weary mind.  "Come hither and I shall protect you."

  Carolina wrens are tiny birds that are huge with personality.  While they are normally shy, once they know you, they are quick to trust you.  These birds will nest in sheds or porches without fear of humans.  My sweet friends nest in the greenhouse where I work every day.  Not once have they shown fear.  They use my presence to "protect" them and bring comfort.  This morning, the bird turned the tables and brought peace to my weary soul.