Making Friends At the Frog Pond

   It has been a while since I have last written anything but, perhaps, this is the start of a regular thing again.  I am gradually starting to feel like my "old self" after a bit of a stressful ailment.  Doctor's orders said "No being out before dawn or tromping through the creek bed without someone else in tow."  That did not set well as both Son and my husband would rather take a leisurely approach to the morning and neither have the time to traipse in search of some critter or odd mushroom.  My ailment, once again, left me to the "Realm of the Small Gardens" where I adjusted my crown and tried to carry on with the day as best I could.  After 6 months of treatment, those rules are starting to loosen a bit which elates me!  

  I did get to go out to the Frog Pond this week to pull a few of the over abundance of water hyacinths.  Those things are relentless!  Thankfully, they contribute a good bit of nutrients to the compost so not all is terrible.  While there, I had a visitor.  A Praying Mantis decided that my shoulder was the perfect perch.  This thing was HUGE!  I guess the mosquitoes in the pond are a tasty treat so I was happy about that.  What I was not so happy about is that these critters will also eat my baby tree frogs!  I am quite sure that the mantis dined upon a few of those, as well.  It is understandable that the mantis must eat to survive but I would prefer it did not eat the cute, little froglets!  After a bit, I gently lifted the mantis off of my shoulder and let it crawl to the wild petunias on the outer edge of the pond.  There, it can patrol the area without worry. 

  For those who think that the Praying Mantids only eat other bugs, there is a great deal of study showing that they eat anything that they can overpower.  If it moves and the mantis can subdue it, that critter becomes breakfast.  The froglets, tiny lizards, spiders...anything is fair game to them!  If you can look closely at the photograph, you will see their front legs are quite spiky which allows the mantis to get a good grip.  Their patience, stealth and strength usually give the insect the upper hand when hunting.  One this size (a good 5 inches in length) eats whatever it wants.  Hopefully, I will find oothecas (egg cases) soon! Carry on, Beautiful Mantis!  It was nice meeting you.

Fish Crow to the Rescue!

  Being tightly bound to the small gardens once again, I miss my bayou critter friends.  So far, none have ventured up to the gardens to do a check on me like six years ago when I had to crown myself "Queen of the Small Gardens".  Then, everything from turtles, snakes, raccoons, owls and hawks ventured into the gardens.  I cherished each of the visits and had some of the best "conversations" albeit one-sided.  I was just happy to have them nearby. 

  This go-round, someone new has taken to a thrice daily visit.  If I am in the back part of the gardens, a Fish Crow will perch itself on the peak of the house and call to me.  It watches my every move and will come down to accept peanuts from the fencepost.  If I am in the front gardens, it perches itself about twenty feet up on an old, dead oak branch. There it calls constantly until another handful of peanuts is proffered.  These are carefully placed on an upturned flowerpot on the arbor.  The bird happily accepts each gift.

  While most folks are not overly fond of crows, I have come to love this bird simply because it gives me the feeling of usefulness in an otherwise useless situation. The bird came to my rescue just when I needed it the most. Perhaps the bird senses that I am "on hold" from my daily routine until the body heals or perhaps it just wants those peanuts.  Either way, I am grateful that it has chosen to visit the Small Gardens.  

Added note...American Crows are much more abundant across the entire nation but Fish Crows are usually found coastally.  While their appearances are similar, their calls are distinctly different.  This is definitely a Fish Crow!

My Backyard "Tower"

   Being tightly bound to the Small Gardens has made me start looking for points of interest that I might ordinarily overlook.  We all do that.  We become so hung up in what we "have" to do that we have a tendency to forget what we "need" to do for ourselves...those things that inspire, induce tranquility or simply cause us to "stop and smell the roses".  Having the title of "Queen of the Small Gardens" imposed upon me during my time of healing has brought my "workload" to a crawl.  Sorry, being lazy both hurts and helps.  Physically, I ache from suddenly becoming more or less inactive.  Mentally, the brain is whirling with fantastical tales.  This seems to be something inherited from my maternal grandmother.  It was passed to my Aunt Helen and then instilled in my brain through contact with the two of them.  They had the ability to create magical scenes for any child who wished to listen and believe.  I did both.

