Keeping My Distance!

  With all of the mess that the world is in nowadays, it is best to heed the advice of the experts and do a bit of "social distancing".   There is no earthly reason that you "have" to go anywhere.  Make life a wee bit easier on our health care workers and STAY HOME!  It is that simple.  Stay home...let this virus die out due to a lack of hosts.  I don't want it.  You don't want it.  Nobody wants it.  So...stop sharing it.  Today, several folks called and wanted to come here.  Nope!  I rarely leave the Bayou as it is so social distancing is easy for me but, folks, stop trying to "un-distance" me!  I have advised folks to not venture down the lane to the Little Bayou House.  Let me stay in isolation.

  In fact, my social distancing is now an art form in its own right.  I can avoid people with ease.  Early this morning, I was on the pier thinking that I had actually distanced myself from my own house!  I am out before daybreak and tend to stay outside until late, late afternoon.  As I sat on the bench looking back toward the house, it almost made me giggle.  With the new growth of leaves this spring, the Little Bayou House seemed to disappear!  Looking back up that long pier, the house was quite hidden.  It was as if the place had decided to go into hiding with the rest of us.  

  Folks, it is simple.  To end the virus, we have all got to keep our distance, take precautions and stay well.  Best advice is to stay away from everybody.  I have several family members in the medical profession and they are stressed beyond belief.  They are out of supplies, they are physically and mentally exhausted and, yet, they continue to work hard to keep everybody well.  Why is it so hard to do our part?  Stay home.

Wearing the Stripes

  Nowadays, it is hard to tell just who you can trust.  People are often all sweet to your face but will turn against you given a half of chance.  (Notice, I said "people" and not folks.  Folks are honest.  People, on the other hand, tend to get on my nerves.)  To me, those being sneaky and underhanded, while being sugar-coated in your presence are lower than low.  I am a pretty easy-going person and like to give people the benefit of the doubt but, when that "doubt" is blatantly obvious, something has to be done.  Life would be easier if the "cheats" all had to wear prison stripes so they can be easily identified.

  
  In the critter world, there is a fish that is known to be a thief.  In fact, it even wears those prison stripes to proclaim itself as a crook and bears a nickname of Convict Fish.   The Sheepshead can steal a bait sooner than you can shake a stick making fishing problematic, at times.  You are not going to catch supper with an empty hook.  Occasionally, however, the fish is caught and the tables are turned.  Its thieving ways are over and it must pay the price.  Karma is served up on a big platter.  It is amazing how fishing can be related to all things in life.  Keeping that in mind, it is easier to sit on the pier and while away the hours than deal with people.  Go fishing.  It clears the mind.

 

 

Oh, The Things People Believe!

  It is funny how many "old wives' tales" stick around and are believed by those who obviously cannot think for themselves.  The preposterous ideas remain steadfast and are defended vehemently.  One such idea popped into my head today as I was hiking to the pier with the old dog, Mr. PJ.  He has a liking for a certain grass that grows near the marsh edge so I have to sort of be on watch for snakes while he munches.  Since he is not a true "Bayou Dog", as of yet, he is a bit oblivious to snakes and just might graze his way right on top of one.  A nasty bite from a cottonmouth would surely do the old fellow in so I try to stay between the dog and the danger zone.   While he was eating, I noticed "Snake Spit" on most of the larger stalked plants that were popping up in the boggy soil.  With the sight of the white, foamy goop on the stems of the plants, my brain started sliding back in time when Mark and I first married.  The "Snake Spit" was ingrained in some of the family members' heads and they would immediately start sprinting from the area.  Regardless of my explanation of what the goo actually is, they still stuck with their belief of it actually being snake spit.  They were not open to any explanations and actually called me a few names that were not the nicest.  So, I quit trying to give any information.  Let folks believe the ridiculousness if they wish.  

  Snake Spit has nothing to do with snakes at all. The white foam is actually the product of a small bug called (of all things) a spittlebug.  This little critter that greatly resembles the leafhopper is the culprit that adorns the garden with the unsightly mess.  The mama spittlebug lays her eggs on the stalks of plants and when those eggs hatch, the little ones immediately start to suck the plant juices from the stalk.  While some is used for food, most is turned into that foamy mess.  This hides the nymph, keeps it from drying out and regulates the temperature around the nymph.  Since the nymph is so tiny, not too many predators will take a bite of the nasty tasting foam for a minuscule tidbit of a bug.

  My thoughts, today, were not really about that bug and its foamy home but were more about how forcefully some folks stick with their misguided ideas.  Never try to change these folks minds.  You will talk yourself blue in the face and still not convince them that what they have long believed is erroneous. With the spittlebugs and their "snake spit", this all comes from a deep seated fear of snakes.  The same folks who argued me down about the origin of the spittle are also the ones that think that every snake is "poisonous" and that snakes actually stalk people just to bite  them.  (Don't even try to explain the difference between poisonous and venomous...just don't.  It is a losing battle.)  Poor, misguided folks.  They do not realize how many amazing things they are missing because of fear.  Yep. even those spittle bugs are pretty amazing when you think about it.

"Hit It With A Hammer!"

  I have always said that I have far more critter friends than I do people friends.  This is by choice as I find the critters far more amiable than most folks.  Even wild critters seem to appreciate all you do for them and are willing to just be friends without asking for a thing in return.  With the recent holiday season behind us, I find that, more than ever, folks are irritating, to say the least.  No matter how much you do for some folks, they always want more.  They take until you are just bone dry and then come back to rattle those bones.  It is times like this that I feel that I could fully do without ever seeing anyone.  That is one of the main reasons that I rarely leave the Bayou.  This is my peace.  Whenever I get a bit unnerved, I seek the solace that only the water can bring.

  There is a young man that has been visiting the Bayou since he was just a wee lad.  He spent many a days (and nights) here as a youngster and has sort of come to be an "adopted" son.   Chris is a good natured sort who is always ready to give a helping hand when needed..which is not something I can say about a lot of folks that come here.  I thought about Chris, today, and one of his bits of "advice".  Whenever something is rattling those old bones of mine, he simply advises "Hit it with a hammer!"  I have never tried it before but I have to admit that it sounded pretty enticing today.  I truly considered that smacking a few folks with that hammer might knock a bit of sense in their heads.  So, short of doing something that was totally out of character and that might just cause me to wind up in jail, I hunted for another means of "beating the tar" out of something.  

  I picked up the axe and started whacking at the pile of wood that needed splitting.  While I used to be quite adept at splitting a load of firewood without taking a breather, age is catching up with me.  As good as it felt to release a bit of stress by smacking that axe down on the logs, I did not really make that much progress.  The pile did not get a lot smaller although the stress level sure did.  After about forty minutes of swinging that axe, I only had enough firewood for the day. Only nine logs were split and I was exhausted!  The axe went back to the shed, the firewood was toted inside to the fire bin and I collapsed in the old rocking chair.  

  Yep, hitting it with a hammer is good advice.  Smacking it with an axe wears you out but it did have a good final effect.  Instead of sitting and brooding about the situation at hand, I worked it out of my system and got enough firewood to warm myself for a bit.  Thanks, Chris.  You are pretty wise for such a young man.  Tomorrow, however, will find me sore from this new exercise, I am sure!