The Return Of The Greenhouse...Somewhat

   Well, the greenhouse is now probably more of a shed.  Since Hurricane Zeta decided that a roof nor windows were needed, it had to have a complete makeover.  Instead of greenhouse roofing, which obviously does not withstand hurricane force winds, I have a regular roof.  Son and I went to the lumberyard, purchased some rolled roofing and he installed it today.  It is so nice to not have a leaky roof!!!  Now, to get to work on replacing the windows.  At least, there is no more deteriorating plastic tarping as an eyesore.  Hurricanes are no fun when it comes to cleanup.

  The greenhouse (as is) will at least suffice as a snug winter home for the potted plants.  It probably will not do well for starting seeds as the lighting will be almost nil.  I suppose the installation of growlights might remedy that problem but getting an early start on seedlings is not of high priority any longer.  I mainly need a place to overwinter plants.

  I will miss my sweet little "hideaway" in the two photos above, however.  I so enjoyed working in the greenhouse and being in the bright, sunny room.  Now, it will feel more as if I am stuck inside of a shed.  Perhaps, I can get creative with paint on the inside to make it a bit more appealing.  Other than being elated to have a nice roof and getting the greenhouse back in order, it will be nice to have this repaired for any future Clue Hunts on the Bayou.  It has been transformed into anything from a medieval forge to a conservatory to a swamp witch shanty.  It is back! 

Lemons!

   It has been a year since Hurricane Zeta did a number on our greenhouse (I use the word greenhouse loosely here as it is more like a very windowy shed).  The roof was gone and a lot of the windows were busted but other problems got in the way of repairing the greenhouse.  The house, pier and yard needed to be tended to before the greenhouse.  Finally, Son has found the time to reroof the building.  Next will come the window repairs.  For now, however, I am simply ecstatic to have a roof going in place.  

  While I was out trying to "help" remove what old roofing was still in place a few days ago, I noticed that the lemon trees were loaded with fruit.  What I thought was going to be a bleak year for citrus fruit seems not to apply to the lemons trees.  Even though these trees are in pots (due to repair work around the house causing me to dig the trees), they are flourishing.  This may make me rethink about planting them in the ground again.  Maybe larger pots?  

  I have been pondering a way of overwintering avocado trees in pots so perhaps the same can be done with the citrus trees.  The large ones can stay in the ground but maybe a few in pots under a protective roof would be the way to go.  We may not have much in the way of oranges, grapefruit and satsumas this year but it seems as if we will have plenty of lemons!

Best Prepare NOW!

   Well, now.  It appears that yet another hurricane will soon be forming in the Gulf of Mexico which does not bode well for the Coast.  At the moment, the forecasts call for it to make landfall just west of us which puts us in that upper right quadrant also known as "the bad side".  Hopefully, it will be just far enough away that the bad side is also west of us but, then, that puts my good friends in Louisiana at risk.   Those poor folks do not need another just like we do not.  But...that all comes with the territory.  Ask any "true" Coastian and you will hear the same answer..."You get used to it."  That answer is deadpanned without any emotion whatsoever.  We get used to it.

  Still, I am really just now making noticeable progress against the blow that Hurricane Zeta dealt us.  Zeta pounded the Bayou with terrific winds and tidal surge. (The photograph below is from the day after Hurricane Zeta.)  Thankfully, it blew right on through without lingering.  Had the hurricane slowed its pace and sat on top of us a while, things would have been far worse.  That is all we can hope with this one which is predicted to become Hurricane Ida overnight.  Son and I worked today to get things in order.  The mandatory shopping trip to stockpile a few necessities, the preliminary yard clearing and checking on neighbors.  The window coverings are still in place since Tropical Claudette so that chore is done.  If Hurricane Ida strengthens there will be some added bracing to be done and the small skiff will have to be hauled ashore.  Our day tomorrow will most likely be spent helping other prepare.  

  Folks, take these storms seriously.  So what if you prepare then the hurricane turns the other way?  So what if you prepared for a hurricane and the storm comes in as a tropical storm.  So what if you go out of your way to help others?  It is the right thing to do.  It is the smart thing to do.  Just do it.

Listen to that inner voice!

