Cookpot or Cat Bed?

   I have been working at a fast pace to get the winter garden in the ground and redo most of the Little Bayou House.  It makes me feel good that the garden is at that point where it needs to just do its garden thing and the house is almost ready for holiday company then decorating for Christmas.  Whew!  Doing all of that left me weary, to say the least.  So, a new chore came to mind. 

  Hurricane Katrina (years ago) left me with all sorts of stuff.  Being one who hates to waste anything, I tried to repurpose or reuse my "finds".  There were treasures to be found in all that destruction!  The mountains of debris held so many things that just needed to be reworked to be perfectly good again.  It did surprise me to find so many cast iron pots among the debris.  How in the world did they float across that Bay (which is the only place they could have come from).  Cast iron is heavy!  It does not float!  Still, I dug out several nice pots and matching lids.  Some were cleaned and refurbished and given to those in need. Some I kept.  One nice sized dutch oven with lid was plopped in the back of the greenhouse and forgotten.  It was waiting for an opportune moment to be refurbished. Well, that was to be today!...at least, I thought.

  Since bringing the heavy pot up to the front steps, the thing has been claimed!  No, the original owners did not stop by and say "Hey, that is my pot that I lost during the hurricane!" (If that had been the case, I would have gladly returned the fine cookpot!)  No, Bat, the Bayou Prince Cat, claimed the dutch oven.  

  I guess placing the pot in the bright sunshine warmed it enough to be the perfect (purrfect) napping place for a chilly cat.  Bat climbed in and promptly took a snooze. Well, you know how that goes.  You cannot move a napping cat for any reason so the pot sat for another day.  Hopefully, tomorrow will be the day that I buff the rust off and then oil and bake the pot and lid.  Since we are having a bit of a cool spell, it is the exact time to do that as the heating can be done on the old woodburning stove.  Soon, another fine cooking vessel shall be put to use.  That is the wondrous thing about cast iron...it lasts forever with the proper care!  Now to find that cat another bed.  I have to admit that he did look mighty comfy in the pot!

Eerie Light Globe!

   Instead of "Christmas Cheer", there has been a whole lot of drear going on around here.  I have been trying hard to "spice" things up a bit by baking and making candy but that does not seem to help weather-wise.  Fog!  Clouds!  Rain!  Sometimes all three at once...heavy clouds, fog and then rain and back to fog as soon as the rain stops.  Merry Christmas from the Bayou.  This is our typical weather pattern.  Lovely.

  As Bat, the Bayou Prince Cat, and I were making our rounds early this morning, he suddenly bounded off into the midst of the grape arbor.  Obviously, something scurried beneath the greenhouse deck which adjoins the arbor and he was giving chase.  That is all good as that is what cats are supposed to do...give chase to critters in the garden.  There are no lazy, lap cats around here just like there are no lazy dogs or people.  If you want to live here, you have to pull your weight.  Unfortunately, Bat did not catch the rat or whatever caught his eye but his attempt did bring to focus something that wholly appealed to me.  The vision was the perfect way to portray the plight of the Bayou in December!

  Hurricane Katrina had donated us several large streetlight domes way back in 2005.  Since the things were unique, I figured that, at some point, I would need to use them for a clue hunt.  I sort of stuck them aside and forgot about them.  Well, one sits atop a short post under the grape arbor.  The vines have twisted and turned about the lamp globe in the most artistic way.  Hmmm...I may just have to leave it be.  It is intriguing now that it has become "one with the scenery".  The abandoned light globe, the bare grapevines and the greyness perfectly depicted the drear of the day.  There was just enough breeze to give the entire thing a sort of unearthly blurriness.  I like it!  In fact, I like it so much that I am tempted to paint this as artwork for inside the Little Bayou House!  Yep, it has been a long two years, folks.   Being isolated has me swimming in weird ideas.  Go figure.

Reality Check

   I am bemused (not to be confused with "amused") by folks who say "I love hurricanes."  Three different people made that statement to me in the past month.  No.  No, you do not.  You may love the excitement that comes with the uncertainty of the storm but have you carefully thought through that statement?  Keep in mind, I am not talking some minor hurricane here but rather something like a Cat. 5 storm. That is not a "likeable" thing.  The loss of life, the total destruction and the misery after the fact is enough for any reasonable person to realize that it is not possible to love hurricanes.  I like a good storm.  Trust me.  When tropical storms come through this area, I admit there is a "thrill" of riding out that entity.  But...ones like Hurricane Katrina are not loveable in any sense of the word.  We stayed for Katrina...we will stay for any others but it was no party, folks.

  

  I wish folks would not claim to love hurricanes.  After going through Hurricane Katrina and seeing the heartbreak in so many folks, there is little to love.   While we had damage to the Little Bayou House (3 trees on the roof, water ruining floors, furniture destroyed and all of our plumbing ripped out), we were fortunate. Others lost everything...many lost their lives.  (And before thinking "Oh, insurance covered it", think again.  Hurricane insurance does not cover the tidal surge that comes with storms.)  So, before making the statement about your love of hurricanes, folks, ride out a Cat. 5 hurricane.  Stay strong when the whole house begins to shake, windows break regardless of having storm shields, trees come through the roof and the storm surge pushes inside. Stay sane through the deafening roar of the winds which seem to be never ending. Stay for the aftermath.  Don't pull up stakes and go somewhere else.  Stay.  Live without the luxury of electricity, running water (think no bathroom) and even phone service...not for a few days, but for months.  Deal with the mountains of debris, the stench of death, the hoards of flies and mosquitoes, the impossible heat and looters trying to steal what you have left.  Push up your shirt sleeves and clean the muck from your home and then go help others do the same.  Console those who have lost everything they owned or even worse, lost their loved ones.  After you do that...then, if you still "love" hurricanes, proudly proclaim it.  Until then, however, it is not a wise thing to spout because someone who has dealt with such is going to take you to task and not be as gentle as I just was.