  That said, yesterday, as I was strolling through my garden domain (thing queen here!), I spied the cupola that sits atop of a house which is probably a quarter of a mile from my house.  The Bayou is between the two houses. In my previous hikes along the marshline, the cupola definitely sat on top of that house.  The whole house was visible and, while I thought the thing was neat, it never inspired any creative ideas.  It was just a cupola that would need a difficult paint job as the need arose.  Since my view was from a different angle and the cupola was mostly hidden behind the grape arbor and tree line, it suddenly became a "garden tower" and thoughts soon drifted to tales that the aforementioned ladies had shared.  Ahh...faerie tales...the Land of Enchantment...a little girl's happy time...all came tumbling out of the dusty corners of the brain.  

  Who knew that a neighbor's cupola could stir the creativeness to a point that I wish to write, paint and recreate some of those long-lost tales?  Perhaps, this void in my usual busy day can be filled building ideas instead of greenhouses.  Maybe, the seeds that I should be planting are ideas and not the start of plants.  Possibly, I needed a time to slow down and find a different, more pleasing role for myself.  It is a thought anyway and one that I shall seriously consider.  Healing can take many different routes, it seems.  So...as Queen, I shall start or, at least, make an attempt.

The Queen Is Back

  Being somewhat limited in my actions, once again, has made me pull out that crown and dub myself as "Queen of the Small Gardens".  This is not by my choice but rather one made by those who care about me.  "You have to stop doing everything and let your body heal."  These are orders given by those who have more sense than I do apparently.  I fully admit to doing things that an "old lady" should not be doing but...putting a roof on the lean-to seems like a simple thing.  So does pushing a lawnmower for four hours or bailing out the tiny Frog Ponds.  I just do not like asking for help for things that I can do for myself.  That said...I have had to ask.  I have had to stop.  I have a year to be lazy....lazy hurts...bad.  I have always felt much better being active even if it was overactive.  That said, my whole Queen of the Small Gardens is even a bit on the downside as I am not allowed to work the gardens to my satisfaction.  Lazy...I have to be lazy.  Oh, did I mention that lazy hurts?  It does.

  So...since my gardening work has come nigh on to a halt, the gardens decided to take things in hand.  It saddened me to see the empty rows, the barren flower beds and the weedy raised boxes but...this fretting was all for naught.  The gardens planted themselves!  Perhaps, these are not the plants that would have been so tediously tended but they are gorgeous and I am appreciative.  Mother Nature knew I needed a boost so she sprinkled wildflower seeds everywhere!  (Some folks would argue that my wildflower beds are nothing more than unkempt weed patches but, to me at the moment, they are lovely!)

         

  Some of the prettiest "gardens" are beneath the potted fig trees. These are trees that I rooted back couple of years ago and just never had the opportunity to transplant them into the yard. So...they are still in pots.  BUT!  Underneath those fig trees are lovelies!  Wood Sorrel or Oxalis plants are thriving!  Each morning, I am greeted with hundreds of pinkish blooms! The blooms are said to symbolize joy and renewal.  Both seem appropriate simply for the feeling I get each day just by seeing the delicate flowers and that my body is trying to do a bit of rebuilding.  The heart shaped leaves are said to bring good luck and heart health....both which are always needed.  I am taking my lovely "Fig Tree Gardens" as a sign that this year of healing is going to bring me back to where I need to be.  But, for now, I shall be the lazy (but aching) Queen whose realm is going to have to fend for itself for the duration.  

Faerie House? Gnome Home? Just A Stinky Mushroom?

  Since I am back to being Queen of the Small Gardens instead of the Swamp Queen, I search for things to occupy the brain all within my realm.  This is getting exceedingly difficult since my realm now is quite small and devoid of the usual massive "rainforest" type plants.  Those perished with the winter freezes due to insufficient heat in the greenhouse.  (Never trust that flood lights can replace heat lamps.  They are not the same...but I used what I had on hand.)  That being the situation, I now have to search high and low for things to entertain myself.  As I slowly meandered the garden path, I felt depersonalized.  It almost seemed as if I did not belong here.  This was one of the first times ever that I overlooked what I told others to actually "see".  Something was just not right.  I entered the fenced vegetable plot that was usually filled with cabbages, broccoli and cauliflower heads just waiting to be harvested.  The rows sat empty....and sad.  Ok, so this was not helping my mood at all!  Everything needed to be fixed starting with my attitude!  That decided, I was determined to find that overlooked point of interest and, with it, rid myself of this almost feeling of self-pity!  Nope, that was not going to take hold and linger long.  It had to be remedied and fast!  I searched for that one elusive element that would set things right.

