Potential!

   Most folks probably look at me as a hoarder.  I keep anything with potential!  Whereas others view things as trash and immediately toss them in the garbage bin, my brain says "You can make something with those!"  I usually do.  I keep a "well-stocked" craft room full of everything imaginable just because of that supposed potential.  My "clutter" is basically ideas that have not come to fruition yet....but that potential is there so the clutter stays.

  Just recently, I found some glass bottles that had floated in on a hurricane tidal surge.  While cleaning the debris line, the bottles were tossed aside.  Later, any that were chipped were promptly discarded but the aforementioned potential kept me from tossing any that were in tact.  When I came across the stash of bottles, I knew immediately what I wanted to try!  Shipping boxes had supplied me with plenty of wrinkled brown paper so...it was a no-brainer...combine the two!  Grabbing the two plus some white glue and leftover tidbits from other projects, I set to work.

  What would have wound up in the dump now sits on a shelf receiving compliments from visitors. I am pretty pleased with the outcome and intend on pulling more bottles from the stash.  Those may not be decorated in the same way but something will come to mind...and there is always that potential!

"Best Kind of Gift"

   A couple of years ago, I was talking with my brother and he made the comment that he did not want gifts of "things I have to put in the house" for Christmas.  It seems that he is in about the same boat I am in with the house filled to the max.  There IS no room for anything else.  I keep telling folks to stop giving me things that take up space.  Don't buy me some cutesy knickknack because you have no idea what to bring...bring yourself.  That is it.  Both my brother and I have come to realize that "things" are not what are needed.  Kindness is.  So, I vowed to not get him anything that needed to be put "in" the house.  Instead, I found a way to let him know that my heart wishes him well but without the needless buying of things.  It has become a custom for me to give him hurricane debris!  Yep, hurricane debris!

  Storms have a tendency to wash just about everything imaginable up in the yard on the tidal surge.  That stuff gets stuck and it is a chore to clear it.  So, I hit upon the idea of giving it as a gift!  Now before you think I merely haul a wheelbarrow of garbage to his house, let me explain.  My brother loves all things to do with our Coastal living especially the overlooked things.  So, I have taken to salvaging driftwood from the storm surge lines and creating some oddity to give him.  We get a good laugh and then, if the whim strikes him, he can use the piece as firewood.  (I always remind him of that option!)  As an example, last year I created a life sized Great Blue Heron out of driftwood.  Life sized as in 4ft tall!   He loved it!  The crazy bird still stands on his deck with its head stretched high as it looks over the Bay.  In fact, he claims that everyone that visits loves his bird.  Aww...now I feel pretty good about that debris!

  This year, in keeping with the theme, I decided to get in the holiday spirit and make a Christmas Tree of sorts for him.  Again, that hurricane debris driftwood came into play.  The tree was put together with screws and jute string, strung with some mini lights and draped with Spanish moss.  I topped it with a rubber starfish that has been "floating" around here for years and tied on some shells as ornaments.  Once finished, I hauled the 3ft tall tree over to his place.  Yep...he loved it and immediately hung it on the wall of his porch.  Each evening, those little lights twinkle brightly as the glorified sticks of driftwood hold the decorations. 

  All of this just goes to show that Christmas is in the heart not in your hand.  Give something that shows you care.  Hurricane debris gifts?  Yep, I care enough to get creative with the "firewood" I give to him.  We both get a good laugh and lots of hugs.  You might be wondering what he gave to me?  Well, my gift is a bunch of really neat pieces of an antique chandelier that he found.  He handed me a box of the dismantled light parts and I was thrilled.  He knows how much I like to repurpose old things in my creations!  My head is already spinning with ideas of how to use the treasures!  Merry Christmas, folks.  Don't give cluttering gifts...give time...give love...give from the heart...or....give hurricane debris!  It is great to have a brother who can find the love behind a gift of driftwood.

The Making of a "Herodactyl"!

