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.

Little Blooms of Hope

   After the snow and icy weather last month, February has come in as if to say "Hey!  I am spring!  All you plants need to perk up and look alive!"  Well, a lot of the plants and trees are like "Really now?  We are hurting and you want us to be perky?"  So...most continue to look dismally harmed.  The citrus trees really took a beating.  There is not much of a way to protect 20 to 30 ft tall trees and, yes, the grapefruit trees are that tall.  The orange trees are around 10 ft tall but were not "coverable" either. The cold was a bit much for all of the trees and the damage is showing in the form of brown and dropped leaves.  It is saddening that such beauty that the snow brought to the Bayou has dealt a blow on what is here year round. 

  As I wandered the hillside surveying the damaged trees, my heart gave a little leap of happiness seeing a tiny cluster of blooms.  Not everything had perished!  No, not citrus blooms (thankfully) but rather the paperwhite narcissus.  These cold hardy plants were not daunted at all by the 14 degree temperatures and have now brought hope back to the gardens.  I know it is beyond most folks thinking that I can find immense joy in the simple bloom of a lily that is a annual occurrence but, to my way of thinking, any bit of beauty means there is hope that things will soon be back to normal.  Paperwhites are said to represent the coming of spring so maybe soon things will not seem so grim.

  The cleanup of damaged gardens is in full swing as is the cleanup of fallen leaves.  The leaves will be ground and returned to the gardens as mulch.  Hopefully, what was seen as damage can help with the regrowth.  Also, hopefully, this bout of springlike weather will not encourage the off-season blooming that often happens after ice storms.  I would have preferred that February had stayed chilly and let things have a dormant stage before pushing them into a premature revival state.  Slow down, plants.  Take your time.  Let the healing be the number one priority.

I shall...

   You know it is not a good thing when I began to think that a tropical storm...not a hurricane...but a tropical storm might not be such a bad idea.  With tropical storms comes rain and usually lots of it.  As is a good bit of the country, it is dry here...bone dry...so dry that things are withering.  Add to that the triple digit heat blasting us and it makes for a most miserable time.  I can handle the heat but the dry...not so much.  Droughts are wicked things that cause suffering in so many ways.  My heart aches with each step outside as the ground literally crunches.  Plants are shriveled a brittle.  Even the pine trees are dropping their needles which usually does not occur until the end of September here.  The heat and drought cause suffering for my critter friends, as well.  With the creeks dried, some animals have taken to drinking the brackish water from the Bayou.  A little of this may be ok but to survive, they need fresh water.  The two little, decorative ponds in the yard are their only source of a cooling drink.  Despite my efforts to water the plants and fill the ponds, birdbaths and any available pans, it is not enough.  We need rain...badly.  I have even taken to dumping dishwater and stale coffee in the gardens and have buckets catching the drips from the air conditioning to use on plants. So, if it takes a tropical storm to dump that much need water, I shall deal with it.

  The gardens have gone the wayside with the exception of a few diehard plants that get a daily dousing from the water hose.  Even that did not save but a handful.  The potted plants are doing better but the "in ground" ones have already met their demise.  I am not accustomed to this.  Normally, my little shaded nook is lush and green.  Now, it is sere and crunchy.  You can imagine my surprise this morning when I found a single daylily in bloom. My heart swelled as I dropped to my knees to "embrace" the flower.  It was almost as if the little flower was trying to thank me for my efforts.  Seeing the lovely daylily gave me hope.  It gave me strength.  I can do this.  I shall do this.  I shall continue to help my friends as much as possible.  At times like this, the flora and fauna of the area need a helping hand.  I shall try my best.  I shall.

Is Autumn Near?

  Well, summer must be waning and autumn nearing simply because I found two things early this morning.  As I stepped out the front door, the chive blooms were the first things to greet me...then, the second was the Ailanthus Webworm Moths!  To me, these two things surely mean fall is on its way....and that cannot come soon enough.  I am ready for the heat to leave and let us get on to cooler days.

  Garlic chives are some of my favorite plants to have in the gardens simply because they grow year round.  These have a more garlicky taste than the regular or onion chives but it is not so strong as regular garlic.  The mildness is just enough to add flavor without being overpowering.  It seems that the moths love them just as much as I do and are doing a fine job of pollinating the blossoms.  If I had my way, the entire yard would be planted in chives!  Two good points about this idea...one, we would never run out of the garlicky goodness and...two, I would never have to cut grass again!  Win/win situation!