  That diversion came in the form of the lowly Clathrus Columnatus which is commonly known as a type of stinkhorn.  Yep.  One of those stinky mushrooms that most folks detest.  I admit to them not being a favorite of mine but this one bemused me.  I had found something that started the wheels of the brain to start a slow whir.  There was something about this stinkhorn that looked vaguely familiar.  I had to dig deep into the dusty corners of the mind...back behind the cobwebs and dust bunnies...to stumble upon a recollection of where I had encountered anything that triggered a slight memory of resemblance.  Then it hit me.  Way back in the day when I was a tot (eons ago), my Aunt Helen spent hours with me making faerie houses and gnome homes.  She had me convinced that these beings were real and lived among us all while unseen.  (I still kinda/sorta believe!)  We would create fantastical little houses from whatever was on hand and make pretty gardens of mosses, tiny flowers and pebbles to complete the perfect faerie/gnome paradise.  My found mushroom reminded me of those happiest of times spent in nature with a favorite aunt.  It was marvelous!  I could literally feel my doldrums being lifted and my spirits starting to soar again.  The Queen is back even if she has a smaller realm.  Let the imagination fly and let the kingdom flourish with magical and whimsical moments of joy and peace.

"This is my space!"

   Since I am sort of housebound again, hiking about the hillside is out of the question.  That saying about getting old is not for the weakhearted is quite accurate.  When things slam...well, they slam hard.  I miss going out and seeing my critter friends especially this time of year when things are awakening from the winter.  That said, you can imagine the allure of a single woodpecker drumming somewhere nearby.  As I slipped out the front door, I was in hopes that the bird was somewhere nearby...somewhere within my newly prescribe "range" of activity.  I sat quietly in the old wicker chair in the Small Gardens and listened.  Ok, so the drumming was to the west!  That narrowed it...a wee bit anyway.  Slowly, I shifted my position and listened intently.  It sure seemed that my friend was nearby simply by the potency of the noise.  I scanned the treetops.  Nothing.  Oh, come on, now!  Bird, you just have to be within my confined area!  

  I listened.  Wow!  That was loud!  Perhaps a Pileated Woodpecker made its way into the yard?  Perhaps my Redheaded Woodpeckers have returned after missing for a few years?  Surely, this was a large bird and could be easily seen.  Rap, rap, rap.  The drumming continued as I edged my way...ahem (don't tell)...slightly out of my realm of the Small Gardens and to the west.  Rap, rap, rap!  Oh, geez.  In an old pine near the camellia bushes, there was the source of the intense drumming.  It was not what I expected but still a happy surprise.  A tiny...really tiny...woodpecker was claiming this as its territory!  A small Downy Woodpecker kept pounding away on the hollow limb.  The 6 inch long bird was using this as a drum to send out its messages.  "Hey!  I claim this part of the yard as mine and I found the perfect nesting site."  My little friend was speaking and speaking LOUDLY!  

  You know, Folks, we are all a lot like those woodpeckers.  We lay claim to "our" territory even if it is an emotional space.  We have an innate need to pull into our own territory to decompress and analyze our own being.  This is a healing mechanism.  My physical territory has been limited to the Small Gardens, once again, until another healing process is complete.  This time it is due to a extreme bone density problem.  One fall, one misstep, one wrong twist can bring devastation to my body.  It drives me crazy.  I am stir-crazy already and the diagnosis was only brought to light about two weeks ago.  No more hikes, no more gardening, no more physical anything.  That said, I shall divert the attention to some long overdue creative projects that require the "dreaded" just sitting.  Being lazy hurts!  I have never had so many aches and pains!  These must be endured for the next year while the treatment does its thing but...it is all good.  There is a cure.  So, once again, I am crowning myself as "Queen of the Small Gardens"!  I am healed...or, at least, on the way to being...then, I shall reclaim "my entire territory" and shout it to the world like the drumming of my friend, the woodpecker!