   After any storm that pushes the tide up in the yard, I sort through the debris.  Anything such as bottles, cans and plastics are bagged and put to the end of the lane for roadside pickup.  Large pieces of wood and boards are pulled and stacked for reuse.  The marsh grass, leaves and small twigs are mulched for the gardens and pathways.  Through all of the cleanup, I am searching...searching for anything that can be reused, recycled or repurposed.  It takes a bit of imagination sometimes but it does put an interesting spin on an otherwise tedious chore.  Lately, driftwood has been deemed a "find"!

  Back in December, I had the bright idea to create a driftwood heron sculpture as a gift for my brother.  He had made the statement that he did not "need" anything to put in his house as there was already too much stuff in it.  I can fully understand his plight as I feel the same way about the Little Bayou House.  Well, that statement got me to thinking about creating something he could leave outside.  So...the driftwood heron popped into the brain.  Admittedly, my attempt was feeble in comparison to the fine works of true driftwood artists but my brother seemed tickled over his odd critter sculpture.  Son said it looked more like a pterodactyl so he smashed the two names together and said I created the very first "herodactyl"   Heron and pterodactyl are names that need to be smashed, I guess.  So Herodactyl became a thing.

  This afternoon as Son was working on the pier, I spied some odd driftwood pieces near the shore.  Knowing I cannot get down along the shoreline to retrieve them, I had to use a bit of ingenuity involving a long pole and a broken scoop net.  It worked!  I now have the makings of a new sculpture!  Perhaps since arthritis is dulling the use of my hands for fine work, these larger pieces will satisfy the craving to create.  I am not sure what the driftwood pieces will become but I am sure it will have a fine name from Son!  Create, folks!  Don't fret if it is not museum worthy...just create!  It is good for the brain.

Hiding Under A Board!

   A few days ago, Son got hurt and has been out of action while he recuperates.  This means, I have been pulling "double duty" with the house restoration and hurricane cleanup.  Needless to say, I am exhausted but the work has to be done so I do it.  I am getting far too old for this!  I need a break but always feel guilty taking one knowing the work will be there when I go back.  So, I plod through it all.

  Today, I was purely spent.  The stack of lumber that was needing to be burned seemed endless.  Since there is a burn ban in effect, my efforts are slow.  A burn bin can only do so much.  To make the boards fit, I had to use the saw which just made more work.  As I was grumbling to myself about how slow it was going, a friend came along to brighten my day.  Of course, I had to stop and visit.  After the visit, I felt refreshed and was able to continue with my chores.

  My "visitor" was found under one of the large planks that I had to move.  Hiding there, with a myriad of other critters, was the loveliest ribbon snake!  Normally, these snakes are rather skittish and will slither away before you really even notice them but this one stayed put.  I was able to get a lovely photograph before picking it up to move it to a safer place.  Even as I held the snake, it was calm!  Oh, it was such a joy to interact with the snake.  My day suddenly seemed much nicer.

  Ribbon snakes are such slender things that you have to wonder how they ever eat! I have seen them eat tiny frogs but under the woodpile it had to be living off of insects and worms.  There was an abundance of both!  My new found friend is now in the Small Gardens where I know there are two others.  How happy I am to know there are three ribbon snakes lurking in among the plants!

Mushy Wood...Mushy Brain

   For the life of me, I cannot think of what type tree floated up in the hurricane debris.  I should know this.  I do know this.  Only I don't know this.  The log is of a tree that was leafless before Hurricane Zeta deposited it on our property so that is of no help.  What I do know is that the wood has a dark orange layer just beneath the bark.  This layer is about an inch thick and peels off rather easily.  I am no botanist and I do not even know the names of the layers but it is just below the bark.  What makes it interesting is that the entire log is so soft that you can literally put your fingers right through it.   Granted that is probably due to deterioration but should this be happening in a matter of months?  I can reach down and pull huge chunks of the log off with no effort.  This does not sound like a very sturdy tree.  No wonder it fell to the storm.  

  Mark actually cut the log in firewood sized pieces for Son to split.  While the thought was good, the wood is not.  There is no possible way to haul it to the fireplace!  It falls apart!  Basically, I would need a shovel and bucket to get it inside the Little Bayou House.  Then, I am not overly sure of whether I should even burn the stuff!  

  So...if anyone has a clue of the identity of this tree by using a photo of one piece, let me hear from you.  I really should recognize this.  I guess the brain has not fully healed yet as I had hoped.

