Hunting for Magic!

  I have often said that the Bayou is a magical place full of mystical beings.  While this may fully be due to my wild imagination, one cannot help but believe that there are a lot of unseen entities dwelling among the palmettos, hiding beneath the ferns and playing in the creek bottom.  Back before the old dog became incapacitated, he and I would wander aimlessly in search of the magic.  We often found it.  Somewhere deep in the woods, a feeling would surround us then, invariably, a presence could be felt.  Usually, a critter of some sort would be found hiding among the leaves or staring down from the treetops.  Whether these critters were magical to others remains to be seen but they were (and still are) to me. 

  Now that Mr. PJ has fallen too weak to hike, he and I spend more time inside.  His days are spent napping on his bed and I piddle about making clue hunt props.  The old dog's health and happiness have taken precedence over my hikes.  Still, I occasionally get to slip out the back door when he is in a deep sleep.  It is then that I continue my search for magical beings!  

  Down behind the old pump shed, the new path twists and turns beneath some huge magnolia trees.  Their thick canopy pretty much blocks out the sunlight and gives the path an almost ominous flare.  It was here that I found the tiny mushroom that just begged for some elfin creature to dance upon its cap.  I photographed the mushroom but never once laid eyes upon the elf!  Perhaps, later in the week, another hike will prove more productive!  

  Now before you think I have flipped my lid, my magical creatures are merely whatever happens to be found on the short hikes.  It matters not if it is a tiny mouse nibbling the mushroom or the wily bobcat slinking beneath the ferns in hopes of catching a rabbit.  Being in their presence is enthralling so...magical creatures they are.  Right now, I can use all the magic I can find.

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.

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.  

My Amusement At Dawn

  It has often been said that it does not take a lot to amuse me.  On the contrary, my friends, it takes the world to entertain me.  While on the pier at daybreak the other morning, Mark and I had the pleasure of watching something that a lot of folks never see.  As the sun rose above the pines on the far side of the Bayou, a soft breeze started to waft across the Bay.  This breeze led to gently rolling waves.  Nothing big.  Just soft rolls coming across the water.  It was the combination of the two that caught our attention.  While I see this quite often during my morning meditations, I am not sure just what to call the phenomenon.

  As the waves rolled, the sunlight was reflected off of them and on to the pines on the other side of our little inlet portion of the Bay.  The sunlight was being projected onto the trees in a rippling effect.  Yep, I found it fascinating....I always do.  

  The fact that I am so easily amused by all things in nature is something that was instilled in me long ago.  Along with the idea of respecting nature came a curiosity.  That curiosity led to interest and that to pure bliss.  There is something almost mystical about finally becoming a part of nature.  It is like coming home.

Its Magical!

  It should come as no great surprise that I think the Bayou is a pretty magical place.  Things here have a way of, well, just being a bit different than other places.  What may seem to be perfectly mundane one day can be quite mystical the next.  It all depends on how you look at things or, rather, how you see things,  I have often said that looking at things and seeing them are two different things.  Seeing is far better.  

  This morning's hike felt a bit different from the get go.  The old dog was not up to gallivanting about the hillside at daybreak so I traipsed the path alone.  As I rounded the bend near where the Bayou meets the creek, a sweet, almost intoxicating scent enveloped me.  Ahh, yes, the tree that folks around here call mimosa (actually, albizia) was in full bloom.  As I stood staring up at the pink, powder-puff flowers, it suddenly hit me that this was one of those magical, mystical moments.   

  Over night, a slight fog had settled over the marsh and softly wafted through the trees.  The early morning sunbeams were just starting to filter through and had seemingly spotlighted the mimosa tree.  There it stood...glowing in all its glory...a thing of untold beauty in the midst of the woods.  I fully expected some faeries to start flitting about the blossoms at any moment.  

  There is nothing better than hiking about the place at dawn.  It is a time when the newness of the day can not only be seen but heard, smelled, tasted and felt.  It is a sensory overload!  That saying "You snooze, you lose!" is accurate.  Had I laid in bed, I would have never seen the beauty set before me.  

The "Water Garden"

  Stormy days on the Bayou are some of my favorite times.  There is just something about a good storm that revitalizes the body and mind.  I need that often especially here lately.  With the heavy rains came high winds.  Those winds pushed the tides far up into the yard and pushed it even further back into the Bayou, itself.  Far back in bowels of the Bayou where the creek empties, there is one spot that draws me.  The swamp almost calls to me to visit, occasionally.  On those times, I slip on my leather moccasins and make the hike.  I tred gingerly so as to avoid any cottonmouths or snapping turtles that lurk there.  All of that just to view one certain spot.  Here, the ferns grow to great heights and arrowhead plants flourish alongside of the white spider lilies.  One gets the feeling that this spot is almost magical!  I fully expect to find some will-o'-the-wisps with their tiny, flickering lanterns during one visit.  The place is wonderfully mystical!