  

Somewhere Beyond the Garden Gate

   Gardens are one of few places where you can find yourself while losing yourself.  It is hard to understand that if you are only exposed to well manicured lawns and overly neat flower beds.  I have neither of those.  It is my habit of letting things grow where they may and letting them spill over to greet the other plants as they please.  Parsley visits the basil while mingling with the wild purslane.  Tomatoes have made friends with petunias and zinnias all the while shaking hands with the jasmine vines.  Squash shade the bell peppers who have a tendency to hug the garlic.  It is this way throughout the yard.  Pathways lead you everywhere...yet nowhere.  You get lost among the towering plants that are blooming with birds, bees, lizards and butterflies.  Then...you find yourself.  

 

   I meandered through the lemon trees and around the crape myrtle on my way to the vegetable plot.  The gate was almost hidden by the 6 foot tall lemon grass, the turmeric and four-o-clocks.  A slight haze had settled in over the grape vines and fig trees making the whole place look mystical.   I gathered a few tomatoes, squash and cucumbers along with a handful of herbs, I was enthralled by the way the first rays of sunlight were filtering through the branches of the old oak trees.  The entire garden was dappled with bits of glimmering hope.  Then a thought...perhaps my garden is the way the world is actually meant to be...a bit disheveled...a little bit wild and woolly...yet filled with a whole lot of love, hope and peace.  Magic grows here among the plants and critters...the magic of tranquility.

  

Pretty, Little Damselfly

   The little Puddle Pond that is literally just a drainage catch from the eaves of the house has become quite an active place.   During the daytime hours, birds and squirrels love the running water that is merely recirculated with a pump to run down the 40+ feet of gravel (aka Pebble Creek) and, by night, raccoons, possums, deer and fox come to drink.  But it is those steady residents of toads, frogs, turtles, snakes and insects that make the little pond the perfect place.  These are the critters that become so accustomed to my presence that they make no effort to flee when I approach.  We are friends...of sort.

  This morning, I was fascinated by the sheer amount of dragonflies and damselflies around the little pond.  Puddle Pond is a nursery for the nymphs!  They can grow to maturity in the relative safety found among the water hyacinths that threaten to totally clog the puddle.  While the hyacinths need thinning, I am hesitant to pull any from the water.  Too much life depends upon those plants!

  Most of the critters in the pond can do without the hyacinths but the damselflies would not be overly happy if I rip out the plants.  Damselflies need plants.  After mating, the female damselfly chooses an aquatic plant, goes underwater to cut a slit in the stalk and lays her eggs.  After laying her eggs, the female will crawl back up the plant and exit the pond.  The eggs are safe within the stalk.  Soon the eggs hatch and the larvae crawl out of the plant and begin hunting in the water.  The larvae are completely aquatic and feed upon other aquatic creatures.  It is not until they reach their final molt that they crawl out of the water, cling to a plant, shed then start life anew as a full adult.

  After finding so many damselflies flitting about Puddle Pond, my chore of clearing the hyacinths will be postponed.  I can deal with that!  Life goes on in the small Puddle Pond at the end of Pebble Creek in the midst of the Small Gardens at the top of the hill above the Bayou.  Being Queen around here gives me the luxury of making such decisions.

Losing the Garden Path but Finding Paradise

   Lately, with the yard cleanup taking place mainly in the back part of the property, the Small Gardens have run amok with new growth.  I have had neither the time nor the energy to do even minor maintenance there. The Small Gardens now greatly resemble some wild and woolly rainforest!  Not that I mind as the prior work put into this area has proven to be worth the effort.  It gives a sense of serenity to wander through the overgrown tropical plants even in their unkempt state.

  

This morning, I took the time to transplant twenty hibiscus shrubs from their tiny six-inch seed pots into the border gardens before heading to the back cleanup.  As I was digging holes for the seedlings, the sun was just peeping over the pines on the opposite side of the Bayou.  As the rays started shooting down one of the garden paths, I was fully in awe of how secluded the area seemed.  The lush, healthy overgrowth nearly made the path unpassable.  Each nook and cranny held a different bloom or fruit.  Taking a few minutes from the task at hand, I breathed the sweet aromas of flowers and early morning freshness.  I listened as the birds chirped happily as they feasted upon the remnant blueberries and a few remaining figs.  I felt the morning dew and the cool breeze coming from the Bay.  I thought (and relished the thought) of how this was paradise.  This was how life should be.  This is what takes me from the stress of dealing with people's greed and drama to being perfectly blissful.  This is the magic of the Small Gardens.  This is where I belong...where I find tranquility.