  Oh, the photos?  Those were of our place after Katrina.  That debris?  In places, it was ten feet deep.  Try digging out from that. Look closely and you will see the roof of the Little Bayou House sticking out among the downed trees in the first photo.  Still think hurricanes are great?  Oh, and before the thought that perhaps we should move occurs...this is our home.  This is not a whiny post but rather a reality check for those who think hurricanes are all fun and games.

To Give You An Idea....

  Sometimes folks that are away from the Coast cannot fathom the destruction brought on by a hurricane.  In fact, they do not even understand why cleanup and repair afterward takes time.  It is not just the wind when you live directly on the water as we do.  That water, itself, is a powerful force to be reckoned with and it does more damage usually than the winds.  The onslaught of a tidal surge literally demolishes anything in its path.  If the wall of water does not finish the job, debris from across the Bay pretty much acts as a battering ram and fells whatever it decides to take.  

  This tidal surge or "wall of water" is just that. It is a churning tempest with enough force to topple a house or dig up huge oak trees.  Depending on the strength of the storm, that wall can be anywhere from a few feet to thirty or forty feet high.  When it comes crashing ashore, nothing stands a chance.

  A few weeks ago, I noticed something odd on my brother's pier.  He had very tall pole put in by the pile-driver but atop that, he had mounted a tall "steeple".  I pondered his thinking and motive behind this monstrosity until Mark and I walked over to his pier.  He explained.  "You see that little red flag about half way up the post?  That is where Hurricane Zeta's surge got.  It was that high!'  We marveled on that but we knew first hand that the water was higher than the weather forecasters predicted.  The hurricane was not one to play nicely.  He continued "Now look way up there at the top.  You see that flag?  That was how high Hurricane Katrina's surge was and it stayed there for eight hours pounding us."   Well, THAT visual brought back the disturbing memories of the longest storm that I have ever endured.  That storm surge hit us at thirty two feet even though the weather experts claimed far less.  That storm water covered our entire hill from the Bay all the way to the road.  Nothing was left untouched by the water.  We found sofas from parts unknown in the tops of pine trees.  In fact, there was a skiff tossed up in the top of an oak tree far behind our house.  That storm was not one that I would ever wish upon anyone.  At least, Hurricane Zeta made a hasty exit.  If it had not, we would have been in far worse shape than we were/are.  The cleanup continues.  

  The visual of the flags on my brother's pier post brings a lot into perspective.  The depth of the water is clear evidence of the strength of the storm behind it.  Neither of these were ones to take lightly.  So there you have it, folks.  This is a clear idea of how high the water gets for those who have never ridden out a storm on the Coast.  Never underestimate a tidal surge.  It can be devastating.

Ticking Like Clockwork

   My new "Learn something new" hobby of antique clock repair is boring to most people.  To be honest, never in my born days, did I think I would take up clock repair but after falling ill, I needed something to occupy the time.  The days dragged into weeks and the weeks dragged into months of recuperation.  My kids kept telling me to "learn something new" as therapy to regain mental dexterity and to "get a new hobby" to help with the physical dexterity.  I merely combined the two.  

  This week saw me tinkering with three different clocks.  All three presented their own set of problems which helped me tremendously.  The first two were simply repaired and are working perfectly.  The third needed more than repairing.  It needed replacing.  The clock is a huge, iron mantle clock.  I sort of inadvertently "inherited" it even though it was in a big mess.  The clock belonged to an elderly cousin who lost her house to Hurricane Katrina.  The tidal surge simply flattened her house and everything in it was completely waterlogged by the briny sea.  After the storm, we tried to help as much as we could even though we had been dealt a mighty blow by the storm.  Mark made trip after trip to the house to retrieve anything that he felt she might be able to use or that could possibly be restored.  Since she had no home, she asked if I could store the stuff for her. The clock was one of the items she kept.  Well, saltwater and iron do not play together nicely and the clock became rusted.  It had not worked for some 50 years anyway but now it was beyond hope.  Later, she told me "If you want that old clock, keep it."  I did.  I am not sure why but I did.

  This week, I took out the clockworks and Mark ordered a replacement of the exact same thing even down to the date (Waterbury 1881).  The works were installed and the clock has been working like a charm since then!  I wish I had been able to repair it when my sweet cousin was still alive but I have a feeling she is pleased as punch that it is finally ticking and chiming.

  Now...now, I am attempting to clean and remove the broken mainsprings of the original clock mechanism.  This one will be a teaching model as I can learn to replace mainsprings and also get a good look at how the things work without fretting about "breaking" something.  This new hobby seems to have taken over my spare time and also made my house a lot noisier!  With fourteen clocks chiming on the hour and half hour and nineteen clocks ticking loudly, it would drive most folks batty.  Not me!  It is relaxing just knowing they are all working correctly!  