   Well, it all came crashing down...but, at least, it was not around me.  That being a play on a widely used phrase about things going wrong.  Instead of going wrong, this actually went right but it did crash.  Even though I have a thing about getting up before dawn and wandering the hillside as the sun rises, I was still in bed at 5am. For some odd reason, I just did not really want to get up.   Something told me that I needed to stay in bed.  The old clocks had just started their round of chimes when I heard a tremendous crash.  What was that????  Grabbing a flashlight, I hopped out of bed and headed to the front door.  I peered outside.  The sun had yet to brighten the horizon but the full moon made things eerily light.  I did not want to wander too far as I was still barefooted but I could see there was nothing amiss in the Small Gardens.  Whatever made the crashing sound had to be further away from the house.  I headed back inside to make coffee and wait for daylight.

  Along about 6am, I, again, ventured outside.  It actually took me a while to realize that the crashing sound was made by a pine tree falling to the ground.  The tree had been severely damaged by Hurricane Zeta but had gotten hung up in a hickory tree and not fallen.  Well, it fell.  The hickory tree had finally had enough of that extra weight and gave loose.  Several limbs broke allowing the pine to hit a live oak tree.  It snapped the live oak off about 30ft up and everything hit the ground...the pine, the hickory limbs and the top half of the oak tree.  What a mess!  

  I am thankful that I was not outside in that area when the tree decided to fall.  It could have proved quite dangerous.  I guess it is wise to listen to the inner voice when it tells you "Get back in that bed."  

For All These Years

   Hurricanes work a number on the shorelines and marshes down here.  If the storm surge hits and lasts for any length of time, erosion is a big problem.  While the winds and higher surges wreak havoc on the homes and trees, even tropical storm waters can demolish the marshes and shorelines.  Those same waters can uncover "treasures" that have lain hidden for decades.  Such was the case with Hurricane Zeta.  Even after all of these months after the storm, I am still finding unusual items that are now exposed.

  Just the other day, I was traipsing probably just a little too close to the marsh.  With the warm weather, moccasins are out and about.  I should have more sense but figure that I would smell a snake if it was in the vicinity.  That said, thankfully, I did not find one on that hike.  I did, however, find a treasure.  The storm waters had uncovered and floated in a half-gallon milk bottle.  It is unusual to find one that is not chipped or cracked but this one was in pristine condition!  Darling Daughter is now the proud owner of this treasure!

  Over the years, I have found many such glass milk bottles.  Just down the shoreline to the west, my grandfather owned and ran a dairy.  Pop and his brothers and sister grew up on that dairy farm.  Pop used to tell me that when he and his brothers would work the fields or go hunting, they often grabbed a bottle of milk to drink.  Jars were often forgotten in the fields or woods.  Of course, those tidal surges probably took a lot of bottles out into the Bay only to be washed up again in the marshes.  The one I found was filled with mud so I figure it has been in that marsh for nigh on seventy years!  What a treasure to find!

Help Comes In All Shapes

   This past year has been a rough one in so many ways...not just for me but for people everywhere.  While others faced a world-wide pandemic, I faced more personal storms in the way of illness and, well, storms.  Generally, the year 2020 has officially been marked down as a pretty rotten year for most folks.  Still, we have to look at things in a different perspective if we ever wish to get past our troubles.  I, for one, refuse to let things linger long. 

  All along the top edge of one section of the garden fence, there are dozens of cormorant feathers tucked safely in between the wire and railing.  Why?  Well, it all started as a way of coping with the massive cleanup after Hurricane Zeta.  I had found a long, black feather in the debris.  Not thinking much about it since surely a few feathers were lost during the storm, I stuck that feather into the crevice of the bark of a pine tree.  I promptly forgot about the feather until I found another.  That, too, was stuck in the tree bark.  Then another...and another.  About this time, Son was becoming a bit confused and questioned my actions.  Flippantly, I replied that I was saving the feathers in case I came across the whole bird.  "The bird will need its feathers once I find it!"  It had already become clear that the bird had not survived.  As I worked, I kept poking feathers along the tree trunk. It was Son who first stuck one in the garden fence and I soon followed suit.  Thus, our feathered fence became a thing.

 After a few days, finding and collecting the feathers sort of blocked out the reality of the devastation around us.  We could focus our attention on retrieving the feathers and not the huge piles of debris.  Silly?  Probably to most folks but to us, it was simply an act to relieve stress.  (It still saddens me that the bird perished during the storm.)  Now, the top of the fence proudly wears the feathered crown and I am reminded to not let stress get to me.  I assume that the feathers will stay as long as Mother Nature allows them to do so.  The wind and rain have split and curled the feathers into curious shapes so that now they are more of a point of interest in the yard...a point of interest that saved a bit of my sanity.