  The Ailanthus Webworm moth is not a natural "citizen" of our area but, since it has arrived,  it has decided to stay put.  While a lot of folks are ok with the critter in its moth form, they become quite disgusted at the webs that house the caterpillars.  Seeing the web (which sort of resembles a scraggly spider web) hanging in a tree brings immediate action to "eradicate that unsightly thing"!  Me?  Meh...if you want the beauty of moths and butterflies, you have to embrace the caterpillars.  

  My sighting of the garlic chives and the orange moths gave me hope that autumn is in the air!  Bring on the pumpkins...the red leaves...the plaid, flannel shirts!  Oh...I did make cinnamon rolls today just to herald in my "early wishes of autumn"!

  

Pep Talk From A Maple Tree

   Resiliency is one of those things that I have always admired in folks....or in anything for that matter.  Being able to bounce back after a traumatic event takes toughness.  Toughness is what it is going to take to get this country out of the mess it is currently enduring.  

  I was out back in the creekbed this afternoon when I came across something that made me believe that there is hope.  A red maple tree had been severely damaged by a storm this past fall.  The tree had suffered many broken limbs but there was nothing I could do to remedy the situation.  For that matter, I have not been able to even get back here to survey the damage until now.  One branch on the tree had been broken but not completely severed from the trunk.  The part that would have been reaching for the sky was now nigh on touching the ground.  At first, it saddened me to see my beautiful red maple so broken but, on closer inspection, I gained great hope from the tree.  That branch, although battered and torn, had bloomed.  The tiny samaras were starting to form.  These seeds would soon ripen then fall to the ground to give a new start to life.  Regardless of what the tree endured, it was still trying.  It did not give up to the enemy.  It endured.  It survived.  It reproduced and will make the woods great again.  Life is good.  Don't give up!

Just Look Up

   Well, we made it through another year and 2020 was one for the record books.  But, as the saying goes, all is well that ends well.  The year has gone and we have the opportunity to make the coming year better.  Hopefully, we will...by far. There is only one thing to do...make it better.  

  Storms raged the last night of the old year but that old sun came up this morning with the New Year in its sights.  Things always look a lot brighter and happier with the light of day.  Mark and I headed to the pier at the crack of dawn to watch the sunrise.  The first sunrise of 2021 did not disappoint.  Brilliant rays of sunlight beamed down between the lingering clouds.  It gave a sense of great hope that things will be ok.  Folks, even if all else fails, look up.  The answer is there.

About As Perfect As It Gets

   The past few months have taken their toll on the Small Gardens.  What with neglect, hurricanes and freezes, things have gone from bad to worse.  There is not much hope for flower gardens until springtime so the best I can do is mulch the beds to keep them weed-free and add some much needed nutrients to the soil.  This mulching is from the ground hurricane debris which can still be found in huge mountains in the lower yard.  This idea came highly recommended and is working well.

  This morning, after another round of torrential rains, tornado warnings and high winds, I surveyed the meager offerings of the Small Gardens.  While the veggie plot appeared well-kempt, the flower gardens appeared as bleak, barren spots, except for one spot!  A bright spot of pink appeared just above the six inch deep mulch padding.  A tiny zinnia bloom greeted me after the rough night.  Is it a perfect bloom?  Not as far as some folk's standards but it appears perfect to me.  In fact, the brave little flower seems mighty exquisite.  It is hope at its best.

  The tiny plant was a volunteer from the spent blooms I had discarded from the earlier gardens.  It had wormed its way to the top of the mulch and put forth a tiny (1 inch) blossom.  I knelt next to the wee plant and thanked it for being the "pick-me-up" that I so needed.  

  It has been a rough six months...no year...for all of us but if we only look, there is beauty to be found in every day.  Folks, don't despair.  There are brighter times on the horizon if we only we make the effort to create it.  Think positive.

Looking On The Bright Side

  We had several hard freezes this past winter.  Not many but enough that it caused problems and is still causing problems.  In the Deep South, it is not uncommon to see citrus trees growing in our yards.  Usually, the lack of winter cold makes for fine growing for these trees but that one cold snap that sees the temperatures drop in the teens for a few days harms the trees.  This year, we had a few of those hard freezes that damaged the citrus trees.  In spite of my efforts to protect the trees, a good many of the limbs were killed.  My citrus grove looks terrible but there is nothing to do but trim back the limbs and hope for the best.

