Hurricanes, Shrimp, Gars and Childhood Memories

   Since Son has completed the repairs on the pier, fishing, shrimping and crabbing have resumed.  It is almost unheard of to have so much activity going on in the Bay and Bayou...at least, in recent years.  The last time that I recall catching this many shrimp from a pier was way back in the late '60s.  Right before Hurricane Camille hit when I was just a kid, Pop was bringing home buckets and buckets of shrimp that he caught with his net.  Then...along came the hurricane and we were in a fine fix.  This was before the handy-dandy generators that are so popular today.  Pop rigged up a homemade "generator" of sorts from an old lawnmower engine to run our pump but it did not supply enough energy to keep the freezers going.  What was Mom to do with a freezer full of quickly thawing shrimp?  Of course...feed the linemen that were trying their best to restore the electricity to our house!  Pop built a makeshift outdoor burner (wood fired) and brought out the huge canning pots to boil shrimp.  Living on a farm, we had plenty of potatoes and eggs to make potato salad and supply other veggies as sides.  Word got out that we had homecooked meals and the hungry workers were soon feasting.  Mom and Pop both said that those were the "best parties" they ever hosted!  Plus, the hundreds of pounds of shrimp did not go to waste!

  Memories of the shrimp feasts came tumbling from the brain as I casted the net for yet more shrimp the other morning.  Our freezers are full.  Our kids' freezers are (or will be once they come) full.  We have supplied our elderly friends with enough peeled shrimp to give them multiple meals.  Plus, extended family members have received their shares.  Still...I catch.  Mark catches.  We both head and peel the shrimp and feed the needs of so many.  It is a good feeling.

  Along with those pounds and pounds of shrimp, the fish are biting so I always throw out a line as I am shrimping.  Mark usually heads out in the little skiff but I stay back on the pier.  While he is catching redfish and trout, I catch nothing but gars!  It seems that young gars are following the schools of shrimp so the other fish are staying a bit further out.  I kept seeing huge breaks in the water just at the shoreline so I figured perhaps the redfish were dining on shrimp.  Nope...gars.  Just gars.  Do I want a gar for anything?  Nope...not at all, so they get released back into the Bay.

  Those gars even brought back a memory of a "fishing trip" with two of my brothers.  They had found a scuttled boat and tried to make repairs.  Well, those repairs were not the best since they were done by two kids.  Still, I was game to go along with the adventure when they asked.  I was plum happy to be going with my big brothers ANYWHERE!  Little did I know we were going gar fishing on the other side of the Bayou.  They had seen some huge gars there and thought it might be fun to wrestle in one.  Also, little did I know that I was to be designated as "chief bailer".  After paddling to their fishing spot, I was handed a coffee can and told to bail out the water that was steadily seeping into the boat.  Ummm...a little girl with a tin can is not much defense against a myriad of leaks in a boat but I was too scared of the huge gars they were hooking to do anything but bail!  Obviously, there was a good reason that boat had been scuttled!  Oh, the things kids used to be able to do.  Back in the day, we were kids.  We had adventures.  We had childhoods. 

  It is pretty funny how certain things can pull memories out of the cobwebs in the corners of our brains.  When you are doing something repetitively like throwing the net, the mind wanders and recalls delightful things from the past...or, more likely, I am just getting old and wishing for times past.  Either way, the fish, shrimp and crabs are plentiful and I plan on catching and sharing as many as I can.  Perhaps along the way, I can share a few happy memories, as well.

Bye, Bye Greenhouse!

   Way back a few years, one of the first repair/building projects Son attempted was to turn a walk-through arbor into a greenhouse.  This was no easy task as the arbor was only 6ft wide and built on a slope. Still, he thought it could be done and, so, he did it.  He extended the width by adding more posts and cross pieces, used reclaimed windows that were given to us and some corrugated plastic roofing.  I loved my little "rough" greenhouse and so did my plants!  We all were happy campers with the time spent there together. This greenhouse also became an integral part of each annual Clue Hunt on the Bayou for the next 8 years. It was everything from a conservatory to a blacksmith shop!  Then came Hurricane Season 2020 and its incessant battering of the place.  We seemed to catch more storms that year than in any other.  One in particular lent a bashing to the greenhouse and my heart was broken.  Other things were more important at the time so the repairs were delayed until this month.  Since the roof and windows took a beating, Son decided to build a "temporary greenhouse" for the plants and a "swamp shack" for me.  A permanent roof replaced my light, airy, clear roofing and windows were reconfigured.  Goodbye, Greenhouse.  Sad...happy...all at the same time.