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.

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.

Making Use Of What Is There

   The other day, I made mention of pine gum and a healing salve made from the stuff.  Well, a slow hike around the property led to me finding my sap.  Hurricane Zeta (and the many, many other storms this year) damaged so many of our trees that the sap was an easy find.  I was able to ethically gather nigh on a half cup with no problems.  I am sure the felled pines will not be needing the sap as we will be cutting them out of the live trees.  My only problem is that the half cup is not enough for what I planned on making.  

  The salve is made by melting and blending the sap chunks in an infused carrier oil then having beeswax added to set the balm.  It is an easy, albeit, time consuming task.  You NEVER heat the pine sap and oil over high heat!  That would be just asking for trouble.  Everyone knows that pine gum will flame up in a heartbeat and adding oil to it just makes that a bigger potential.  Since I needed to be in the same room at all times, I used a tiny cast iron cauldron on the old wood-burning stove.  That way, I could do my painting project within a few feet of the stove and keep watch on my concoction.

  Like I said, my first effort did not make as much as I preferred so I will visit the downed pines again to gather what I can.  In fact, I am thinking a drip pot would be a wise idea.  I could catch the sap continuously throughout the day and night.  In the meantime, however, I will be satisfied with my small "half" jar of salve.  Life is good when you can make your own!  

Just do it

   After Hurricane Zeta hit us with full force, we had more work than we could shake a stick at.  It was overwhelming especially since I was still recovering from the stroke and heart problems.  I was told to "take it easy", "do not overwork" and "let others help".  Well, that is all fine and dandy except, there was no time to take it easy and was virtually impossible not to overwork.  That part about "let others help"...well, no one did.  Son and I had to do it.  We struggled and are still neck deep in debris and repairs.  We will get there.  Today, however, was spent more in helping others.  Why?  Because that is what we do.  Bayou people help others. It is the neighborly thing to do.

  Several large trees were downed on my brother's place.  He is not in the physical condition to clean up the mess so, since Mark was home, he decided to cut the downed trees.  We would just clean up the place.  No problems.  Mark cut the huge tree and Son split the logs with the axe.  I tried to help load the smaller ones but, once again, am under orders not to do much.  While cutting, Mark had the idea that my other brother could use some of the firewood.  So...he cut, Son split and loaded wood for that brother.  After several hours, the place was cleared, the firewood was all cut, loaded, hauled and stacked and we were exhausted, yet again.  

 Folks, while we are an independent sort and will get our work done without the "let others help" crew that never shows, there are those who occasionally need a helping hand.  They do not ask.  They, too, try to fend for themselves.  This is where kindness and generosity come into play.  Just do it.  Do not wait to be asked.  Just do it.  Do not expect anything in return.  Just do it.

My Favorite!

   Hurricane Zeta did a number on all of my plants.  The vegetable garden fared the best as the cabbages were still tiny but all of the flowering plants took a beating.  I started to move many into the greenhouse but, since the storm ravaged it, the plants still would not have been safe.  Two plants that were smashed were the Christmas Cacti.  I fretted over the fact that they were ruined but, with the work ahead of us, I immediately forgot about them.  Now, I find that the smashed plants are blooming!  I was amazed!  The pale pink one was sitting in the entryway window when I first noticed it.  The sun was pouring through the window and illuminating the blooms!  What a sight!  So, of course I had to photograph the plant.

  The pictures turned out far better than I had hoped.  Since the room is painted a very, very dark color (almost black), the blooms almost appear to be glowing.  This is probably my favorite photography "trick"...dark background and brilliant natural light spilling onto the subject.  The effect creates a striking photograph.  Of course, this is one of those "right place at the right time" moments and I do not get them often.  When I do, I have a tendency to take far too many pictures.  I will stay until the light fades which is usually only a couple of minutes.  In those few minutes, however, I will take forty or more shots of my subject. 

  The Christmas Cactus did its part to bring a smile so I hope the photograph will as well.  This was my favorite of the bunch.  Enjoy!

Well, there you are!