  Recently, I was out wandering behind the house when a delightful aroma wafted through the air.  Ahh, citrus blossoms!  Yep, the satsuma trees were blooming on the few branches that remained green! This sight gave me hope that at least the trees would attempt regrowth!

  The blooms that I inspected looked good and had the tiny oranges intact.  No, we will not have a bumper crop this year.  No, the grapefruit trees do not have blooms nor do the navel oranges and lime trees but the satsumas and lemons are bursting forth with new leaves and blooms!  Somehow, that makes things all better.  

  There is nothing like a tiny leaf or blossom to make you realize that life goes on regardless of hardships.  That one step forward is all it takes to make things better.  I figure if a rag-tag tree that has been put through the mill can grace the yard with its heavenly scent, then I can face whatever is thrown at me.  Here's to looking on the bright side!

"Hope Does Spring Eternal"

  "Hope springs eternal".  This is a partial quote from Alexander Pope in his poem "Essay on Man".  It is usually applied when one thinks that a situation is doomed but a small sliver of hope still gleams in the wings. That is how I saw it today.  "Hope springs eternal".  For years just outside the front door, two old black gum trees stood seemingly forever.  It is hard to kill these trees and even when one does die,  it is equally hard to take it down.  Hurricanes try their best to knock over the trees but to no avail.  Hurricane Katrina, with her fierce winds and extreme storm surge, could not fell one such tree that had been long gone due to flying squirrels chewing a colony of tunnels through the trunk.  The tree stood solid against all odds.  Now, twelve years later, the two trees near the door have met their demise due to the very same hurricane.  Old injuries from storm tossed debris were welcoming doors to wood boring beetles and now termites.  My two sentries that guarded the front door cease to live.  It saddened me as the trees provided shade from the harsh summer sun and blocked much wind from storms coming off the Bay.  

  This afternoon as I stood giving my last goodbyes to two steadfast friends, I noticed that hope does spring eternal.  A large section of one tree had rotted from the center outward.  The outer bark had been ruthlessly torn during Katrina tossing a deck (from across the Bay) into the tree.  The gash was a good four feet in length and probably a foot wide.  Trees were the least of our worries after the storm as we cleared the (ten feet deep) debris from around the house and made repairs.  It was far more important to rid the place of potentially disease carrying debris than worrying about the health of a tree. Eventually, the borers moved in and gutted the tree.  But...from death comes life.  Today, I found that the very same wound that killed the tree brought forth a new life.  

  Where the core of the tree had sifted down into the shell of bark, a arrowhead philodendron had taken root.  A nearby hanging plant had sent a tendril reaching out until it found the soft mulch inside the hollow tree.  The new shoot took root and now stands as a completely separate plant.  The new tendrils dangle gracefully from the gaping wound of the old tree.  The tree, itself, had become a "pot" for the new plant. Hope and life springs eternal when given a chance to take root.  There is always an answer if we only look for it.

Hope

  With the direction that most of the world seems to be heading, it is becoming more and more a relief to keep to the solitude found on the Bayou.  I can meander about the hillside in relative safety and, more oft than not, find a small bit of happiness along the way.  That joy might be in the form of a nest of baby rabbits, the sighting of the red fox as it slips behind the canebrake or even a tiny flower that has managed to take root and flourish in some tiny nook not meant as a garden.  I suppose it is all in the way you look at things and if you go out looking for despair, you will most likely find it.  On the other hand, go out looking for beauty and you are bound to not be disappointed.  Yep, sometimes it takes a bit of searching but it is there.  Mother Nature does not tend to leave things in disrepair for long. 

  Ms. Ez, the old Bayou Dog, and I hiked about a bit early this morning. There was still a bit of greyness lingering on the horizon but the day promised to be delightful.  I let the dog roam free this time as I was not in search of any elusive critter.  I was more out just to gather my sanity after being cooped up inside the Little Bayou House.  As she galloped ahead of me, I thought how delightful it must be to have not a care in the world.  She was a happy camper.  This is one time that the dog actually led the way and was not required to follow at my heels.  I do think she felt an air of importance with her freedom.  She headed down to the marsh edge under the old oak tree so I dutifully followed.  It was almost as if she was leading me somewhere and I felt it only proper to follow.  Once under the tree, Ms. Ez started sniffing the reeds as if to say "These are highly interesting!  You should take a look!"  So, I listened to her and proceeded to inspect the reeds.  "Alrighty then. These are just normal marsh plants, my friend," I told her.  Then I looked again.  Yep, normal marsh plants but in a way, not so normal. The plants were full of seeds.  They were full of hope for a new generation...hope of a fresh start...hope for tomorrow.  

