Its Bright! Its Yellow!

   I guess I am one of the very few people in this old world who finds all things of nature interesting.  Since most of my days are spent outside, it seems that I see my share of just about everything.  So, it is only natural for me to "study up" (using Granddad's term) on new findings.  I might as well learn.  Sitting inside is not for me nor is repeating the same activities.  Learning, on the other hand, is!  Learning about all things of nature is even more.

  With the copious rainfall that has occurred in the past few months, the hillside is in a constant state of "wet".  That moistness combined with the warmth of spring causes some pretty amazing growths in the yard.  This morning's hike found me taking photographs of slime mold.  Yeah, I was on my knees photographing that stuff that most people say "Yuck!" over.  I am ok having the stuff around only because it causes no problems.  It is not toxic, it is not harming the trees or plants, it is only around for a few weeks, at best.

  This particular slime mold has the lovely, catchy name of "Dog Vomit" Slime Mold.  Indeed, it does resemble that more on the second day than the first.  It was my thought that the fresh stuff looks a whole lot more like a yellow, kitchen sponge or even some grated cheese than dog puke.  In fact, it is almost pretty!  Granted, by the end of the day, the stuff turns sort of "bile" brown and chunky.  

  Folks, embrace what Mother Nature provides even if it is a slime mold.  Time is too short to be so "cotton-pickin' nitpicky"...to use another of Granddad's phrases.  Yep, this is the same man who got me started delving into all things natural.  I sure miss our times discussing whatever happened our way even if it was Dog Vomit Slime Mold.  Smart man.

Hiking Buddy

   My days here on the Bayou usually wrap around several hikes.  Chores take up most of the day but there is never too much needing done that I cannot take a quick jaunt to the back creek or along the marsh edge.  These hikes are more of a "sanity keeper" than anything else.  I need to feel that connection with the Bayou, itself.  So, I meander wherever the calling takes me.  

  More oft than not, a single mockingbird will meander with me. The bird usually will stay just a few feet from me while hopping from shrub to shrub.  The thickets provide it plenty of places to feel comfortable yet near.  It watches my every move...my every step, yet, does not seem to have great fear.  Several times during my thrice daily walks, the bird will chirp as if trying to tell me something.  I ponder.  I wonder what it would say if we could communicate.

  I also ponder if this is either Knox or Shelby.  Those were the two baby mockingbirds that I raised after the parent birds were killed.  Those two came back to visit for several years.  Now, this single bird follows me.  Is it one of them? Can birds have long term memory?  Would it even recall the relationship we had after so many years?  So many questions go unanswered.  Still, the bird seems to have great interest in me and, of course, I do the same.  The mockingbird and I have an ongoing friendship.  I welcome that.

Finding Beauty In Odd Places

   As I am free to wander about the Bayou now, my hikes have taken on a new vision.  I see things differently, in a lot of cases.  A common weed now has beautiful blooms whereas before I never noticed.  The smell of fresh pine needles is almost intoxicating as is that of the leaves of the camphor tree.  Moss is delightfully soft and cool even on the hottest of days.  Things are just different....or perhaps I am.  

  Early this afternoon, it was too hot to work in the gardens and I have had enough of being confined to the Little Bayou House so I headed out back.  Down behind the greenhouse right on the marsh edge is a huge pile of oyster shells.  It is here that Mark sits patiently for hours to shuck enough oysters for not only us but dozens of our elderly friends.  The mound is getting rather large.  Occasionally, the raccoons forage through these shells in hopes of finding some tidbit of oyster even though those are long gone.  They can, however, find worms and insects so their grubbling is not in vain.  All of the rummaging about does create a mess.  Shells are everywhere!  This afternoon, one of those shells fascinated me.  This was not an oyster shell but a common saltwater mussel that sometimes is attached to the outer part of the oyster.  Mark does not open these but lets the critters have their fill of the morsels found therein.