   Since Hurricane Zeta demolished the pier, we have been trying to salvage what boards we can from the debris line.  Not only are we salvaging our planks, but we find a lot of my brother's pier parts in our yard (and he finds a lot of ours over his way!)  We merely set his aside and he comes to retrieve them.  Son does the same.  It is not an easy task and we still have a long ways to go before we can say we are finished.  We may never be finished.  It is that big of a mess.  That is fine and dandy.  I take my time and try to do what I can each day.  Some days it is more than others.  I do find it very disturbing that the very people who want to use the pier will never show up to lend a helping hand to restore it.  This has made me realize that saying "No" to wannabe visitors is not wrong.  If you cannot help, then you do not need to be here.  Simple fact.

  If there is not enough aggravating things about hurricanes, I have found quite another.  Those goofy storms love to play "Hide and Seek" with items.  My brother came over a couple of weeks ago in search of a huge plank from his pier.  He measured this one and that one but never found the right one. We figured that the plank had made its way to some other shoreline.  No problem.  He would just make do with another. He did make the offer for Son to come look at some of the planks he found.  "They may be yours or, at least, they may work for your pier."  We never thought much more about the missing plank.

  Early this afternoon, Son and I were meandering the debris line taking stock in what the chores will be for the next week.  While he pulled a plank, I stared out over the Bayou.  "Son, what is that across the way?"  He looked and had to start laughing.  "Well, there you are!"  I looked bepuzzled so he explained.  "I think THAT is the missing plank!"  Ahh, well that explains a lot!  We began looking in the Bayou some more and, lo and behold, found our missing planks, as well!   Some he will be able to retrieve by simply traipsing out on the marsh clumps but others will need a boat.  Crazy old Zeta!!!  It is bad enough that you ripped up the pier but you did not need to hide stuff from us!  I guess next month will see us with rubber boots making our way out in the marsh and back in the creek bed to see what else Zeta stole!  Always something.

He's Thinking....

   Since Hurricane Zeta literally took out the entire pier...planks, stringers, runners, a lot of the posts...Son is having to start from the ground..errr..mud...up.  After putting in several posts and adding the stringers, it comes time to add the long joists between the posts.  These are huge boards that are about 14ft in length and some are 3 inches by twelve inches.  That is a lot of board.  It is too much board for one man to handle by himself but Son does.  He has to move the planks from the top of the hill all the way down through the marsh to the section he is rebuilding.  It is not easy work.  I offer to help but, since the body refuses to work correctly at times, he flat out refuses.  So, he works alone.

  Son has figured a system that seems to work for him.  Since we have no "cart" that will suffice moving the long planks, he has devised one.  He uses a dolly...backwards.  Yep, backwards than what is intended.  The dolly is laid flat on the ground, the plank is placed on top running "up" the handle and secured with a tie-cable.  Once the board is tightly bound, Son merely picks up the loose end and wheels his prize to the pier.  There, however, things get difficult.  The dolly cannot be used since the ramp is missing.  Son has to carry the board all the way to the far end of the pier.  Then, he has to slosh around in the mud while attempting to hoist the heavy thing into place.  I watch and feel helpless.  He claims it is better to think before trying to do things and I do believe he has it down to a science.  I stand amazed.

  

All For The Sake Of Photography!

 (In case anyone is noticing missing posts and odd timing, our internet is spotty, at best.  Hurricane Zeta dropped a tree on the cable line and electrical lines.  It still has not been repaired despite the power pole being broken.  We have power but whenever rains come, the Internet does not wish to work.  Bear with me.)

  Pop always told me "If you go around looking for problems, you will find them. Instead, you should look for solutions."  Granddad added to this that "Instead of looking for a single solution, look for all solutions as there are usually many."  Granted, for a while, I was confused.  Being a kid, a lot of teachings went above my head.  I did not understand the point.  The ideas, however, stuck.  All of these teachings were tucked far back into the dark corners of my brain.  There, among the cobwebs, they were, not only stored, but mulled over and instilled to be used at a later date.  Now that I am older (old), I understand.  What those two men tried to teach me was more important than learning verbs, or dates or algebra.  Find every solution possible so if one is not feasible at that time, another is fully within reach.  Smart men.