 

Conditions are right!

   Back when Hurricane Zeta rolled through and did major damage to the Bayou area, the debris was endless.  It still is endless but progress is being made.  The decision to cut the smaller stuff into a mulch worked out rather well.   After pulling all trash and boards from the mounds, I used an old lawnmower to literally cut the stuff to a fine mulch.  The wheelbarrow was used to tote the stuff up the hill where it was dumped into the garden and pathways. Now that the debris mulch is starting to decay a bit, it is becoming a delightful mix of fertile soil.  It is sort of the ultimate of recycling.  

  The rich soil, warm weather and copious fog has made the fungi around here spring up like bad weeds.  The whole hillside is starting to look like a gigantic faerie garden with toadstool benches everywhere.  Mushrooms of every color, shape and size are pushing their way through the one foot thick layer of mulch. 

  It does make me wonder where all the spores came from since the place was covered with water during the storm and, if the spores stayed on the ground, how in the world are they pushing through that thick mulch?  Fungi is resilient, for sure!  If the conditions are right, the mushrooms grow. They are, indeed, amazing creations.

Battered and Tattered, Life goes on...

   My brain is tired.  I am tired.  Yet, I still cannot find the time to rest or, perhaps, the need to be active is more pressing than the need to relax.  Folks, that is a sad way to be.  It wears on the body, mind and soul.  Life on the Bayou used to be laid-back and slow-paced.  Now it seems as if the world is encroaching, not only development-wise but also mentally.  Even though I have, more or less, been isolated here since March, stress has a way of pushing itself in where it is not needed.  Health problems (both mine and family members), hurricanes and isolation...all have been playing a huge role in my attitude!  It needed adjusting right quick!

  This afternoon after gathering firewood in the drizzly rain, I called it quits about 2pm.  There was plenty of indoor chores that needed doing but, by that time, the mood had dissolved into a heap of mush.  "This is not like me." I thought to myself.  Something has to give.  Well, evidently Son knew that his mom was about fried!  I heard some pretty strange noises happening in the living room and went to investigate.  The handmade wooden Christmas Tree was leaning against the french doors.  Hmm, that is a weird place to put decorations!  Then I realized what he was doing.  Son had pulled the wooden Christmas Tree from upstairs and was making a few minor repairs.  The tree was showing a bit or wear and tear so he was making sure it was ready to brighten another Christmas. Afterward, the tree was installed in its usual spot of the wall by the stairs. Watching him work brought back a flood of memories about this tree.  He actually made the tree years ago from wood scraps.  The entire tree was made from stuff I had pulled from the debris piles after Hurricane Katrina! 

 When his installation was complete, he put his arm around my shoulders and said "Merry Christmas, Mom.  The tree is up and things are going to be better from this point onward."  You know what?  I believe him.   It has to be.  It just has to be.

The Elusive Bag Bird!

   It is no lie that as you age, things change.  You are on that downhill slide with health issues and an upswing on attitude adjustments.  As the body starts failing, you just give up fretting on pleasing others and you go about with a new outlook that says "Hey, I am going to enjoy life!"  It has reached that point with me.  Things are different, for sure!  One of the problems that I have encountered is the failing eyesight.  Not that it is too bad, I am still just wearing reading glasses but I find that sometimes the wee bit of a blur in the distance can be a bit disconcerting.  My brain tells me what I see is something far different than what it is!  This can be fun...sometimes.

  I recall several years ago, my aunt told me about a group of birders that would often encounter such problems.  She would go with a group of similarly aged folks (mid-70s) and they would often all agree on the identity of a bird only to find that they were mistaken.  Occasionally, the "bird" was not a bird, at all!  A bent tree limb, a tin can or a piece of paper would throw them for a loop!  The folks in the group were all good natured and would get a good belly laugh out of their mistaken identity.  I giggled when she told me the story.