  

Hurricanes, Petunias and Pop

  A friend recently told me that it was refreshing to listen to me babble since I seem to be able to find at least some small bit of good in just about anything.  I replied that it was for my sanity.  If I, like most people now, only see and spread the bad, this old world is a goner from my standpoint.  According to even a lot of my family members...everything is bad and they have no problem stirring the pot by posting stuff (even things not true because they are too lazy to verify) on social media.  This merely gives them a sense of self importance as obviously, there is nothing else to occupy their time.  Methinks they need a hobby of some sort other than trying to get folks riled. 

   But, back to my original statement of how I tend to look for blessings instead of curses.  I was out watering the gardens when a lone petunia bobbed its head sweetly at me.  "Good morning, beautiful!" I said.  I figured flowers, at least, are not troublemakers so having a conversation with one is a good thing.  The visit was nice but the dialog seemed to be a bit one-sided.  However!  However, that tiny petunia sure made me think of how blessed I am.  

  Years ago, Hurricane Katrina just about devastated the entire Mississippi Coast and that included my little Bayou.  The tidal surge covered everything in sight and wormed its way into the Little Bayou House.  Winds rattled and shook the house until I thought sure we were soon going to be on a roller-coaster ride northward.  The seemingly endless storm gave us all a renewed look at how precious life really is and how it should not be wasted.  After the winds subsided and the waters receded, the place was in such disarray that we were in shock for days...weeks...months.  We had no running water, no electricity, no way of exiting the Bayou area...nothing for two months.  The place had been ravaged so what did we do?  We pulled up our bootstraps and set to work  Around here, you do not wait on handouts or go around expecting help from anyone.  It does not happen.  Starting at the house and working outward, we cleared the ten foot deep piles of debris from against the house until finally we had a meager yard!  Oh, happy day!  

  It was after clearing a bit that I began to notice tiny plants sprouting where not even a sprig of grass remained.  Watermelon plants!  Cantaloupe plants!  Tomatoes!  Squash!  Beans!  The yard was virtually a huge garden!  Seeds washed in from parts unknown were now sprouting and flourishing in the yard!  The Good Lord was providing food for those in need!  We were able to share our bounty with those who came to the Bayou to ask for a meal.  We had plenty.  Then hundreds of flowers started blooming...everywhere!  Our yard and my brothers' yards were a sea of purples, reds, yellows and pinks! Those were given as food for the spirit!  It was an amazing incident that will not soon be forgotten.

 While the vegetables and many of the flowers were seasonal and never appeared again, the little petunia was a remnant of the blessings of that year.  Now, it serves as a reminder that out of devastation, beauty can appear.  It is there.  The little volunteer petunias show up each spring and earn a place of glory in the gardens.  To me, it is only fitting that the petunia was chosen to be representative of the glorious Hurricane Garden.  Pop always loved his petunias and had just this kind in his gardens.  His guidance still floods through in the form or memories.  "Always look for the good.  It is there.  Sometimes you have to wipe away the grime to find it, though."

Starting Anew

  Storms ravage the Bayou every few years.  Usually, the damage is minimal and we go on about our lives with just a quick cleanup.  Other times, the storm will batter the area and bring great destruction. During those storms, our trees take a beating.  Fifteen years ago, Hurricane Katrina took over a hundred of our trees many of which were here when I was a child.  The place looked barren.  I remember talking with my (then future) daughter-in-law on the phone several weeks after that hurricane.  I was exhausted but that sweet girl kept me going.  She would call from Tennessee every day.   To her, I could bemoan the losses, talk about the destruction and heal with her kind words.  In one of our conversations, I told her how many trees were lost and how the ones still standing were devoid of leaves.  It had saddened me to no end.  Then a few weeks later, it was during one of our phone calls that I spied the first new leaf budding out on a tree.  ""Oh, Joanna!" I literally screamed into the phone before I started weeping uncontrollably.  This caused her great concern.  "What??  What is wrong?  How can I help you?" she quickly asked.  When I finally could blurt out about the new leaf, she wept with me.  We wept with pure joy.  Life was returning to the Bayou.

  Now, fifteen years later, life is still slowly rebuilding.  This afternoon, I slipped on my moccasins and proceeded to walk the shoreline.  There was a bit of a drizzly rain which kept me from fully enjoying the hike but I kept going.  As I pushed my way passed the wild persimmon trees and through some of the thick palmetto clumps, a sight literally took my breath away.  I nigh on started crying with joy again.  The Bayou is healing itself.  The setting sun cast a few rays of light upon a beautiful magnolia sapling.  The little tree stood there in all its glory just waiting to be discovered.  

  I now have a new project in mind.  Even though the little sapling sits far down the hill (almost in the marsh edge), I have a plan to clear the vines and underbrush from around it.  The little tree deserves a fighting chance at survival.  Hopefully, with a little tender-loving care and a bit of fertilizer, the tree can grow strong and withstand any future storms.  Yes, this is fifteen years after the storm and yes, the Bayou should be regrowing by this time but I look at each new tree as a blessing and will treat it as such.  These things are as much a part of my healing as it is the Bayou's.  I need it.  It takes time...sometimes a lifetime.

Its a Start!