  Early this morning, the sky was incredible.  I stood awestruck at what almost looked like a painting.  No, the brilliant hues were not present as the sun refused to show from behind the heavy clouds.  There was enough light, however, to have the "layers" of clouds sharply illuminated.  Without the pier being usable due to repairs being made, I had to ponder another way to get my photographs.  That "single solution" (the pier) being out, I had to look at all possibilities.  Other options were available.  I could traipse out into the marsh but the water was too deep and I would sink waist-deep into mud.  I could hike to the neighbor's pier as it did not get damaged by the hurricane but...that would be trespassing and, well, they may not approve.  Or...I could climb the oak tree and take the photo from the long branch that sits over the marsh.  Yes, I could.  Yes, I did.  Yes, I got my photo (and a few bruises).  Obviously, old ladies should not be climbing trees.

  I had to giggle when I clambered back down the tree.  Pop and Granddad probably did not have such intentions when they told me to examine all angles as there are many solutions.  At least, I did not look at this as a problem and find it troublesome. I looked for the solution and found many.  I opted for the one I deemed the best and I am pleased with the results.  Just so you will know, I did find that my tree climbing skills greatly lack at this age and vowed to avoid doing it again, if all possible.

Seeing Possibilities

   The back is sore!  After clearing the remaining small gardens and upper hill of debris, I pushed a lawnmower for a couple of hours.  This was to mulch the small stuff that remained after removing anything that was too large for the mower.  By late morning, I was ready to move onto a new chore,  There was a huge pile of firewood that needed to be stacked.  Mark had used the chainsaw to cut up four of the felled trees on the lower part of the hill.  The logs had to be hauled up the hill and then stacked neatly for the winter.  This will be used in the two wood-burning stoves that heat the Little Bayou House. 

  While stacking the wood, the mind is free to ramble as it may.  It was during those ponderings that I realized, at least, Hurricane Zeta gave us warmth for the winter.  It is often hard to find any good point about storms but, if you search long and hard enough, you can find that all is not bad.  It is all a point of perspective.  If you look at the destruction and see bad, it will be bad.  If you look at it and see possibilities, they will arise.  I prefer the latter.  The gardens are being redesigned, the greenhouse roof is being improved and the pier is being rebuilt sturdier.  In fact, the entire place is getting a "makeover"!  Storms give us that opportunity.  Otherwise, we get lackadaisical and tend to shrug off some chores "to another day" or we wait for the elusive "round to it".  

  

MUD!

   If there is one thing frustrating about hurricane debris cleanup, it is the fact that it is dirty work.  Literally, it is dirty, nasty work.  I am not speaking of repairs here, just cleanup.  Those who do not live on the water cannot understand the extent of what needs to be done.  Ninety percent of inland cleanup is downed trees.  Here, we have everything that used to be in the Bay in our yard.  Marsh, garbage from other folks, mud, dead critters, nets and, oh, did I mention, MUD??  Now that it is a month into cleanup, things are not much better.  In fact, I would venture to say, my part is worse.  I am the "mulcher" of the debris after everything is pulled from the piles.  Great when wet, horrible when dry. We are in the midst of a drought so the mulch grinds to dust.  That fine dust makes breathing horrendously hard!  Son, on the other hand, still has mud...stinky, oozy mud.  He is dismantling the pier and salvaging what is halfway decent.  He is sloshing around in mud up to his knees to do this.  Not a fun job.

  This afternoon, I took off a few hours to work in the vegetable garden.  Those chores still have to be done regardless of how tired we may be from the other.  When I finished and came to the doorway, I saw what seemed to sum up the day's work.  Son's mud-covered shoes were sitting on the steps. He had tried washing the shoes with the water hose but the mud refused to budge.  The shoes looked weary.  We are weary.  There is no end in sight.  Tomorrow will be much the same as will every day for the next couple of months until the mountains of debris are gone, the pier is rebuilt and the yard is somewhat back to normal.  Life goes on even for those exhausted by what stands before them.  

Hurricane "Gemstones"

  After any storm (especially hurricanes), you can expect to find any number of items in the yard and marsh.  The tidal surge washes in new stuff from across the way and old stuff that has been deep in the marsh from storms past.  When the winds are from the right direction and the surge is pounding, whatever gets caught up in the turmoil is deposited on our place.  Sometimes, even treasures can be found!  This morning, I found such a treasure that rode the winds of Hurricane Zeta.

