Faerie Tale Ball

   When I was a child, my grandparents lived just down the road from the farm.  In fact, the Little Bayou House stands right next to their house and my brother lives in it today.  As a child, I was often allowed to go spend the night with Grandmother and Granddaddy.  For a tyke whose only fulltime friends were older siblings, these visits were a special treat.  Later, I found out that I was literally sent there whenever Mom needed a break.  Having five kids was quite a job and I am sure that I, being the youngest, was quite a handful at times.  Still, I thought it was a reward of some sort to be allowed to stay the night.  Even though their house was about a quarter of a mile from the farmhouse (and then down a wooded lane of about that same distance), I would pack my little bag and walk to their house.  I admit that sometimes it was a bit scary for a preschooler to be alone on that long hike.  Several times, people driving down the road would stop and ask where I was going.  I am sure these were just neighbors being concerned as after I reassured them I was on my way to Grandmother's place, they would pull into the driveway to confirm with Mom.  Neighbors used to watch out for each other. The only other frightening time was when several stray dogs approached.  Thankfully, Granddaddy was in the lane and heard the commotion.  He came to my rescue!

  While on the pier yesterday morning, it was dark enough that all of the lights from across the Bay were casting beautiful streaks on the calm waters.  Those lights jogged a memory loose from the nooks and crannies of the brain.  I started thinking about those pleasant nights spent with grandparents.  My hike to my grandparent's house would begin in midafternoon and I would have supper with them.  Then, I was allowed to stay up and play a game with Grandmother or sit on Granddaddy's lap while he watched the news.  He had a huge rocking chair that seemed to be perfect for two!  Afterward, he would read me a story!  Then, I would climb in the big double bed and try to sleep.  The room seemed huge as this was the only place that I did not share a room with siblings.  To overcome the feeling of "aloneness", I learned to turn toward the big windows that faced the Bay.  Across the water was Keesler Air Force Base.  The lights of the Base were a source of interest to this little girl.  By day, they were the Air Base.  By night, they became a castle.  In my imagination, a fanciful ball was taking place under those lights!  Either Belle, Cinderella or even the Twelve Dancing Princesses were twirling in their loveliest ball gowns just across the Bay.  (My imagination worked really great even back then.)

  Sitting in the stillness of the predawn hours, my brain flitted from one memory of my grandparents to another.  I am glad that I was able to grow up being involved with them.  I learned so many things from how to appreciate a good cup of tea in a fine porcelain cup to using a wood lathe to turn candlesticks.  Sometimes, sitting in the dark by oneself is all it takes to set things right with the world.

  

Behind the Roar

  Here lately, it seems that large engines can be heard constantly running over at the air base across the Bay.  Keesler Air Force Base is the home of the incredible "Hurricane Hunters" and the engines I hear are the planes being readied for the upcoming hurricane season.  Yes, that does not start for a while yet but the crews are never idle.  They are always honing their skills in protecting us.  By day, I watch the planes as they takeoff, fly overhead and then come back to land.  They fly low so I get a good view of the underside of the planes.  If I happen to be on the pier, they will fly directly above me so taking photographs is easy.  By night, I listen to the loud roar of the engines and marvel at the power that can make the windows rattle a bit.  For a while, this noise will be a near round-the-clock. 

  Several years ago, I had a visitor at the Little Bayou House and was asked how I could tolerate the planes.  This was a young cousin from out of state and he had no idea just how important the planes and their crews are to us here on coastal regions.  Once I sat down with him and showed him the history behind the unit, he no longer seemed to be bothered but more intrigued by the roar.  I told him how the crew not only flies into the midst of even the strongest hurricanes to collect data but, also, do the same with winter storms.  He and I talked for some time about the bravery and intelligence it takes to do such a job and how lost we would be without them.  He turned to me and said "Boy, I was stupid to complain about the engine noise!  Now that I know how many lives they probably save, those planes can roar all they want!"  I simply agreed with him.