  Years ago when Hurricane Katrina whipped through the area, she left little behind that was recognizable.  Things around here were pretty much obliterated.  We were among the fortunate as the Little Bayou House withstood the ravages of the storm.  It had major damage but was still home.  We tore down what was needed, repaired and rebuilt.  The land, however, was in total destruction.  Huge ruts were washed in the hillside, over a hundred large trees were down and there was nary a bit of green left anywhere.  The house has been mostly restored and Mother Nature has done a remarkable job of mending her wounds.  Things are different but the place is pretty much back to normal. Whatever that is.

  One thing that Katrina took was the Spanish Moss that draped each old oak tree.  The moss gave character the the Live Oaks that dot the hillside.  Where and how, the storm took the moss is beyond me.  It was just gone...never to be seen again.  I so missed this icon of the Deep South.  I yearned to have it wafting in the Bay breezes, so much so, that I envied places that still had it and threatened to swipe a bit!  

  I tried draping the moss from a florist shop in the trees but, obviously, that was a moot point.  Their Spanish Moss is treated and is not still living.  I bemoaned the fact that my trees were bare!  Then, the same waters that were churned by the hurricane, brought in a replacement.   Being just a tropical storm, the surge was not nearly as intense as Katrina's but gave just enough high tide to throw a few things into the yard.  As I was cleaning the mess, a bit of tangled moss caught my eye.  Spanish Moss!  A small clump had been flung from a tree across the Bay and rode the waves to the front yard!  

  I was not sure if being dunked in salt water would kill the moss or not but I had to try.  I rinsed the moss and tossed it into the low-lying limbs of my favorite Live Oak tree!!  For months, the tendrils seemed to be drying out which saddened me.  Today, however, a bit of life could be seen returning to the clump!  Oh, my goodness!  It almost felt like I was finally coming home!  

  Hopefully, the Spanish Moss will continue to grow and actually thrive in the oak tree.  It would be grand to have the trees all dripping with the long tendrils of greenish-gray moss once again.  I know it is a small thing but it means the world to me!

Standing strong against the odds

  It is a well known fact that wind can do major damage.  Here on the Bayou, that is quite evident.  We get a lot of hurricanes passing through this way.  The straight line winds push the tides way up and also cause damage to buildings.  This can be devastating, to say the least.  Hurricane winds don't just come in one direction, however.  In fact, while the strongest winds usually are in a direct path, you never really know which direction the gusts will blow.   Plus, most hurricanes have tornadoes mixed in the mess so everything is topsy-turvy.  A hurricane is one big mess of wind coming from just about every direction in any given moment.  Pop always used to say that a hurricane had a mind of its own and you should never take its action as a given.  "Its always going to change and surprise you to the worst."  They do change so never take to the idea that you have one figured out.  You don't. Trust me on that.

  In 1985 a hurricane was playing in the Gulf of Mexico.  It was one of those unpredictable storms that left everyone confused.  The hurricane went this way and that.  It made many turns before setting its sites on a place to make landfall.  On September 2, Hurricane Elena paid us a visit.  The storm made landfall as a Category 3 and pretty much wreaked havoc on the Gulf Coast.  Hurricane Elena spawned many, many tornadoes which decimated everything in their paths.   

  That said, down the hill near where the property meets the marsh, an old oak tree stands.  It has been there for decades upon decades as have most of the other oak trees on the place.  This one particular oak, however, still shows the strength of hurricane winds in its limbs.  It was shortly after Hurricane Elena (and its many tornadoes) that we noticed the evidence that the oak had been caught up in the middle of a cyclone.  Several of its huge limbs were torqued into odd shapes.  The tree was strong and withstood the winds but, to this day, it still bears the evidence of the trauma.  The twisted branches are a reminder not to take the weather for granted.  Mother Nature can release her fury on the Bayou at any time (as in any place) so it makes sense just to be fully aware of what is happening and to be prepared.  

  As I stood looking at the oddly shaped branches today, it came to mind that, while we can prepare for storms, the trees just have to "hold their ground". They are battered by both wind and water but the old oaks do a fine job of being sturdy.  I pondered of how many storms these old trees must have witnessed.  How many times were they bent and broken only to recuperate and thrive again?  Hurricane Elena was bad but how many storms before and how many after were worse?  Hurricane Katrina came along some twenty years later and did her best to decimate the Gulf Coast. The oaks beat the odds against her, too.  Between these two storms many other hurricanes and tropical storms twisted and turned the trees.  The old oaks stood strong against those unpredictable winds that rip, tear, twist and ravage the place.  What mighty trees they are!  I put my hand against the rough bark and wished I could stand so strong against the odds.

There are spiders in there!