The Forgotten Day

   Once again, Son came through for me.  With the scourge (of termites) that has taken over the entire Gulf Coast, wooden things do not stand a chance...even "treated" wooden things.  My rose arbors fell to the mighty bugs.  I, along with the rose bushes, was devastated!  My beautiful rose garden had fallen to shambles.  Then one thing or another got in the way of repairs.  You know...things like hurricanes, health and life in general.  Each time I walked through that section of the Small Gardens, I was saddened.  I tried to support the rose canes with hogwire cages but it was not the same as the beautiful arbors.

  Early in March, my birthday came and went. Other than my sister, my brother and his girlfriend and one cousin, nary a birthday wish came my way.  Most everyone simply forgot or simply do not care.  Most everyone except my daughter and son-in-law who thought to get flowers...not the florist type that die quickly but geranium plants.  I am elated! They know I love my gardens.  I am excited to have a new challenge as I have never grown rose geraniums before. Then, Son, too, did a gardening thing.  He built a new arbor!  He asked what type I would like and I told him that I would leave the design up to him.  I am now a happy camper with my new arbor for the rose bushes and some rose geraniums for the herb shelf.  

  With kiddos like this, I have no reason to be sad about growing older.  They do indeed try to keep things cheerful and I so appreciate them.  I can reclaim my title of Queen of the Small Gardens and amble through the Rose Garden and Herb Garden with pure glee.  Now, you will have to pardon me while I go train the roses to cover the arbor and tend to my geraniums.  

The Butterflies and Moths are Slacking!

   It is not often that I am fully taken aback by the comings and goings of the garden.  The garden, itself, is almost an entity.  There is an ever evolving life taking place in amongst the plants and critters that dwell in the confines of the Small Gardens especially in the vegetable plots.  Nothing should ever be doubted.  Nothing should ever be taken as a given.  Either way.  What you think will never work, sometimes shouts "Hey! Look at me now!" and the very thing that you think should flourish from the get-go, comes to a dismal end.

  We have not had much winter as of yet and you would think that would be a happy event for the plants.  Not so.  Most winter crops need that cold for protection from critters.  A winter vegetable garden is usually comprised more of cold hardy plants such as cabbages, cauliflower and broccoli.  There is a reason for this. These are lovely greens that are the mainstay diet of caterpillars.  Butterflies and moths are supposed to be dormant in winter which allows the greens to grow undisturbed.  Without the frigid air, the butterflies are out and about which means the garden is taking a beating from caterpillars.  My plants greatly resemble green lace!  It is saddening since my standards of gardening do not allow for chemical laden leaves.  I refuse to spray toxins on the plants that I wish to eat. 

  Imagine my surprise this morning after finally getting to the garden after a few days break doing building projects.  There amid the lovely "lace plants" was a beautiful head of broccoli just waiting to be picked!  Somehow, the egg-laying butterflies and moths missed this one and in just three days time, the head grew to fully harvesting size!  Surprises of this sort are exciting to me.  Maybe I have been quarantined as "Queen of the Small Gardens" a little too long when the highlight of my day is a head of broccoli...but...whatever works.  We shall dine royally this evening!

Making the Best of It

   Since being bound to the Bayou for the entire pandemic (by doctor's orders), I have found that I need to make my own entertainment or at least seek it out wherever it may be hiding.  For two years now, I have rarely left the place and few people have visited (again, doctor's orders).  Then for the past year, things even took a tighter turn.  The still unexplained episode that threw me in the emergency room confined me to a smaller area yet.  It was then that I crowned myself as "Queen of the Small Gardens".  My search for enjoyment seemed to be harder but I was not going to let some virus or some malady totally blow my outlook.  I turned more to the flora and fauna that was to be found literally in my "own backyard".  Needing to "do", I planted every available space with whatever seeds I had on hand.  Oh, man!  What a mishmash of gardens grew!  Vegetables were mixed in with flowers, vines climbed on anything that was within reach and gardening tools became my best friends. 

  This morning while out surveying the gardens for possible frost damage, I was elated to find that the peas were actually flourishing.  Tiny pods were dangling amongst the leaves and showing great promise of filling out with tasty peas!  In my excitement, I started thinking of how these (basically) little seed pods were like the plants jewels.  People wear jewelry...plants wear flowers and seed pods.  Nice!

