Mistakes Can Be Beautiful

  Most folks do not like to admit to mistakes.  I have no problem with it.  If I do something wrong or the outcome is not perfect,  I will happily say it was my fault.  I figure that mistakes are just learning experiences so looking at it as a lesson learned can make all the difference in the world.  So what?  I goofed.  I admit it.  I will attempt a "redo" and hopefully things will have better results.  There are those who see this as a weakness.  Their way of coping is to blame others or to hide the evidence.  Nope..not me.  

  In photography, there are a lot of opportunities for mistakes but sometimes not many chances for a retake.  This is especially true when photographing nature.  The bird will fly away, the otter will dive beneath the waters or the clouds will shift and the chance for the perfect picture goes with them.  Still, it is better to have tried than to give up and think it is useless to attempt.   The other day gave me the chance to admit a mistake but to find a bit of beauty in that mistake.  I was out trying to photograph the sunrise but there was a misting rain that kept putting water droplets on the camera lens.  At first, I was a bit dismayed that my pictures would all have weird reflections but, then, I gave up trying to dry the lens between shots.  This, my friends, was a mistake as each photo after that had odd little "rainbows" or irises dotted on it.  Nary a pretty sunrise photograph was taken.

  
  Once I had the opportunity to review the pictures that I took, I realized that not keeping the camera lens clean was not a good idea.  Irises everywhere!  However!  Through that mistake came the one chance to have a creation that cannot be replicated if I tried.  My mistake of a wet lens turned into an unusually interesting photograph.  Definitely, it will never win any awards nor will it be lauded as "art" but I find it quite lovely.  It is a good day when a mistake actually makes you smile.  This one does.  I call it a happy accident.

Fog Is Important In Memories!

  Every year just about this time, I have flashbacks of a time long ago.  These are of a span of years between toddler and teens when I would have a special time with my grandmother.  She and I both loved the movie "Brigadoon" and would share a special time watching it together.  The tradition started when I was about 5 years old and lasted until my teens when she passed.  I would spend the night at her house watching the movie and sipping milked down tea in her fine teacups.  It was our own special "togetherness" time...a time that I will never forget.   

  This time of year always reminds me of the bond shared between the two of us and our love for the old movie.  It is nothing more than the weather that starts rattling around amidst the cobwebs in the far corners of my brain until it shakes out the memories, dusts them off and lets me revel in a bit of bittersweet happiness.  This morning, the weather did its part of jogging the memories from their hiding place.  Overnight, a thick fog developed and completely whited out the Bayou and its surrounding areas.  I could not see ten feet in front of me as I headed to the pier.  This always gives me an almost eerie but equally serene feeling.    After about an hour, the fog lifted from our area but was still heavy across the Bay.  A low lying fog stayed above the channel that separates the two lands.  The island to my right was vividly apparent but the shore just beyond was shrouded in the mist.  Only the tops of the buildings and the tall water tower could be seen.  "Brigadoon" (better known around here as Keesler Air Base) was emerging from the mist!  My memories started running wild. 

  It is also times like this that spurs the imagination into gear.  All sorts of fanciful tales were causing a ruckus in the mind.  Tales of disappearing villages, true love and, of course, fog!  Fog is important in all ramblings of the mind!

To Capture A Ghost!

  It never fails that folks who claim to have captured a ghost, Big Foot, Loch Ness Monster or Elvis on film always present a very blurry photo.  In the picture, the "proof" is obscure, to say the least.  Most of the time, it is downright difficult to even distinguish anything in the photograph.  Hey!  I am good at that type photography!  A lot of my photos are blurry, distorted and hard to decipher.  I figure that I should be famous by now!

  Actually, there are things on the Bayou that are unexplainable.  Sights and sounds during the wee hours of the morning can send chills up the spine.  Couple these with a good old fashioned tale and things can get pretty eerie!  Now, I am not saying there are things out there but I am sure not saying that there aren't.  Lets just leave it at that.  

  There are tales that at some point in history this very area was a not so savory place to be.  The Bayou was known to be home of a good many large alligators that left little evidence if a "body" needed to disappear without a trace.  Folklore says that the bayous are all haunted because of such transgressions.  Personally, I have yet to come across any evidence that proves or disproves the accounts but one never knows.  Then...back to the photography skills...a photo taken this morning may be "proof"!  A "ghost" appeared in my photograph!  I was taking pictures of the sunlight playing on a rising mist covering the marsh and somehow captured my apparition!  The ghost is in one photo and not the next!  Where did it go???  

  To be honest, the wispiness of the low lying fog can appear to be many things.  This is what brings tales of Will-o-the-wisps, swamp ghosts and water spirits.  The early morning mist carried by a soft breeze can conjure all sorts of mystical thoughts. (We won't mention that a cloud blocked the sun's rays at an opportune time making the marsh a lot darker!)  My "Ghost of the Bayou" needs a believable tale to go with it.  Perhaps, this shall become the basis for yet another Clue Hunt on the Bayou!  Then again....maybe it really was a ghost!