  Just a couple of days ago, that urge to check the spider lilies overcame me and I crept deep into the creek to the spot.  Nothing was blooming...no lilies, no wild irises, not even the duck potatoes.  Still I was mesmerized by the sheer beauty of the greenness that surrounded me.  Then, fast forward to today.  During a break in the rains with the winds pounding the Little Bayou House, I headed out the back door.  The swamp called....I answered.  

  The place was completely different.  No, the flowers were not blooming but a tranformation had taken place.  Now, my little wild garden spot had been flooded.  The ferns and lilies were all engulfed with the brackish waters that came flooding southward down the creek from the heavy rains and the salty water being pushed northward by the high tide and harsh winds.  What a difference!  Instead of faeries flitting about trying to entice me further into the swamp, I fully expected to find that cottonmouth underfoot!  Then, the rains started once again and I had to scurry back up the hillside from the creek, through the woods and back to the safety of the Little Bayou House!

Only In A Bog

  Occasionally, a hike can provide some pretty thought-provoking finds.  On our recent tromp through the bog, Darling Daughter and I found one small area that was covered in some pretty unusual looking plants.  We had never seen these before and pondered just what we had discovered.  After photographing the twelve to fifteen inch tall plants, the challenge was on to identify them.  We just knew that the things had to be special...after all, they were really weird.  Anything weird and wonderful captures our curiosity to the point that we cannot rest until we are fully satisfied that we know what we have stumbled upon.  

  The plants in question were quite soft to touch, tall, leaves up the entire stalk and were connected by runners.  They grew in a moist soil under the shade of trees.  The plants were still bright green regardless of the fact that the area had just endured temperatures down into the teens for several days. (So far, winter has been for four days...only.  Hoping for more before spring arrives.)  Their fresh look told us that the plants were relatively cold hardy.  So armed with that information and the photographs, we started our research.  While Elizabeth perused the plant guides, I took the much easier route and asked my cousin.  This guy knows most everything!  Just about the same time Elizabeth announced her find of a possible identity, I got an message with the same information from my cousin!  Lycopdeiella appressa or Southern Bog Clubmoss.  Well now!  That is pretty exciting, right?  I thought so.

  Now that we knew what the plant was, we had to look for possible uses other than it just sitting there being pretty.  (Although, that is a rather neat thing for a plant to do!)  It turns out that this plant has been used for centuries as a medicinal aid, in dyes, during ceremonial rituals and for decorative purposes.  Of all of these, it was those decorative uses that nearly was the bane of the plant.  Many folks were ripping the poor plants from the ground to use as garland greenery.  Tons of the plants were uprooted, used on doorways, stairs, etc. then tossed aside.  Being as the roots were stripped from the ground and that the plants are slow growing, many bogs became devoid of the clubmoss. 

  Well, Elizabeth and I decided that cannot happen to "our" clubmoss!   Between the two of us, it has become a goal to root many of the plants to replenish the bogs of the area.  That comes from being Wildcrafters of a sort.  We believe that you do not take without giving back.  Harvest only what you need, leave some to regrow and replant whenever you can.  It is a shame that folks take until all is gone but that comes from the fact that we all now live in a "throwaway" society where folks have a tendency to not think beyond their own whims.  Whether it be robbing the land of all that is good or wasting things that can be reused, this attitude is shameful.

The Bog Calls to Us

  It was a good day.  Any day outside seems to suit me fine but today was special.  Darling Daughter and I spent the day traipsing about a creek and wooded area.  Down behind their property is a low area that is almost magical.  The trees block out the sky leave you feeling completely secluded from the world.  Once you head down under this canopy, things change.  It is the perfect place to escape reality for a little while.  As she and I slipped quietly down the embankment to where the creek was still overflowing from the recent rains, we both felt a peace around us.  We looked at each other and had the same thought of deja vu.  It was as if we belonged spiritually among the mosses, ferns and critters that inhabit the bog.  Something felt as if it was drawing us deeper and deeper into the depths of the fen.  

  While we were marveling over the intense feeling of belonging, we began discovering life that most overlook.  Our vision adjusted from the bright sunlight of the open field to the dim lit understory of the creek. The mystical, magical place began to open up to us.  We were enthralled.

  Mosses, fungi, lichens, ferns...all could be found among the fallen logs and crawfish mounds. Some, we recognized.  Others were unknown to us.  All were fascinating.  We pushed deeper into the swamp.  The further we went, the more entranced we became.  Then, an idea! Wouldn't it be wonderful to build a tiny house way back in the bog that was only accessible by means of a footpath and a swinging bridge? Just a tiny hut of a place to commune with nature and sort of "nest" while escaping the "real" world.   A place where we could feel at peace.  The bog calls us.  We shall return.