  Well, I giggled yet again this morning.  It happened.  While on the pier, I turned to see a lovely white bird taking flight from the shoreline.  Swinging the camera into position, I fully expected to get a photograph of our resident egret.  Nope.  That "bird" is still in the same flight position this evening.  What I saw in the predawn light was not a bird at all but rather a plastic bag that had blown in with Hurricane Zeta.  I had not seen the bag before since there was no way to get on the pier.  This morning, I edged my way on the temporary boards that Son is using to make repairs and I saw my prize...the elusive Plastic Bag Bird. The memory of the story from my aunt brought peels of laughter and a good feeling.  I miss her.  She and I got along famously.

  Even with the body aging and things starting to get a bit rickety, I am bound and determine to carry on living with as much gusto as possible.  Now that the kids are all grown, it is my time to kick back and do things my way.  It matters not if I see plastic bag birds or stumble upon some migratory rarity, I figure to be out there living.  Make the time for yourself, folks.  Life is far too short to always fret over what others may think.  Have a bit of fun doing whatever floats your boat!  Oh, eventually, the egret did make an appearance so I figured my outing was all worth while.

  

Making Lemonade?

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

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

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

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

Lawnmowers can be evil!

   Lawnmowers are dangerous!  It seems that the machines are out to get us.  I have it figured that they are monsters in disguise.  When you least expect it, mowers can leap out in attack!  Wham!  They've got you! It ain't pretty, folks!  It ain't pretty!

  I guess you have gathered by now that I had a run in with the lawnmower, today.  In all fairness, I have to admit that I was stupid and the mower was not at fault.  The mulching of the debris line from Hurricane Zeta is still in full swing.  Using the lawnmower as a mulcher was a hare-brained idea that came to me in the middle of the night when I found that chipper/shredders were outrageously priced.  Knowing that a new machine would rust quickly when putting salt-laden debris in it, I opted to use an old, refurbished lawnmower instead.  Smart thinking...stupid thinking.  The mower is lacking the back guard flap that keeps things from slinging out at your feet.  No problem...until today.  I had carefully (I thought) raked out the debris line and removed anything that could not be mulched.  For the past two days, everything has gone smoothly.  Today, I was obviously lax in sorting and left one unseen object in the debris.  That object could have been my undoing.  As it is, I have a slight injury to my wrist.  

  After mowing for about an hour, I noticed a rather large chunk of wood between me and the mower.  I reached down to remove it and, at that very instance, the mower picked up an 8 inch long bolt and propelled it toward my leg.  The bolt, now jagged from impact with the blade, caught my wrist, instead.  A two inch long slice was cut into the flesh and blood oozed down into my hand.  Well, now!  I wiped the blood off onto my jeans and I continued.  The wrist did not hurt so I figured I could keep working.  It was just a "flesh-wound".  Again, blood filled the palm of my hand and dripped to the fingertips.  Ok, so it was time to head to the Little Bayou House for a repair job!  

  After cleaning the wound, I packed it full of turmeric, bandaged it and headed out the door to work.  Since I am working with debris from the Bayou waters that teem with the flesh-eating bacteria during warm months, I figure I did not need to take any chances.  The turmeric should tend to that for me.  The bolt was obviously ripped from one of the pier stringer boards.  It was rusty and had been in the water for some time.  Perhaps, I should have called it a day but there was work to be done and no time to lollygag about.  The wound will be watched but I am sure not going to whine.  Life is good.  Lawnmowers, on the other hand, can be evil!....Nah, it is all good.  I just need to be a bit more careful.

Still Finding

  Hurricane Katrina hit the Coast over ten years ago but I am still finding stuff that washed in with the surge.  Our property (along with all other waterfront pieces) accumulated mountains of debris.  Everything from parts of houses to parts of semi trucks littered the place.  At some points in the yard, the debris was more than twelve feet deep.  Furniture, boats, shoes (lots and lots of shoes!) doors, refrigerators, curtains, knickknacks were all mixed in with boards, trees, marsh grass and dead critters.  There was no accounting for what you might find while out traipsing the mountain of debris.  Some was useful. some was disgusting, all was heart-wrenching.  With no available markets open for daily necessities, I would send Son out on a scavenging trip.  "I need detergent,  a bucket and perhaps something to make a clothesline."  or "Go out and find a couple of chairs and a table.  We have more folks coming down the lane hunting for a hot meal." (We fed dozens of hungry folks.  Thank goodness our grill was salvageable.  With no power, folks had no way of cooking for months.)  No matter what the request was, we usually could find needed items by scrounging about the place.  To sum it up, when one out-of-state cousin asked what it was like living after the storm, I had a ready reply.  "It is a lot like camping out....in the largest dump in the world."  It was.