  While the little building is a work in progress, I did decide to put a coat of paint on the outside.  The rough planking reminded me of the old, cypress planks on Pop's shed so I tried to match the paint to what I remembered it looking like.  It is not perfect but once it weathers, it should be close.  Son still has to complete the back window and then do something with the floor but, so far, the little shack is giving me a whirlwind of ideas of how it is to be used.  One thing is for certain!!  The menfolk around here are NOT going to pile it full of their clutter!  Swamp shacks should be interesting not filled to the brim.  So long, Greenhouse.  You were perfect when first built but had seen better days.  Hello, Swamp Shack!  You and I have a lot of planning to do!

The Pier is Complete! Thanks, Son!

   I am in hopes that the tropical systems in the Atlantic and Caribbean do not decide to come here.  We do not need a storm.  One year of peace would be most delightful especially since I am still clearing debris from past ones. The older I get...the longer it takes.  I am getting old.  It is taking forever to do what was simple at one time.  

  The fact that I do not wish to have the cleanup afterwards is only part of the reason that a storm is not welcome here.  When Hurricane Zeta poured out a heaping amount of chaos on the pier, we also lost the pier benches and fish-cleaning table.  Those, we never found.  I suppose someone inherited some quite handy items, if they are like us and reuse things.  Son repaired the pier but never had a chance to rebuild the "furniture".  He did just that this weekend.  A handsome, sturdy table and bench set now sits on the pier so all hurricanes are to be directed elsewhere for the time being.  I want to enjoy these pieces for a while before having to cart them back up the hillside.  Thankfully, Son has them bolted down to the pier planks so a minor storm will never move them.

  Sometimes, I feel as if I do not let Son know just how much I appreciate all he does around this place.  His project list is endless and I sort of keep tacking things on the bottom of that paper.  He just smirks and tells me that he will get to them soon.  Now...storms stay away so he can get more of these projects completed and not have to deal with your debris and damage!

Replenishing the "Sea of Purple"

   For several years in a row, hurricanes and tropical storms battered the Bayou.  The cleanup was hard work but with steady toiling, most would be done before the next round of storms.  It is something we have to deal with if we wish to stay on this land.  I love my little bayou and the surrounding woods enough to endure whatever is thrown at me.  Only once in my entire life of living in the area have I ever had second thoughts about staying in the Little Bayou House and, by that time, it was too late to leave.  Hurricane Katrina was a force to be reckoned with on her terms.  While we were dealt a severe blow, we persevered.  And to those who rode through Hurricane Camille and claimed it was "the storm of the century", Katrina proved just how wrong that judgement was.  It was far worse.  I can say that...I rode through both.  

  One of the downsides of doing hurricane cleanup is that you really do not have the opportunity to fret over what is lost even after the storm.  When plowing through the mountains of debris, it seems highly pointless to worry over a small plant or garden area.  You just want the debris gone.  So, gardens and even wildflowers disappear.  After the latest storms, this bothered me a lot.  I missed the natural look of the place.  So...I headed back to higher ground behind the house and did a bit of scrounging.  There, the plants survived.  I was elated and dug many to refurbish the pathways.

  Of my finds, the woods violets are favorites. I dug several clumps but was careful not to purge the places where they grew naturally.  The plants flourished in their new home and are gracing the place with the beauty of their blooms.  Never have there been so many lovely purple blossoms scattered about the hillside!  This all reminds me so much of the old farm place where Pop had violets growing by the acre.  Between his old shed/workshop and the chicken house, thousands of violets were left to grow to wild abandon.  He kept the place mowed except when he saw the violets starting to bud.  Then, he let them bloom and reseed themselves.  There were so many blooms that this area could actually be seen by cars passing in front of the property.  Many people would stop to ask what was blooming.  Pop was always happy to share information and a few plants.  

  Just yesterday, a sweet friend brought up the memory of Pop and his violets even though he has been gone for some thirty years.  She was a teacher at the local elementary school and took the road past the farm to work every day.  Stephanie said that when the violets bloomed and word got out at the school, a lot of teachers rerouted their trips home so they could view the "Sea of Purple" growing in the backyard of the old farm.  How sweet that she remembered and how sweet that she shared the memory with me.  The thought made the violets blooming on the path so much more precious.  I am glad I was able to replant after the storms.  Hopefully, we will have a few years of calm so the violets can take hold and fill the yard and I can have my own "Sea of Purple".