  In a few weeks, the garden should start producing delightful goodies for our table.  Cabbages, broccoli, cauliflower, spinach, mustard greens, swiss chard and, yes, green peas!  Maybe being quarantined is not such a bad thing, after all.  Maybe...just maybe...I needed this to reflect upon the better things in life instead of all the trappings of a commercial world that is shoved down our throats.  Life is good, folks, life is good.

Mr. Sunbeam In My Garden!

  Being isolated here on the Bayou (due to health reasons), it is important that I do not fall into depression.  Any lapse can lead to boredom.  I am not as fortunate as others who can whisk in and out without a care.  I am under doctor's orders to steer clear of any potential illnesses for the time being.  That is fine.  I can manage.  Early on in the pandemic, it was common to hear "Two weeks of quarantine is an infringement of my rights!".  Try two years, folks.  Two years and counting.  But...it is ok.  I will deal.  I find things to entertain myself.  Thankfully, (as Son has often stated), I am easily entertained.  

 

  This morning's entertainment came in the form of a sunbeam that insisted on playing in the garden.  I was out early trying to replant the broccoli that the armadillos dug out overnight when I noticed an errant sunbeam shooting down through the garden.  I say "errant" as all of the other sunbeams were happily playing down near the marsh edge.  This one came visiting me.  This delighted me to the point where I spent the time watching just where the beam would go next.  (Yes, I am grasping, at this point.)

  When the beam lit upon the last marigolds in the garden, I just had to photograph my "new found friend".  For a good two minutes, the beam dappled the marigold plant with its glorious light.  Then, as quickly as it came, the sunbeam scampered off to join its siblings near the marsh.  My morning visit had ended.  Now there are those who will claim that this is a bit of senility setting in but I beg to differ.  It is purely a matter of keeping entertained enough to ride through this phase.  Once my health improves or people gather enough sense to stop spreading viruses, things will change.  In the meantime, however, I will keep chasing sunbeams or even moonbeams...whichever comes out to play while I am in the Small Gardens.   (Being Queen of the Small Gardens gives me that power!)

Autumn Marigolds

  Maybe I am the only one but I do believe that marigolds are some of the prettiest fall flowers.  Nothing says "autumn" as much as marigolds when you are out strolling the gardens.  Perhaps this is a throwback to growing up on the farm and seeing the masses of marigolds that Pop used to grow or maybe to Mom using them to decorate for her "ladies' meetings" held at the house.  Either way, memories are tied to these blooms.  While others rush to buy mums, I merely toss out a few saved marigold seeds and let them fend for themselves.  The plants do well with little care, bugs don't munch on them and they are drought tolerant (or, in the case of this year, do well with much rain).

  Now throw in a couple of butterflies and all seems right with the world...at least, in the Small Gardens.  Back last year, I spent so much time in the Small Gardens that I crowned myself as "Queen".  It still holds true as I am still, more or less, tied here.  It is in these gardens and on the Bayou where good is still good, bad is still bad and the gators solve many problems...hehe...little joke there, folks.  That idea does make for some mighty good tales, however.  Autumn on, folks.  Look forward to brighter days ahead...hopefully.

Find your smiles

   It is far from being complete but the yard is finally getting to where I enjoy being in it again.   Due to hurricanes and health issues, the place had fallen into disarray.  It was disheartening and, to be totally honest here, I had no energy to even care about it much less fix it.  Also, to be honest again, it was the health issue that kicked me in gear.  Last July I had what the hospital claimed was a stroke.  My personal doctor has a problem calling it anything of the sort since all tests show differently.  Even a year later, there still has not been a clear cut diagnosis so I figure I would not fret over it.  It was during my "quarantine" (time where I was literally confined to what I started calling the "Small Gardens" by orders of Son) that I decided on a plan for the gardens.  Instead of a beautiful lawn and a few well placed flower beds, the entire hillside (over 4 acres) would be transformed into "rooms" with pathways connecting them.  I was not going to interfere with the wooded 4 acres but concentrate, instead, on what was cleared.  Starting with my designated area of the Small Gardens, things started being changed.  At first, I could not do much more than pull a few weeds or paint a gate.  Healing had to take place for me just as much as for the yard. It became a challenge that kept me pushing myself.   Get up, do physical therapy, work as much as I could in the yard, still do the home canning and then sit back and plan what was next.