  Still today, I find things that the storm surge deposited in the yard.  In the far back corner of the property...down behind the canebrake, I made yet another discovery.  The recent deluge of rain, uncovered glass.  Not just any glass but more shards of stained glass that I assume came from churches demolished by the hurricane. I have boxes of like shards in all colors of the rainbow.  Why did I keep them?  I guess because I needed that rainbow.  I needed something bright and pretty. I needed that "light at the end of the tunnel".  I needed that sign that things were going to be ok.  Now the box of glass has become just another bunch of art supplies. The blue one today will join the others and will become something of beauty...from destruction comes a thing of beauty....hmmm, interesting thought.

  This particular area of the yard also received about six feet of beach sand from miles away.  There is no telling what is still buried beneath all of that sand.  Some months after the storm, I found what I thought was a "pretty board".  Still in the salvaging mode, Mark helped me to dig (and dig and dig) until we uncovered a beautiful hall table.  It had been completely buried except for about four inches of one leg.  The table now sits upstairs along with a lovely rosewood bed and an oak table with two matching chairs....all finds from the debris piles.  Darling Daughter laid claim to an entire rosewood dining set that we found and refurbished.  But it was that shard of glass that brought this flood of memories.

  Now...we sit watching the weather forecast that claims another storm may come our way eventually.  Since this one is still far, far out in the Atlantic, I can only hope that it weakens and turns north.  Folks down here do not need a storm on the heels of the massive flooding that our neighbors in Louisiana just received.  They need time to dry out and regroup.  They need time to rebuild and reclaim their lives.  My heart goes out to them.  The good folks of Louisiana need our prayers and any help that can be offered.  

  As I clutched yet piece of Katrina debris eleven years after the fact and with a storm out on the far horizon, I ponder what is to come.  Funny how one little piece of blue glass can trigger thoughts.

Treasure Hunt!

  Son is pet sitting for Darling Daughter and her husband while they are out of town visiting his folks.  It is not often that I have the opportunity to "clean" his room (and we all know how moms think rooms are not clean unless they do them!) so I am taking full advantage of this!  I have decided to "deep clean" the entire house starting with his room. Hopefully, I will finish with his territory before he returns tomorrow. Anyway, while I was tackling the usual clutter that amasses atop dressers, I had to sit back for a few minutes and ponder things.  Hanging on the wall over his chest of drawers is a door panel.  Yep, a door panel...or at least I assume that is what the thing is.  

  Years ago when he headed off to college, I did a similar deep clean of his room.  It was a lot easier then since he took most everything with him.  I was assured of the fact that whatever I tossed was not needed. Now, I am not so certain.  But during that other purging of the attic room, I had a wild hair to redecorate (not this time!).  Since his room was painted a deep grey and he loved black and red, that set the theme.  He also had a penchant for Asian art ever since my aunt gave him a water-color painting that she had gotten on a long-ago trip to China.  That started this whole thing!  I hung that piece of art and things went from there.  This was right after Hurricane Katrina and it just so happened that I "rescued" a few items from the debris mounds that filled the property.  One was the aforementioned door panel.  This item was special. Well, maybe not to too many folks but I deemed it worth keeping. The panel was black lacquer with mother of pearl inlay and was just far too pretty to toss aside in the trash heap.  So, I kept it and it soon was hung in his room.  From trash to treasure perfectly describes the piece! A few other items, such as his sword collection and an oriental screen polished off the look.  

  I figure that Son must have been pleased with his room as he did not change a thing when he moved back home.  Oh....other than bringing back a ton of stuff.  It is that stuff and years of added stuff that needed purging today.  Old school books, an accumulated mound of tools and some older clothes all found their way downstairs and either in the trash or out to the shed.  The room looks so much better already!  

  I must say that the door panel and the other nifty things will stay and, at least for a little while, the room will resemble something from a magazine page!