Another Magical Morn on the Bayou

  Whenever I mention that I live on a Bayou to anyone who does not know me, they immediately come up with some pretty wild thoughts about life here.  Some folks are frightened of the alligators, snakes and other wild critters that roam the marsh and woods.  Others think I am some sort of swamp witch that can create zombies, read palms and live solely on grub worms that I dig from the mud.  I warn those who fear the critters to watch their step but instead of being fearful, they just need to be respectful.  If you respect a critter's right to be here, then usually there are no problems.  As for the other folks, no....just no.

  I do agree, however, that the Bayou is a pretty magical and mystical place.  Things can happen here that do not anywhere else in the world but, at the same time, that can be said about any place.  What happens in a given spot is special to that spot and to the person observing it.  It is all a matter of how you see things.  Me?  I prefer to find the magic in life, in general.  So many folks depend on things, people or events to exhilirate them but just living is enough if you have insight to see that is all it takes.  

  The Bayou made its magic evident this morning.  A slight cloud cover kept the sun from casting clear, sharp images.  That, combined with a light fog wisping up over the marsh, was enough to coax the wheels of imagination into a soft spin.  All sorts of wild ideas can be conjured when the wind is right!  Tales of swamp critters, will-o-the-wisps and pirate treasure whirl about the brain dusting down the cobwebs that linger from an inactive imagination.  That, my friends, is part of the magic of the Bayou.

Squeaky Clean?

  Early this morning, I stood looking out the French doors at the fog and drear.  It was not quite raining but too drippy to be outside for any length of time.  My time would have to be spent indoors once again and this was not making me overly happy.  There were things to be done and sitting inside staring outside was not accomplishing one thing.  It was that mindless staring that brought me to the realization that the stiff breeze that accompanied the drizzle was hurdling something across the Bayou.  Something white and fluffy (?) was being whipped about just above the marsh.  Hmmm?  Perhaps I had better don a jacket and venture out regardless of the weather.  Surely, this needed investigating!

  A few minutes later brought me face to face with suds.  Yep, suds.  A fluff of suds about the size of a football had come wafting in on the breeze. This was indeed strange!  Even at a distance of a few feet, I recognized that scent.  Someone else uses Gain detergent!  But, my goodness!  Did their washing machine explode?  Whoever was doing the laundry across the Bayou must have used a tad too much detergent in the machine to make enough suds to have it escape the laundry room and make it all the way across the Bayou!  I had to giggle.  I can only imagine what that laundry room looked like right at this moment!  Suds must be everywhere!  Sure enough, a quick glance at the marsh proved that theory. Fluffs of suds were dotting the tops of the marsh and were bouncing along on the wind.  Oops!  That had to be a mess!

  To be honest, I have noticed that Gain detergent has an extreme sudsing power and I have had to cut my use in quarters.  A mere tablespoon will suds up a large load to the point of needing an extra rinse.  Obviously, whoever was washing clothes used the recommended amount and not the meager amount that I use.  Now I guess the Bayou is squeaky clean?  Or polluted with suds.....

The Tears of the Bayou

  I awoke far too early this morning and try as I might, I could not fall asleep again.  After about a half hour of restlessness, I headed to the pier in the pitch blackness of predawn.  Ms. Ez, the dog, stayed by my side as we cautiously stepped on the moist pier boards.  We took it slow and easy this morning.  There was no sense in being reckless which might cause us to slip overboard into the mud!  Three marsh rabbits scurried under the thatch of reeds as we neared them.  They were not happy with our presence nor was the mama nutria rat.  She obviously has already made her little ones vacate the den because this time, they were not with her. Most likely, she is already bred again and is awaiting a new litter.  Our approach caused her to slip into the water and make a hasty escape to the other side of the Bayou.  Neither the old dog nor I had any intention of chasing the rabbits or nutria so their wariness was not needed.  We were more interested in the peace of the morn.

  After being out for nigh on an hour, the eastern sky started getting its telltale redness that meant dawn was just minutes away.  With the coming light, I could see a faint mist rising up from the marsh.  It was this mist that caused our slippery pier boards.  Although it could make the walk a bit arduous, the mist is a thing of beauty.  It lingers just long enough for the sun to make an appearance.  Then the mist is gone.  Our foggy days, on the other hand, sometimes last for days on end and make me long for sunshine.

  Once the sun popped out from behind the pines, I headed back to the house.  My son, daughter-in-law and grandbaby were heading back to Georgia today and I wanted to spend as much time as possible with them before they left.  My misty morning on the Bayou could sort of describe my feelings today...beautiful and happy yet teary.  Perhaps the mist was the Bayou shedding a few tears as it bid them farewell.  The whole place is sad to see them head home.  (BUT!  I am looking forward to their next visit perhaps as soon as this summer!)