Grass Rescue

   Other than the obvious destruction that hurricanes bring to coastal cities, there is often long term effects that not too many folks even consider.  The high winds and storm surges can change the flora and fauna of an area.  After Hurricane Katrina, we had a massive influx of brown widow spiders that I had never noticed before here on the Bayou.  We had the occasional black widow but never any brown widow spiders.  Spiders are not the only creepy crawly critters that come riding in on debris.  Before Hurricane Camille, not many folks around here had ever seen an eastern lubber grasshopper.  We have had limpkins from Florida, strange fish from who knows where and even lizards from the islands.  Sometimes, the critters adapt to their new home and, sometimes, they move on in search of their own kind.

  Plants, on the other hand, really cannot "move on".  Once here, they stay...for better or worse.  One of the "hurricane transplants" to the Bayou is cordgrass.  This plant was brought to us by Hurricane Katrina, also.  I first noticed a few sprigs on the east side of the pier not long after that storm.  Now, it makes up about 30% of the marsh in this area and is spreading.  While I do not mind the looks of this newcomer, I do have a complaint.  It is displacing the needle grass that was originally here.  Great clumps of the needle grass are being washed away with each new storm as the roots of the cordgrass has disrupted the root systems of the needle grass.  With the past two storms (Zeta and Ida), I have been trying to restore the clumps that wash into the yard.  It is no easy task to drag the heavy (50 to 100lb) clumps back down to the water but I figure it is necessary as a preservation act.  Plus, the mussels that are attached to the root systems need that brackish water to live.  There is not much I can do to eliminate the cordgrass but perhaps I can save a bit of the needle grass.  

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.

Rhymes Cannot Be Trusted

 So now that we are all tucked in tightly in preparation for Hurricane Sally's visit, I am pondering just what to do next.  There is always this feeling of angst...not fear....just uneasiness that something has been forgotten.  I try to go down the mental list of hurricane preparations and I have done this so many years that it should be second nature but the feeling still comes.  So...I go over that list again and again.  Hopefully, the brain is not dulling with age to the point that a major thing has been overlooked.  Hurricane Sally is a force to be reckoned with as it is now a Category 2 storm and strengthening.  If it lingers over the warm Gulf waters too long, we are going to be in a bit of a fix as the longer it dilly-dallies,the stronger and more organized it can become. Not good.  Not good at all.  We shall just have to wait and see.

  There is an old saying that goes something like "Red skies in the morning, sailors take warning.  Red skies at night, sailors delight."  Well, our sailors would be in a bit of confusion this evening.  The skies put on the most glorious display of reds, oranges and purples.  If a ship went to sea solely on that horizon, the sailors would probably find themselves ruing the fact that they ever quoted the rhyme.  Keep a weather eye on the horizon, folks, and do not let nursery rhymes direct your paths.  Stay strong and keep safe if you are in the path of this entity.  Sally is getting ready to pack a wallop.

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.

Oh, This Weather!

  As of late, we have been having a lot of weird weather here on the Bayou.  By "as of late", I mean this whole past year.  Things have just not been right.  By the first of August, we had already received as much rainfall as our yearly total should be and it just keeps on coming. Things are soggy, to say the least.  Instead of our usual late afternoon thunderstorms, we are having deluges.  Inches of water pour from the sky almost daily.  The rain gauge is in constant need of emptying as are any other receptacles about the place.  Everything is filled with water and that only encourages mosquitoes to lay more eggs.  They are not the only ones, though.  I even found tadpoles in the folds of a tarp covering lumber!  Tadpoles, mind you, in little pockets of water.  Geez!

 This evening was not unlike any other day.  Our clouds came.  The rains poured.  Thunder pounded.  Lightning blasted.  It was another rough storm.  It does seem like we should get used to the things eventually but, since each one comes from a different direction, they all exhilarate.  This evening after the particularly severe storm, I noticed that the sky looked a bit different.  Hmmm?  Time to brave the elements and take a look.  Sure enough, the sky had an orange glow about it and the yard seemed extremely bright even though dark clouds were still gathering and thunder threatened.  

  Now with several tropical systems moving across the ocean, I have to ponder if all of the aforementioned rains will have ill effects on the place.  Since the ground is already mush from so much water, will our trees withstand gale force winds?  Can the rivers, inlets, bayous, lakes hold any more water?  Will the already flooded neighborhoods survive more rain?  It is all something to think about, folks.  Best to prepare now since the next two months present a good chance of a hurricane whipping into the area....a soggy, water-soaked area that probably cannot endure much more of this.  I am so thankful that we live on a high hill above the Bayou.  Now if our trees can dig their roots a bit deeper into this mushy ground, things may be ok.  Mark and I were joking about needing pontoons under the Little Bayou House!  Hang tight, folks, and keep a weather eye on the horizon!