  When I was just a wee tot, I was bitten by a spider.  The spider was never identified but I was told it was definitely a spider bite.  That seems to be a reasonable assumption merely due to where I was when I received said bite.  The story begins the day after a hurricane had hit the area.  While the old farmhouse did not receive damage, the trees in the yard took a beating.  Several large trees had been uprooted and left gaping holes in the ground.  For some reason, a large tapestry was draped over the tree limbs to dry.  Ahh, to a tiny kid being told to go play while the adults cleaned up the mess, that tapestry became a tent!  I happily whiled away the hours in my own little world until that fateful moment when something decided that I had been there long enough.  I remember excruciating pain on my knee and, as a tyke would, I went screaming for Mom.  Since doctors were not usually called upon unless you were in dire straits, I had to tough it out.  Mom washed the then rapidly swelling bite.  Pop came in and put some sort of "drawing salve" (which I remember as being black, tar like and smelly) on the spot and then wrapped up my leg with a piece of torn bed sheet.  For the next few hours, I walked around looking like the most forlorn mummy ever to be released on the world.  Later, Pop "operated" on my wound.  A scalded pocket knife did the evil job of lancing the bite and the most acrid smelling ick came pouring out.   More of that black salve was applied and the knee was bandaged again.  All of this was done without any anesthesia.  I was given a new toothbrush to make amends.  Whoopee!  Yay!  Ouch!  I was also reprimanded about not watching out for spiders.  "Stay away from hollow trees and dark holes.  Spiders live there."    So my tent playing was over and I was still mummified for a few days with ragtag bed sheet strings dangling from my knee.  I did, however, recover unscathed except for a small scar left behind by the pocketknife.  This bite was the start of a long line of spiders just waiting to attack!  Since then, I have probably received nigh on 50 bites from one sort of spider or another.  Thankfully, the pocketknife has not been seen as the cure all since that most haunting day.

Looking up into the hollow tree.

  This story came to mind when I had the bright idea to stick my hand inside of a hollow tree today.  Why?  I wanted to see if the tree really was filled with evil spiders just waiting to pounce on unsuspecting folks.  The tree is a large oak that was damaged by yet another hurricane a few years back.  Hurricane Katrina had tossed large mounds of debris in our yard. One piece of that debris was an entire deck from someones house.  That deck slammed against the tree leaving a gaping gash.  The tree did protect the side of the house from being hit by the deck so all was good.  Now, however, that poor tree is hollow and almost dead.  So...curiosity got the best of me. I stuck my camera up in the hole and took a photo.  In fact, I took several since I had no way of telling if I was even focusing on anything.  I fully expected to see all sorts of critters on the photograph but, even though I enlarged it, I found nothing resembling a critter.  No termites...no roaches...no beetles...no grub worms...and, believe it or not...NO SPIDERS!  Well now!  Did I just debunk the well-meaning advice given to me as a youngster or did all critters vacate the premises so they would not be photographed??   I do find it quite odd that I found nary a bug in the tree but, at the same time, I am sort of happy that I did not.  At least, I did not get another spider bite!  

The "Other" Side of September

  For the past few days, my thoughts have been on the arrival of September and what all it brings.  We covered the chive blooms and those pesky love bugs and, of course, the clue hunt decorations.  These are all things that are pleasant in compare to another part of upcoming month.  September sees an upswing in the number of hurricanes that zip across the Atlantic and, unfortunately, sometimes into the Gulf of Mexico.  Those storms are the ones that are worrisome.  Today, all thoughts around the city of Biloxi were centered on the same exact date 13 years ago when Hurricane Katrina ravaged the entire city.  To be honest, there was not a lot left.  But, to be equally honest, there was no doubt that the good folks of the area would pick ourselves up, shake off the shock of what had hit us and get to work rebuilding the place.  We did.  We are all breathing a sigh of relief that August is almost over but....

  Now, with September looming just days away, the tropics are, once again, "heating up".  Things are starting to churn and swell.  Since the Gulf waters are hot, it does not take much for a maelstrom to kick its way into action.  These storms bear watching as any one could veer our way.  

  While the old dog and I sat on the edge of the pier this morning, a low veil of clouds hung on the horizon.  These clouds were hinting of things that might come and come quickly.  So, September, I am onto your shenanigans!  I will keep a weather eye on the horizon!

The Story of A Friendship

  As usual, Mark and I headed to the pier late this evening.  And, as usual, we met up with an old friend.  Just as we stepped up on the pier, Mark called my attention to something almost hidden in a clump of marsh grass.  Ahh, a nutria was devouring the root system of a clump of marsh that had grown almost under the pier.  While Mark stayed with the dog, PJ, I eased my way closer to the animal.  I was not sure how it would react to my presence alone much less to both of us and a large dog.  I started snapping photographs at about fifteen feet from the critter.  The nutria looked at me then returned to her supper.  I eased closer yet.  Once again, the nutria looked at me and started its munching once again.  Hmmm...the animal did not seem one bit frightened.  I eased closer.  This time, the critter eyed me cautiously but kept eating.  The animal was intent on getting its fill this evening.  By this time, I was standing almost directly above the critter.  The pier was about four feet higher than the mudflats where the nutria was dining.  Still, no move was made to escape the monster behind the camera.

  Once Mark and PJ started ambling down the pier, the nutria decided that enough was enough and she moved across the small puddle of water.  She now was about fifteen feet away again.  There, she watched us intently but made no move to scurry into the marsh.  We decided to let her continue her meal of marsh roots.  

  Nutrias do a lot of damage to the marshes along the Gulf Coast.  They have a liking for marsh roots and, once the roots are destroyed, the marsh dies and erosion occurs.  That is generally bad news.  Nutrias reproduce rapidly and when you get hundreds of the rodents in any given area, the damage can be great.  Thankfully, the alligators and eagles keep things in check here on the Bayou.  The nutria, today, was actually doing us a favor.  The marsh she was eating had sprouted up right in the mooring spot of our small skiff.  In fact, the entire canal where the boat is launched into the Bay has overgrown.  As it sits, there would be no getting the boat out from its mooring spot.  The little nutria can munch to her heart's content where she was tonight.  Hopefully, there, she will be safe from predators and will live happily under the pier. 