  Although hurricane season does not start until June 1st, there have been storms develop far earlier so I am pleased to hear the roar of engines and rattling of windows.  Those heavy planes carry some mighty important people and we should all be appreciative of their efforts.  To the 53rd Weather Reconnaissance Squadron, Thank you!  Just know you are fully appreciated by the folks sitting on their piers across the Bay watching your flights!  Keep up the great work!

Through the Mist

  Years and years ago, I was often allowed to spend the night with my grandmother.  While this was probably more of a way to give Mom a break from an active youngster, I felt it was a special treat.  Being the youngest of five kids, I often felt left out of the "big kids" doings so I found this little outing quite exciting.  My scheduled sleepovers usually coincided with some movie that was being shown on TV.  This, too, was exciting as back on the farm, we had no TV.   It was on one of these sleepovers that I first experienced the musical "Brigadoon".  I was hooked from that moment which led to me being invited each time the movie was shown.  It became a ritual for Grandmother to put on the tea kettle, pull out the "fine" teacups and fix a plate of cookies to be enjoyed during our viewing.  This tradition carried on until I was a teenager and then my heart was broken by the passing of the dear lady.  I could not bring myself to even think of watching the movie for years and years.  Then, at some point, Mom asked me to watch it with her and, once again, the movie entranced me.  Later, my kids and I never missed a showing of the musical but, instead of milk tea and cookies, the kids wanted more "exciting" foodstuffs.  Sometimes we roasted hot dogs in the fireplace while other times, we had an indoor picnic.  The decision was theirs and, more oft than not, their grandmother (Mom) would join us for the fun.  I miss those days.  I cannot say that any current day movie has ever affected me as much as this one did.  Then again, I cannot say that any current day movies can possibly been deemed classics either.  

  This morning, memories of Brigadoon, the mystical city that appears of the mist every one hundred years, came back to me.  The time spent with Grandmother, Mom and my kids nearly brought tears to my eyes.   These memories were all due a heavy fog that had laid in overnight.  The thick mist blocked from view most of the other side of the Bay.  Only one small portion of what laid on the opposite shore could be seen and that vision was short lived.  The fog slowly blocked out the entire city.  The mystical, magical Brigadoon (in this case, Keesler Air Base) slipped from sight for the next one hundred years (or at least an hour).

  One of the best parts of living on the Bayou is that you never know what the new day will bring.  Things change with the drop of a hat and surprises abound.  Each day also brings with it the opportunity to reflect back on things from years ago.  The quietness allows the brain to wander where it may thus making each day, each memory worth a visit.  

Its a bird! Its a plane!

  This afternoon found me on the pier as usual.  It just seems the place to go on a hot, muggy afternoon.  The cooling breeze and the promise of something to watch is always drawing me.  Usually, that "something to watch" is a critter but, occasionally, a different sort of entertainment pops up and surprises me.  This afternoon?  Its a bird!  Its a plane! 

  First, a large plane came slowly over the pines.  It was coming in for a landing at Keelser Air Force Base which is directly across the Bay from the pier.  With this view, I can watch all sorts of planes and helicopters as they come and go from the airstrip.  The plane, today, was huge!  My cousin informed me that it was a C-17.  Not being up on my planes, Michelle has to identify them for me.  The plane ever so slowly flew just above the pines and then slipped down behind them to approach the airstrip.  Watching these gigantic machines is awe inspiring.  How in the world can something so big and so slow stay up in the air??  

  While watching the plane, I spied an osprey flying over the Bayou.  The bird was hunting for its dinner and was quite oblivious to my presence.  This..this I can understand as flying!  The bird hovered almost motionless above the water then would swoop down.  Several times it made a pseudo dive only to rise back upwards.  Evidently, its prey dove out of sight just before the osprey was able to catch it. After a bit, the bird noticed me on the pier and came to investigate.  How exciting to see the bird so very close!

  Both the plane and the bird prove that sometimes it is better to look up instead of at what is in front of you.  Had I merely admired the view on the horizon instead of looking skyward, I would have missed both of the two very different "flying machines"!