  Down along the marsh edge, there are any number of scraggly oaks, bay trees and salt myrtles.  Most of these are low-growing and catch the brunt of both wind and surge.  At daybreak, I was meandering the shoreline on a daily hike.  As the sun rose over the pines on the opposite side of the Bayou, bright beams were being shot through the tree limbs.  Suddenly, the sun was at the right angle and I was in the right spot to reveal one of the treasures.  A bright blue gleam among the tree limbs caught my eye.  I figured it was hurricane debris but had no idea just what had hung up in the tree until I squirmed my way through the underbrush. 

  A shred of blue plastic had snagged onto a twig and held on throughout the storm.  Somehow, it did not tear any further and so remained in place.  The sunbeams passing through the plastic made it look like a bright gemstone.  There was my "treasure"!  While I realize the plastic is worthless and is an eyesore during most of the day, in the morning, it gives me a much needed smile.  For a few moments, I am not standing in the midst of debris, the stench is not overbearing and the hillside does not look in shambles.  With the blue "gemstone" hanging in the treetop and being backlit by the sunbeams, I am in a wondrous place where life is good and all things are happy.  Folks, look for the gemstones in the midst of the chaos going on in the world...even if those gemstones are only momentarily there and are tiny shreds of plastic.  Be happy.  Find the magic.

Life After A Hurricane

  I often ponder what stories could be told if only other things could communicate with us or, perhaps, if we could communicate with them.  This has become more taxing on the brain with each added year.  This year, most people have been complaining on just about everything under the sun.  That whining actually includes the sun as one person said "Grade school was a lie!  I just found out that the sun is really a white star and not an orange or yellow planet."  Alrighty, then.  (Thought processes baffle me.)  Sorry, but if you are in your sixties and just found out that you have been using the wrong crayon all these years, your grade school probably was a bust.  Pondering that, also.

  But back to things talking with us.  With the "after hurricane" drought upon us, it was prudent that I take a few moments to water the plants....or what is left to the plants in the yard.  One leaf caught my attention as it appeared to be trying to communicate...if you use that thing called an imagination.  (Some folks seem to have outgrown theirs but mine runs rampant at times.)  A rather large leaf on the rubber tree appeared to have some sort of weird writing on the back.  Maybe the plant was trying to tell me how terrific the storm had been and how heroic it was to have survived despite being caught right in the middle of it.  Or, perhaps, it was reprimanding me for leaving it to fend for itself in such destructive weather.  

  Truth be told, the leaf bore the scars of debris that zinged into by the fierce winds.  It always amazes me how resilient plants are during catastrophic weather events.  Most will be stripped of leaves or will be left in tatters, yet, given time, they will shoot out new growth.  Here it is just weeks after a hurricane and the pear tree has blossoms, the Confederate Rose has many buds and a beautiful bloom and the rubber tree is setting new leaves.  Life goes on.  Mother Nature does not let things just give up.  The will to survive is incredible.

The Tempest And The Tree

   What you find in the debris during a hurricane can pretty much tell the severity of the blow.  Usually, we find a "wake-line" of dead marsh mats, boards, trash and small pieces of driftwood.  If a storm of a Category 4 or 5 comes, the tidal surge brings heartbreaking stories in the form of people's homes, businesses and the possibility of finding one not so fortunate.  Thankfully, the only deaths on the Bayou have been critters and not humans.  The stronger the storm, the greater the chance of others' belongings being washed ashore here or in the shallows of the Bayou.  After Hurricane Katrina, boats, sides of houses, furniture and even a refrigerator truck came into the yard.  Sofas were hung in the tops of trees and whole decks were laid against the house.  We were fortunate that Hurricane Zeta came in as a Category 2 and whipped itself right out of here with great speed.  The wake line contains the marsh mats and boards but very few other items.  

  One of the more interesting (and beautiful) items to sit in the front yard compliments of Hurricane Zeta is a very large piece of driftwood.  The thing is about five feet in length and perhaps has a diameter of almost fifteen inches.  It has beautiful knot holes and stubby limbs.  The driftwood piece is hollow and has been smoothed by the tide waters.  The wood is remarkably clean so the grain can be easily seen.  

  One thing that interested me was how many hurricanes this once massive tree had seen.  It is obvious to note that the winds were not easy on it.  The entire piece was once twisted mercilessly by the winds.  The woodgrain wraps around the tree instead of being straight. It is a beautiful piece and should have a place to show its glory.  Either this piece will find its way up the hill to the Little Bayou House or will be carted to my brother's place across the way.  We both find the piece interesting.  Either way, the driftwood will finally find a home after so many years being tossed and turned by a tempest.