  As I photographed the nutria this evening, I could not help but to think of another some years back.  When Hurricane Katrina hit the Bayou, she stacked debris up against the Little Bayou House some places ten feet deep.  While we were trying to dig our way out, I could hear a weak cry of some small animal buried deep under the debris.  While searching for the stranded animal, I came across a resin cherub lawn ornament and pulled it from the debris.  Under it, I saw a pair of sad eyes.  Under all of that mess, an infant nutria stared up at me as if asking for help.  I reached down and gingerly picked up the critter.  My heart melted a bit.  I did not need to care for a critter at that time as we could barely take care of ourselves.  "Well, Little One, I will release you back into the Bayou and wish you well but that is about all I can do at the moment." I told it.  Down at the marsh edge, I set the little one in the water and was fully surprised to hear it squeak again.  Then, from the marsh an adult came swimming toward us.  Mama and Baby were reunited after the most destructive storm to ever hit here.  I felt good.  Tears welled up inside me as I stood amidst the total devastation that we were fighting.  I needed to see something positive and it took a pair of rodents to bring that to me.  Maybe that is why I have a soft spot for these critters even though most folks hate them.  

Sit and Wait

  At dawn,  I sat watching the sunrise.  The stillness of the morn allowed me to do a good bit of pondering.  I have been on or near the Bayou my entire life.  As long as I can remember, the family has fished these waters.  The Bay and Bayou provided seafood which combined with fruit and vegetables from the old farm gave us sustenance. Although life was hard, it was good.  By some folks' measure we were dirt poor but we never wanted for anything and were blissfully happy with what we had.  I am still that way.  Blissfully happy with where I am at, doing what I am doing.  Sometimes, I feel that the Bayou has provided me with more than most folks could ever want.  

  As I sat absorbing the beauty around me, another thought crossed the mind.  How quickly this could all change.  As it did with Hurricane Katrina, the weather could pound us with Hurricane Irma.  The serenity which surrounded me this morning could again possibly become the wretched turmoil that battered the Little Bayou House twelve years ago.  Hurricane Irma is not one to take lightly.  This one bothers me...a lot.  

  That said, I pray for those in the path of this evil entity.  I pray that the storm weakens over the next few hours.  I pray that the cold front inching closer to us will push the storm enough that landfall is minimal.  I pray for strength.  

  At the moment, there is nothing to do but watch and wonder.  There is a gnawing feeling in the gut that won't leave.  The could've, would've, should'ves are all worming their way around in the brain.  Instead, we sit and wait.  We wait for a definite or at least a semi-definite track.  If Irma makes its way into the Gulf of Mexico, the waiting game will suddenly become a frenetic pace of storm preparations. For now, however, we wait and ponder.  The Bayou has been good to me but, at times, life is hard.  Sometimes it throws things at you that try you to the core. I will stick with my tried and true method of preparing for the worst and praying for the best.  That is about all we can do in anything.

"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.

Grasshoppers, Hot Peppers and Church Windows

  My hikes about the property serve up some pretty interesting finds at times.  I never know if a critter will be lurking in the palmettos, a new plant will surprise me with a bloom or if the rains will give me another treasure from long ago.  This afternoon was much the same.  Surprises abounded with each turn of the hike.  Grasshoppers, hot peppers and church windows do not have much in common except here on the Bayou.  The common factor?  They (or portions of them) are all found in the back yard.  

  First and foremost, were the grasshoppers.  The Eastern Lubber Grasshoppers are all about business this time of year.  They have just about given up munching the garden and have changed goals to mating and egg-laying.  Hundreds upon hundreds of the adult grasshoppers are out and about the hillside.  Each female has dozens of suitors and eventually will lay about a bazillion eggs.  Early spring finds me doing the familiar "Grasshopper Stomp" (the local dance of gardeners) and each summer finds me doing the "Twist and Turn" as I grind the critters to a pulp.  These critters are aggravating as they literally have enough babies to cover the hillside each spring.  The ground looks like it is covered with a black carpet...a black, wiggly carpet.  So, that said, I try to get rid of as many as possible when they are in the adult phase.

  While smacking grasshoppers, I discovered that my forgotten jalapeno peppers were making more peppers than I can possibly use. They are loaded!  I say forgotten because I truly have not cared for the plants since sticking them in the back garden.  Word of advice...never sow an entire packet of hot pepper seeds unless you truly plan on making hot sauce.  These things never die, never quit making peppers and will be loaded with dozens of peppers at any given time.  I suppose canning hot peppers will be on the agenda soon.

  The discovery of hot peppers led me to realize that the garden was also weedy.  Handfuls of weeds were yanked and tossed the wayside.  While tossing one particularly large wad of weeds out of the garden, a glint of blue caught my eye.  The recent downpours had washed the ground to be clean, white sand.  (This sand was washed in on a hurricanes tidal surge.)  The blue was striking against the white sand so I needed to investigate.  Yep, blue glass.  Blue stained glass that had come in with that beach sand.  When Hurricane Katrina demolished everything across the Bay, it swept it all over to our side.  A good bit of the debris wound up on our property.  As near as I can tell, the shards of stained glass came from windows of churches that were demolished in Biloxi. I gathered a dozen or so pieces of glass from the sand this afternoon.  For the most part, these were blues, greens and purples. Over the past twelve years now (since the storm), I have been collecting the shards of colored glass.  Buckets full of the colorful pieces are stored in hopes that some beautiful craft project will become of them.  It seems to be almost a sacrilege to dispose of them.  Surely some use can be made from the once thing of beauty.  I just have to get creative here.