  This morning as I was out at daybreak, a huge smile spread across my face as I found my first "enchanted" place.  I took the new pathway up the west side of the yard instead of the usual east.  I had just finished this area and wanted to "feel" the happiness.  As I reached the back side of Puddle Pond, rays from the rising sun started filtering through the shrubs. Wow! The enchantment was real!  I smiled.  I really smiled with pure glee at the sight.  No, it was not a massive, slap me up side the head change but was a wee nook of the garden that made me feel totally blissful.  My dream was happening!  

  Are the Small Gardens finished?  Nope and they probably never will be.  This is a work in progress. There is still an incredible amount of work to be done and I shall slowly get there.  The health has greatly improved in some ways but other things have been found that are setbacks.  Still, if I want to have a happy place, I have to keep striving toward it.  If ever the need arises that I have to be confined to the Small Gardens again, I want those smiles to come with each turn of a path.  The entire place will be filled with quirky finds such as the heron decoy (Hurricane Katrina debris) or the leftover Clue Hunt on the Bayou prop bottle tree.  Life is far too short to be stodgy and nitpicky about where the path takes you.  Just go and find the smiles.

Storms, Gardens and The Queen!

   Storms come and storms go.  A lot of the times, they do major damage to places like the Little Bayou House because it sits so near to the Bayou and Bay.  The winds coming across the open water build and can be much stronger than say a mile inland. Then, we get the storm surge.  Since the Bayou extends inland from the Bay, the water is "bottlenecked" into our area.   These are hazards that come with the joy of living here.  I do not complain because I do not wish to change.  It is here that I find my peace. 

  Then, there are storms like the "potential" tropical cyclone that hit last night.  This Hurricane No Name was not supposed to be worthy of much preparation.  It was "supposed" to come in do its thing and leave.  Well, Hurricane No Name had different ideas!  (Yes, I am calling it a hurricane because, the winds were. at times, hurricane strength.  At just about 3am, the winds were clocked at right about 100mph and that lasted for over an hour.)  Whether you want to believe the forecasters or someone who just witnessed the storm first hand is your choice.  It bothers me not.  Still, the storm raged for nigh on ten hours with the high winds and torrential rains (our gauge topped out at 6 inches long before the storm ceased).

  Imagine this morning when I found that the gardens still look remarkably well after limbs and debris were removed.  The pier is basically intact with only a few planks missing and the ramp loosened.  The debris line is minimal since the marsh was just recently cleaned by another storm.  All in all, I would say we were mighty blessed.  

  Back to those gardens, I was surprised that once the trash was pulled, the plants started straightening themselves from their wind-flattened positions.  This evening, things look pretty darn good for having taken such a beating.  A little cleaning, a little raking, a little organizing and we are back!  It is grand being Queen of the Small Gardens even if I am self-appointed.

The Family Is Growing

   It seems that word has gotten out that I will do my best to protect mama birds that are trying to hatch and raise their little ones.  After actually going out in the middle of hurricanes last year to secure nests made in hanging plant baskets and literally (hand) grabbing marauding snakes, I think birds are starting to trust me.  First the little wren made her nest in a potted rose bush that sits right next to my favorite chair and then a cardinal made hers in Grandmother's rose that is next to the garden gate.  I am within two feet of these birds any number of times each day.  Having the birds this trusting does the old heart a lot of good.  They understand.

  Mama Wren is incubating five eggs while, so far, Mama Cardinal has three.  A couple of days ago, I built a little fence to fit snugly around the potted rose which houses the wren.  Hopefully, this will keep the feral cat and wild raccoons from trying to get the eggs or baby birds.  The cardinal actually has a pretty good hedge of rose thorns around her which should deter any predators other than snakes.  It is my hopes that I can keep watch on both little families.  As self proclaimed Queen of the Small Gardens, I have become quite attached to my critter friends and prefer to have them safe and sound.

  

Critters In The Garden!

   While out working in the gardens this afternoon, I noticed that yet another of my critter friends came to visit.  This time, a mockingbird was my helper.  The bird was busying itself investigating the cabbages for worms.  Even though the birds scratch around in the mulch or sometimes cannot resist taking a nip out of the crops, I welcome birds into the garden.  These are free pest control and they fall under that category as being fully ecologically safe and organic!  In fact, there are very few critters that are not welcome around here.  