Just Another Leaf

  Late this afternoon, I was out doing a bit of hiking while checking to see just what needed to be done to prepare for the possible hurricane.  I figure I had better get a jump on things even this early in the game.  With Son's knee still not in the best condition, he will have to do some of the indoor chores and let me handle the outdoors.  Life did get a whole lot easier today since Mark is back home from his job and will be here to handle the difficult stuff.  (What a huge blessing!)  I did do a few small things as I hiked such as bringing in the bottles from the bottletree and taking up the bird feeders.  The poor birds will just have to scavenge on the ground for their seeds for the next few days.  Tomorrow will see me in full swing.  The grass will be mowed, all of the lawn furniture stowed away, the greenhouse secured and any remaining fruit or vegetables will be picked.

  While down near the persimmon tree, I spied a mass of wild grapevines. Perhaps these had a few grapes leftover from the scavenging coons. Those rascals devoured the Muscadines and Scuppernongs before I could pick them.  The day after their raid, I managed to only get one quart of grapes from the entire arbor.  Perhaps a few Fox or Possum grapes remained on the wild vines and I could add those to my stash.  I eased down through the palmettos.  A careful watch was needed so I would not inadvertently step on a cottonmouth.  No grapes are worth that pain!  But, sad to say, the coons beat me to the wild grapes also.  

  As I turned to leave, I noticed someone hiding in amongst the grape leaves!  A sweet yellow butterfly was trying to find a safe place to spend the night.  Its bright yellow coloring would be sure to stand out against any dark foliage but the grape leaves were already yellowing with age. The butterfly's habit of danging from a twig with wings folded was the perfect camouflage.  It moved once as I stepped in closer to get a photograph but then settled back in for the night. I think it knew that I meant it no harm.  

  With the threat of a hurricane bearing down on us, preparations are a priority.  Since a sure storm path is never a reality, it is wise to fall back on that old saying of "better to be safe than sorry."  I will be busy for the next few days "just in case".  If the storm does decide to move away from this area, I will chalk my efforts up to "being ahead of the game with the week's work". While doing my chores, I am sure that I will run across many more critters seeking shelter or searching for food.  It always makes me wonder just how they survive during hurricanes.  Wish I could lend a helping hand.

****My, oh, my!  It is amazing how things can change in just a matter of hours!  We were watching what was said to be a 80% chance of a hurricane coming our way and that has now been change to a 0% chance!   Two hours after posting the above, I am here editing that everything is looking good! Yippee! 

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.

My Very Own Ring!

  There is a Coastal legend called "The Ring in the Oak".  According to all that has been told, a Indian maiden from the Biloxi Tribe fell in love with a warrior from the neighboring Pascagoula Tribe.  Since these were rivals, the Chief of the Biloxi Tribe refused to allow a marriage to take place.  The young maiden begged so much that the Chief finally relented....a little bit.  "When a ring grows in yon oak tree, you may marry."  The story goes on to say that a terrible hurricane hit the area and when the winds subsided, lo and behold, a ring appeared in the tree. The Chief stood true to his word and allowed the marriage to take place.  As odd as it may seem, to this day there is a ring in that very same oak tree.  The tree has withstood all hurricanes even though it stands right near the beach. Also, as odd as it may seem, the legend has a few problems as the Biloxi Tribe and Pascagoula Tribe were not only allies but friends.  Still, it makes for a good story and the tale has withstood the test of time just like the old oak tree.  Tree experts have explained away the legend by declaring that the limb was damaged (split) by the storm and healed over to form a ring.  Probably....but you will never be able to convince any die-hard believers that their tree was not a miracle performed in the defense of true love.

  Late this afternoon, I was making my way back from the pier when I noticed our own "ring in the oak".  My ring is not a true ring....yet.  If the experts are correct, given a few hundred years, this ring will need a legend as well.  Just like the "Ring in the Oak" tree, the oak tree here was bent and twisted during a hurricane.  I first noticed the odd angle right after Hurricane Katrina.  Let nature take its course and in time, the tree limbs will grow together and form an unusual ring.  Mother Nature has a way of taking care of things.

  I guess now that I mention it, I really need to get started creating a fantastic legend to attach to my tree!  You know, it takes a while for legends to catch on with folks.  Perhaps it will not be some sappy love story but a tale of endurance or perhaps something mystical or magical like the Bayou itself.  That would be a fitting tale to give my tree!