  So my hike turned into quite the intriguing venture.  Now I have to squish grasshoppers, can hot peppers and be creative enough to recycle some beautiful glass into a treasured piece. It can be done...it can be done.

Katrina....Stop already with the "gifts"!

  Living on a bayou, one expects (or at least should expect) storms to roll in from the Gulf.  Most of these storms are not so severe that the damage is lasting but every so often one will ravage the area. Hurricane Camille was the "benchmark" storm for a long while.   It was the storm that made history.  For years, tales from those surviving the storm were regaled during front porch visits.  Although the farm where I grew up was not right on the water like the Little Bayou House, we did see a good bit of damage from that storm.  Then, along came Hurricane Katrina.  A new benchmark was set.  This was the storm that beat all storms.  It is one that will be in our lore for years to come.  Someone once said that Hurricane Camille killed more folks during Hurricane Katrina than it did when it hit the Coast.  People never expected a storm to be stronger than the one that they survived. I say...never trust a hurricane. (And, for the sake of argument, Katrina did hit here.  We did get the brunt of the winds and surge because we were in the northeast quadrant..the strongest part of any storm.  But we did not get the news coverage that other places did.  So be it.  We survived.)  Hurricane Katrina was one to reckon with and one to deal with even twelve years down the line. 

  Now, dealing with what Katrina left behind is becoming quite evident. The recent rains did not do us any favors.  During the month of June alone, our area received over 24 inches of rain.  Hmmm, that is more than some places see annually.  With the Little Bayou House sitting high on a hill overlooking the Bayou, we had little worries of flooding from these rains.  What did happen was that the torrential downpours washed dirt and sand down into the marsh.  While this is not too bad for the marsh, it is bad for the hillside.  Ruts have been washed wherever there was a lack of good sod.  These ruts now have exposed a previously unseen hazard.  Both of the aforementioned storms dumped tons of debris on our property.  A lot of this debris was covered over with several feet of sand that had been carried on the tidal surge all the way from the beach.  For over a decade now, stuff laid buried beneath the sand and presented no problems.  It would have been great if it had stayed that way.

  This afternoon, I made a quick hike around the hillside.  At one point, I noticed some broken glass in one of the washout places.  As I picked up glass, more became exposed.  Nigh on a gallon bucket of glass shards was in this one area.  I was a bit leery about being sliced by the shards so only those readily reachable were gathered.  Tomorrow, a rake, shovel and bucket will be put to use once again.  One thing that I have learned...it is smart to watch where you step.  Any one of these shards could have easily sliced right through my leather moccasin and punctured my foot.  Above is the first handful of shards that I retrieved on my walk.  I had to go back with a bucket to get more.

  Tomorrow's cleanup (over a decade after the fact) is in preparation of a special visitor to the Little Bayou House.  I will be fostering a dog while my son, daughter-in-law and grandbabies are away for an extended time.  I would hate to think that PJ might cut his foot while he is in my care.  I will have to keep a close watch where he runs....or maybe get him shoes!  Hmmm?  Now that is a thought!  Nah, a good scan of the lower part of the yard on a daily basis will solve the problem.  

Twelve Years Later....

  Living on the Bayou, we get our fair share of hurricanes and other bits of squally weather.  Some storms are worse than others but, in recent history, none have been as severe as Hurricane Katrina.  She packed a wallop when she came ashore back in 2005.  While one would think that by this time, those in the path would have regrouped and all would be well again, that is not the case.  Yep, we suffered right along with everyone else and we, to the best of our ability, have recovered....somewhat.  Now, twelve years later, damage done during or shortly after the storm, is starting to show up on the Little Bayou House.  How is this possible?  Well, like any other home, the Little Bayou House was put together with nails and screws.  Guess what??  Those things rust when subjected to saltwater.  Rusty nails soon lose their strength and start to crumble.  Needless to say, my house is falling apart at the seams!  Plus, due to the mass amount of debris, lumber and damaged trees, termites have just about infested every house on the Coast. No one was excluded from that fine mess.  Come April, May and June of each year since the storm, huge swarms of the critters come out of hiding to send us into hiding.  Termites fill houses, crawl about the furniture and floors, get in your hair, make driving hazardous and even stop sporting events. There are just that many of them.  You cannot even breathe without inhaling a few critters! We, like everyone else on the immediate Coast are battling termites.  Ugh! But it is those rusted nails and screws that have created the current problem.

  As Katrina's storm surge sloshed around under our house and huge waves smashed against the sides of the house, even the inner portions of the home were being treated to a salty bath.  That was the least of our worries at the time.  Priorities had to be set and things were done in an orderly fashion.  First and foremost was to get wiring and plumbing reinstalled.  A lot of that was ripped from the house and, well, it was sort of needed.  Floors had to be removed, walls replaced and then there were the huge (ten to twelve foot tall) mountains of debris that had to be removed from yard.  Once those tasks were completed all seemed to be going swimingly.  But, oh no...the termites made their debut.  Nails and screws were pushed right out of thoughts.  