   This particular shell was about three inches in length and nigh on two inches wide. While the outer part of the shell was the usual muddy brown, the inside was a deep, rich purple.  All salt water mussels are similar.  When freshly opened, this "nacre" glistens with an iridescent glow.  I reached down to feel the shell. It was smooth and quite warm.  My mind whirred with thoughts of how a mollusk can create something so breathtakingly lovely.  To me, the inner lining of the shell is every bit as lovely as any pearl.  That thought also got me to thinking of how expensive pearls are when the shell is just as lovely.  Hmmm, maybe folks just look at things differently.  Or maybe I do. 

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.

Memory Holders

  Years and years ago (way back when the kids were small), we used to take hikes back into the creek bed.  While other parents were too afraid to let their kids even go outside, I encouraged mine to roam the woods.  Of course, I was with them but the dangers were still there.  I figured my kids needed to learn to handle scary situations rather than hide from them.  Obviously, it worked.  As adults, they are alert to their surroundings, are able to face and conquer problems and have an infinite love for nature.  Our treks allowed them to learn to smell snakes before seeing them, explore the hidden wonders of wild creek beds and learn the flora and fauna of the area.

  It was on one of those "expeditions" that we found the creek bed filled with purple flowers.  The wild Stoke's Asters were in full bloom.  The kids were so enthralled with their own "Secret Garden" that we decided to dig up a couple of plants to bring back to the yard.  I had no idea if the plants would even grow after being moved from their boggy domain but they did.  This week, I was surprised by a few blooms peeking out from under the jasmine vines.  Their rich purple color led me to believe that the asters were happy where they were planted so many years ago.

  Stoke's Asters are wildflowers that can be found all over the Southeast.  They do well being transplanted into gardens as long as they have a bit of shade and well-drained, acidic soil.  After they are established, the plants require little to no care.  The blooms also do well as cut-flowers as they will last up to a week in a vase!  

  I love my little aster patch, not only because of the blooms, but also because of the memories of our creek bed hikes.  I miss those times.  It has occurred to me that perhaps I do not have gardens but, instead, have "memory holders"!

Social Distancing With A Frog Prince!

  The social distancing plan is working rather well here on the Bayou.  I keep my distance...you keep yours...and we are all happy campers.  My idea is to spend as much time outside as I can each day.  With almost nine acres on which to roam, there is always some place that is devoid of other humans.  Plus, not too many folks have a great desire to tromp around in swamps.  I do.  In fact, sometimes, I feel as if the swamp calls to me as much as the water does.  It is then that I slip on the leather moccasins, grab the camera and make my way down the small path.  

  Today's adventure in the creek bed and swamp did not produce any interesting finds.  It was not until I entered the garden gate that I found a little friend.  In fact, I actually stepped on the critter as it was well camouflaged!  A rather large pickerel frog was under the boysenberry vines.  I was checking the new plants when my critter friend decided to wiggle out from under my foot.  Thankfully, the soft mulch kept the frog from being harmed.  One would think that after being underfoot, the frog would have made a hasty retreat to the Frog Pond but that was not the case.  It sat.  It sat and stared at me.  Being as I am in the midst of planning a fairy tale clue hunt for this fall, wild thoughts of an enchanted frog whirled around in the brain!  How could I convince this frog to play the part come October??  Well, it would be best to sit and have a chat with this fine friend and make him an offer.  I talked, the frog listened but we came to no final plan.  

  A pickerel frog is a type of grass frog that spends most of its time in grassy fields, meadows or thick lawns.  (In my case, it loves the garden.)  Here, the frog can catch its fill of insects that flit in and about the grasses.  The frog is camouflaged by its coloring and markings so predators have a hard time finding it.  Occasionally during the day or night, the pickerel frog will make its way to a water source such as the small Frog Pond.  The frog goes to the water to lay eggs, thermo-regulate and to avoid any predators that may happen upon it in the grass.  The pickerel frog is often mistaken for a leopard frog as they are so very similar.  They are both spotted.  The pickerel frog's spots are sort of squarish (not always) and are usually in two rows running down the back.  The leopard frog has rounder spots that are just randomly placed.  There are other definitive differences but the spots are the easiest.