  The human race would be much better off if we, as a whole, would learn to listen to our critter and plant friends.  A bit of hope for the future generations can be as simple as a seed...a seed of kindness...a seed of generosity...a seed of understanding.  In a way, it is sort of funny how an old dog and a weed can give better advice than most people that I know.  

Living up to its name

  A lot of folks do not realize that most flowers can symbolize different virtues or moods. Different color flowers mean different things. This representation is probably most noted in the rose.  Florists will tell you that the red rose "means" true love.  A yellow rose when given shows friendship.  A pink rose shows grace.  And so on.  This symbolization is evident in other flowers as well.  An iris is the symbol of hope.  

  This morning, I went out to find one of my large irises toppled by some critter.  Evidently during the night, a raccoon or perhaps a coyote decided to trample about in the garden and the iris was obviously in the way! Down went my lovely iris just before the bud opened.  I was so looking forward to this iris blooming as it was one that Pop had given to me years ago.  Seeing it trampled was a tad disappointing to say the least.  

  By midmorning, however, the bud opened into a gorgeous bloom.  The deep, royal purple and touches of gold caught me by surprise.  Though covered with sand, the bloom was something to behold.  I thought of how appropriately the iris held up its symbolization.  Hope was shining through even though the odds were against the bud from ever opening. Yep, sometimes flowers truly can represent virtues. Maybe, just maybe, we could learn a lesson from this common flower.  Strive forward even through the worst of times.  Have hope.  Never give up as things will look differently in the morrow.  

Be a lantern.

Well, it is that time of year again.  That one day a year where we make all sorts of resolutions to better ourselves in the coming three hundred and sixty-five days.  At least most of us attempt it for about three days before falling back into our safe, "feel-good" zone where we have resided for our entire lives.  Not many folks can set goals for the new year and actually stick with them.  I have been pondering just what my resolutions for this upcoming year should be.  It occurred to me that perhaps there is just one resolution that any of us need to make.  A single promise from each of us would solve multitudes of problems in this old world.  Each of us should vow to become a lantern.

It would be fantastic if each of us would vow to become a lantern, a light unto the world.  Each of us could strive to bring light, bring hope to those who need it most.  No matter how small or simple of a deed it is, if it brings a smile to someone, it is well worth the effort.  Even just a kind word or a warm smile can make a positive difference in someone's life.  A friendly handshake, a hug, a few kind words might just be all it takes to turn someone in a different direction. For those who can afford it, financial help for those who are down on their luck might just be the turning point.  A visit to an elderly neighbor who spends days at a time by themselves, a heartfelt thank you said to a veteran, a donation made to your favorite charity or merely a random kind note on a social network might be all it takes.  None of these would be that difficult to achieve and the rewards would be phenomenal!

Sometimes a bit of hope is all it takes. Hope can open paths where darkness once blocked the way.  Hope can give strength where weakness once reigned.  Hope, in itself, can mend all that was broken beyond repair.  Being a beacon of light in times of darkness not only helps those who seek help but also helps the person providing the glimmer of hope. To become that light in bleak hours not only benefits those in despair but also the light itself.  Given fuel, a lantern burns brighter thus may illuminate further into the darkness.  That fuel, in this case, is the good feeling that one gets from helping in whatever way possible.

Be a beacon, lend a hand, give a kind word or share your wealth.  Do whatever it takes to ease just one person's life and with that, the world will seem a bit brighter.  All it takes is one person..all it takes is you..me..each of us.  It cannot be that difficult.  One resolution...do one kind act a day for three hundred and sixty-five consecutive days.  Be a lantern.  I hope to be.

May each of you find opportunity knocking at your door, happiness at your doorstep and a warm heart and true love on your hearth. May God bless each of you.  Have a most prosperous and healthy coming year.  Happy New Year's Day from all of us at Little Bayou House!