  I do have to wonder if it is possible that this is one of the mockingbirds that I raised after they were orphaned.  When I got the pair, they were so tiny that neither had much in the way of feathers and could do little more than flop around in the makeshift nest.  It was a daunting task to take on raising yet more critters and especially ones so tiny.  It became my duty to do round the clock feedings something I had not done in some 30 years at the time.  Happy to say, both birds survived and then adopted our old dog as their surrogate mom.  She was so very protective of her wards.  The birds flourished and I allowed them to come and go as they pleased for a while by keeping the screen door open.  Soon, they made their way to being "real" birds and joined their wild cousins.  Both did come back for a while to visit.  I would often find one clinging to the screen door wanting to come back inside the Little Bayou House.  Of course, they were welcome to enter and stay as long as they pleased.   Could this be Knox or Shelby?  Who knows?  I seriously doubt it but it is nice to think perhaps one or both are still around.  Regardless, the little mockingbird brought happiness to the day and I will take that!

Making Lemonade?

   The old saying "When life hands you a basket of lemons, make lemonade" holds true for my chores of the day.  After enduring the stifling "don't do that" woes for months, I was just about resigned to the idea of staying "Queen of the Small Gardens" for the rest of my days.  Then, a doctor visit and a hurricane visit changed that drastically.  Just days prior Hurricane Zeta slammed us, I received the "ok" to resume a somewhat normal schedule.  Life was good.  Wham!  Hurricane Zeta.  Life is hard.

  With the mountains of debris left behind when Zeta left, there was nothing else to do other than push up the shirt sleeves and get to work.  I found that if I sorted a section of debris, cleared out anything large and spread it thinly, I could use the lawnmower to cut it to a fine mulch.  Great!  With a burn ban initiated, the mulching helped to eliminate a good bit of debris.  At least now I had huge mounds of powdery fine mulch instead of unsightly mounds of rough debris!  Still...what do you do with about two tons (yes, that is what I have cut already) of mulch?  Well, you take those lemons and make lemonade!  

  I took a few days to clear the limbs and roofing from the vegetable plot and found that the cabbages still looked relatively in good shape.  A brilliant idea popped in the head (the second...the first being transforming a lawnmower into a mulch grinder)!  Use a good bit of that mulch in the garden!  So...28 loads in a wheelbarrow were pushed up the hill and into the garden area.  Using some of the salvaged planks, a pathway was laid out and the garden started receiving the mulch.  It worked perfectly in the garden and I started seeing the mounds growing smaller and smaller. 

  Now the idea of mulching all the pathways is starting to run around in the brain.  Clearing the gardens is my "playtime" after doing debris cleanup.  Moving the loads of mulch and seeing the progress is good for the morale.  We still have tons of trees down that need to be cut for firewood, a roof and windows to be replaced in one of the out buildings and the entire pier to be rebuilt but progress is progress no matter how slow.  A glass of lemonade sounds good right about now.  

Back To The Small Gardens

   Way deep in the dark forest that surrounds the depths of the Bayou, is a mystical, magical world that often goes unseen.  I wish I could tell you some incredible story that took place there today but that is not happenin', folks.  Instead, you will have to marvel at the mystical, magical world of the gardens.  A minor setback in the health kept me from venturing far from the place.  Son objects to me wandering off by myself if/when the body is catawampus.  So, I meandered the Small Gardens once again and was reminded of how I reigned as Queen here for several months.  This was my realm.  Today, it was once again.

  During the stroll, I did manage to find several interesting spots.  One was by far the most intriguing and could have very well been seen in that descriptive place in the opening sentence.   In the midst of a dead Black Gum Tree, I found a most beautiful (to me) cluster of shelf mushrooms that were bordered by some similarly colored clump mushrooms.  This seemed to be the perfect spot for the fungi to thrive.  It was damp, dark and secluded.  It could have been the unseen world that included gnomes, faeries and elves!  (Yeah, when feeling decrepit, the brain turns to a fantasyland to compensate.  Since long physical hikes are out of the question, I tend to travel in the mind.)

  In reality, the mushrooms were breaking down the dead wood.  They hasten the decay, then the nutrients go back into the soil to be reused by new plants. The stump of the dead Black Gum Tree has been at the edge of the gardens for some years. I never removed it as numerous birds used it as a feeding spot.  A plethora of insects tunnel in the rotted wood drawing the birds.  Now, it is the mushrooms turn to feed upon the old tree.  Life goes on in one form or another.