  My froggy friend stayed put for the entire half hour that I sat nearby.  I chatted, it listened and we had a very enjoyable time.  When I rose to go further into the garden, my friend chose to linger a bit in hopes of finding another grasshopper or two for its supper.  I have the best friends...even though we did keep the designated six feet of personal space between us!  

The Stars Underfoot

  Several of my friends are avid hikers who often drive to wilderness parks or find nearby areas to do their exploring.  They discover wondrous things along their chosen paths and love to share their finds via photographs.  I find these pictures enthralling as they spike the curiosity and make me ponder if I can find such things here on the Bayou.  Sometimes, it just takes a kick in the right direction.  I know I will never find the snow-filled wonderlands that my cousin, Libby, does on her hikes nor the historic "man-made" finds that my daughter-in-law's Uncle Mark stumbles upon but there is always the outside chance that I can find a few of the same plants or critters in the photographs of an (unmet) friend, David, who lives in Florida.  All three of these folks inspire me to keep searching even though my hikes cover just the area around the Bayou.  

  I have taken to searching more for the "unnoticed" among curiosities along my hiking path.  The tiny spider that lives in a hickory nut shell, the small brown skink that scurries under the leaves, the minuscule bluets that grow beneath the taller grasses all pique the interest.  I want to know more about this often overlooked world of magnificent entities...the tiny tidbits of life that, more oft than not, go unseen, are trampled upon or merely ignored.

  Today's masterpiece of Mother Nature is none other than an earthstar!  Earthstars are mushrooms that closely resemble the familiar puffballs only they go one step (literally) further in releasing their spores.  An earthstar uses the same method of a puffball that "poofs" spores out of a tiny hole in the top of the ball.  The only difference is, the earthstar has an outer covering that protects the spores when it is not time to release them.  Usually, the spores are pounded out of the ball by raindrops.  The spores need the moisture to grow so earthstars are adamant about not letting them "poof" before the time is right.  The outer covering of an earthstar stays tightly closed around the ball until it "feels" the rain coming.  Then, it splits open and folds backwards revealing the inner spore ball.  This flattening of the outer cover is how the earthstar gets its name.  When it splits, the outer covering is somewhat star-shaped.  That extra "step" is that the earthstar can and does fold back up over the ball if the rains quit before the spores are all released. This action protects the spores from drying out too much.  As soon as another rainstorm threatens the area, the earthstar springs into action and folds the "star" back open to let the raindrops do their work.

  I was tickled to find the earthstar this morning.  This one was just the outer covering as the hard rains of last night obviously emptied the spore ball and the high winds ripped the ball from the covering.  My little earthstar had completed its life cycle and left its spores to renew the next generation.  It is tiny things like this that make life interesting.  Just think of how many wonders of the world are stepped on, walked over or ignored on a daily basis. 

Pretty Little Moth

  Mr. PJ, the old dog, is not a spring chicken or even a pup any longer.  His days now are spent sleeping.  He no longer wishes to be outside hiking about the hillside nor does he wish to go to the pier.  It is just too much effort for the old dog to muster.  This puts a strain on me, as well, as I now pretty much have to carry him when he does go out to do his business.  Using a homemade sling under his belly makes the job of hoisting him a bit easier but it is still a strenuous task.  He deserves the help, however, since he has been a loyal friend since he came into my care.  Today, I made a promise to him to help him as long as needed.

  His care has put a damper on my hiking, however, so my photography has been relegated to whatever is found within a few steps of the front door.  Guess what??  There is not a lot happening there.  This morning was a different story.  I found a moth!  Whew!  I never thought I would be so excited to see a highly common moth resting above the door.  Why?  Well, it gave me something to think about and to photograph.  The moth was a very commonly seen Porcelain Gray Moth.  Nothing special...yet, highly special.

  It is sort of humorous how mundane things become important when they are taken away.  My hiking was always viewed as exercise.  My photography was nothing more than a way to share the Bayou.  My time outside was "getting fresh air".  Now, these things are sorely missed.  My priorities have been altered.  So...enjoy a photo of my day...a lovely Porcelain Gray Moth!