  Well, to make this long story short, things started happening on the Little Bayou House that were not to our liking.  Those rusted nails and screws started rotting boards.  To fix those, we are literally having to "gut" the Little Bayou House and start over again.  Today, two of my windows in the living room were removed.  This will happen each day until all ten windows and the door are removed, framework rebuilt and then new siding is installed.  My whole place is topsy-turvy!  Things are in a huge mess!  Good thing...huge holes (windows removed) allowed for a nice breeze to blast through the house.  Bad thing...huge holes (window screens removed) allowed for about every mosquito in a ten mile radius to invade my living room!  Hopefully, this ordeal will be righted soon and things can get back to normal around here.  Oh...did I mention?  Hurricane season is upon us once again.  Not fun.

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.

Standing the test of time.

  While excavating the area for the Bog Garden, Son has been uncovering a lot of "treasures" and a lot of "non-treasures" (also known as junk).  When Hurricane Katrina pushed through here years ago, she picked up tons of sand from the beach front miles to our south.  All of that lovely sand was deposited in places like our yard.  This was fine by me as I would much rather have mounds of sand than washed out ruts. In places, the sand was piled up higher than six feet.  Now, years and years later, the sand has leveled to become part of the landscape.  One particularly deep area is where Michael decided the Bog Garden should be so he is digging through not only sand but lots of stuff!

  We were tickled to see just how many plastic yard ornaments were under the sand.  Dozens of three foot tall red and white candy canes were pulled from the area.  These were considered junk and tossed on the trash pile to be hauled to the dump.  Thousands of shards of stained glass were also found and painstakingly collected to be recycled as art pieces.  Stained glass work has always held me spellbound and I can hardly wait to begin creating with these hurricane shards.  Then he found a treasure.....a true treasure.

  A crazy as it may sound, he found a glass canning jar with a zinc lid still intact.  It amazed us that the lid had held tight all of these years underground.  The fun part was that the jar still contained whatever was preserved inside from years ago. Granted the stuff had become a gelatinous, brown liquidy mess but it was still tightly bound inside the jar.  Not being one to waste a perfectly good canning jar (hmmm?), I unsealed the jar to find a substance that was not at all what I expected. I figured that whatever that stuff was, it had to be quite smelly by this time.  It was not.  It smelled highly of blackberry jam!  (No, I did not eat it!)  

  After a bit of scrubbing, the jar and lid came incredibly clean and will soon become a container for buttons or beads in the craft room.  "Waste not, want not."  comes to mind.  I figure if the jar withstood a hurricane of Katrina's strength and then ten years buried in salty sand, it has a story to tell and should be added to the collection of weird and wonderful things housed within the Little Bayou House.

Riding the Whirlwind

   It is late evening on a cool, crisp night here on the Bayou.  All is quiet. It is Christmas Eve and I have settled in by the old wood stove to listen to nothing save the crackling of the flames.  This is the new Christmas Eve for me.  With the kids all grown and with families of their own, Old Santa has no stockings to fill at the Little Bayou House.  The tree is decorated as is the whole house but what used to be a huge mound of gifts beneath the tree has dwindled to a few meager packages.  There is no last minute wrapping or secretive stashing of gifts.  So, I settle in to listen to the fire with a sense of satisfaction that my job is done and it is all in my kids' hands now.  Old Santa is a new generation.

  Speaking of Santa, did you know that he comes riding in on many ways?  That sleigh is not the only means of transportation for the Jolly Old Elf.  I am sure that you have seen the many depictions of him on reindeer, white horses, dog sleds, skis, rockets, planes, trains, ships and any other movable object.  Yep, Santa Claus really does have a lot of methods of transportation.  Still, there is one tale of his travels that is quite unheard and, yet, quite unique.  He sometimes rides in on hurricanes!  Hurricane Katrina brought Old Kris Kringle to the Bayou nigh on a decade ago!  

  The day following that devastating storm saw us (like most Coast folks) trying to dig out from beneath a mountain of debris.  Huge mounds nearly ten feet deep were stacked against the house and as far as one could see.  This debris contained everything that fell in the pathway of that demon as it plowed its way to our house.  If you could name it or describe it, we could find it in this mess.  Most of it was destroyed beyond use but other things would take you by surprise...as did Santa. Down in the creek behind the house, I found a small knickknack still intact.  I was amazed to find a porcelain figurine without even a chip or scratch.  This was a Christmas decoration featuring Santa Claus and a group of children.  The figurine was sitting on top of a pile of debris as if someone had gently set it there for me to find.  I needed to find it.  I needed a bit of happiness in the midst of all the turmoil.  I needed a reason to smile.  I needed Santa Claus and five happy little kids.  Santa came in August that year and he came in on a hurricane's tidal surge.  (I guess that gives a new meaning to "riding out the storm"!)

  In the Little Bayou House, most things have a tale behind them.  It makes the place interesting.  I keep these oddities on hand merely because of the memories...some good...a few bad.  This Jolly Old Saint Nick is a good one.  Sure, it was the most terrible of hurricanes that brought the thing to me but it is the bit of happiness that I recall....the bit of light in the darkness...the hope for Christmases to come...the peace in the wake of the storm.  Some times it is the oddest of things that can bring a smile.

  Merry Christmas from the Bayou to each of you, my friends.  May God bless you and bring you many reasons to smile tomorrow morn!  Happy Christmas to all and to all a good-night.