Hope Returns

   Early this morning after a drizzly rain, I slipped out into the small gardens to see if any of my newly planted seeds had sprouted.  I am late getting the plots ready since I am on "light duty" for the rest of this year.  No digging means no rows which, in turn, means no gardens. Still, where there's a will...there is usually a way so I did the next best thing of planting without well turned soil.  Armed with a trowel and a small hand rake, I planted.  Now we shall wait and see if the feeble efforts turn into something durable.  

  The garden, however, was not the highlight of my early morning traipsing.  Again, that light duty is also tied tightly with limits as to where I can go unaccompanied.  The pier (also known as "my favorite sunrise place") is definitely out of my realm but that does not mean that I cannot edge my way to the clearing where I can view the length of the path and pier.  I did and I saw an old friend just waiting at this end of where the pier starts.  A Great White Egret was resting while watching the mudflats for anything she could have for breakfast.  This is a bird that I named "Hope" several years ago when the whole country was in the midst of the COVID scare.  That was the same time that I had a stroke and was bound to the Small Gardens for the duration of my recovery.  (Much the same as now but for different reasons.)  Hope and I got to know each other rather well since I was deemed a "non-threat".  She would come to visit each day and we would while away an hour or so just being together.  Neither of us made much effort to "tame" the other but it was like we had an understanding.  Now...she is back.

  Hope looked a little worse for wear after the stormy weather of the past few days. Her feathers were ruffled and she looked tired...much like me.  I am not sure the bird recognized me after my absence but there was no forgetting her.  She helped me before and I almost got the feeling she understood my plight once again as she came a bit closer to where I was sitting.  There, we visited...me on the upturned old boat on shore while she stopped about twenty feet from me.  We stayed...I talked...she listened and watched for bull minnows in the marsh.  Good friends are like that.  Good friends just care.

A Dangerous Beauty

   For as long as I can remember, Flame Lilies (also known as Fire Lilies or Gloriosa Lilies) have adorned the gardens of many family members.  Pop had them.  Aunt Marie had them.  The "Lamey Twins" had them.  Just about every yard had the things growing (and often growing out of control).  My lilies have gotten out of control.  They are everywhere.  Their stunning blooms brighten all corners of the gardens and have sort of taken over the entire place.  I have got to figure a way of putting a damper on the rapid proliferation of these things or I may as well give up on any diversity in the plants.  They are getting that bad.

  Now...as beautiful as they are, comes the bad part.  These things are highly poisonous!  Don't eat them!  Don't even taste them!  And, surely, do not let the kiddos or the family pet gnaw on them.  All parts are toxic and are deadly to both humans and animals.  Supposedly, only porcupines can tolerate the plant and, unfortunately, I have none around here to help me stifle the growth of the lilies.  

  With no help in sight, I suppose I shall have to dig and destroy many of the lovely lilies.  It saddens me to do so but they just cannot take over the whole place.  Just a note...if you do handle any part of the lily, wear gloves or, at least, make sure to thoroughly wash your hands!  Ummm...this comes from someone who never wears gloves and does not wash the hands after each plant.  Oh, well...pray for me!

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.  

"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!

  

Secrets Along The Garden Paths

   Some of the best kept secrets can be found in the garden. Each morning offers a new surprise whether in the form of baby birds, caterpillars transforming to butterflies or blooms that are there only for those who search.  My gardens are pretty much left to wild abandon as plants seem to outgrow their gardens or pots.  This "rainforest" look offers plenty of hiding spots for the critters.  Each leaf is alive with lizards, skinks and frogs, not to mention, myriads of bugs.  Turtles, snakes and toads are often found hiding in the shadiness of the winding paths of the Small Gardens.  These are friends that are welcome to reside here but its those hidden blooms that intrigue.  

  Yesterday, the turmeric plants did not disappoint.  The lush (five feet tall) leaves had to be pushed aside to see the blooms.  These appear down in the midst of the stalks and bear a great resemblance to a fleshy pinecone of bright colors.  Most in the garden are white with bright pink and yellow flowers in the bracts.  While some of the flowers are edible, there are a few that are not.  Those are strictly ornamental.  (It is best to know just what type you are growing before foraging any parts!)  Edible or not, the turmeric blooms offer a bit of whimsy along the garden path.  Most folks walk right past without ever seeing this beauty.

  Another "almost" hidden bloom was found after the turmeric bracts.  A waterlily had opened a gorgeous pink bloom but it was half hidden beneath the pads.  Usually, the blooms are on stalks that are above the floating pads (leaves) but this time that was reversed.  The pads were stalked and curled upwards while the bloom floated on the water's surface.  As a bit of added interest, all parts of the waterlily are edible, although, I have not had a whim to try them...maybe some day soon.

  Folks, there is something highly tranquil about taking a stroll down a garden path at the break of dawn and finding hidden secrets of either flora or fauna.  We all need that in the craziness of the world around us.  In the gardens...there is peace.

Arrival of the Toads

  To me, there is nothing better than spying a couple of toads in the gardens.  I try to leave their "dens" (small dugout cubbies) so the critters feel at ease and will continue to reside amongst the vegetable plants and flowers.  Their voracious appetites for bugs works wonders in protecting the plants.  Not only will toads munch down insects, they will quickly down slugs and snails which makes me (and the plants) all the happier.  So, the toads stay...along with frogs, lizards and non-venomous snakes.  All of these are a true gardener's friends.

  On either side of the house, there is a small pond.  One, I named the "Frog Pond" for obvious reasons.  Frogs and toads love this safe place to gather, mate and lay eggs.  It is not uncommon to find thousands of tadpoles hiding under the lily pads and water hyacinths.  The other pond is much smaller so is named "Puddle Pond".  Puddle Pond is merely a catch pool for runoff from the house eaves.  I concreted a small "stream" alongside the length of the house and then down the hillside just a wee bit.  This small pond also has become a haven for treefrogs and toads. Once again, the hyacinths provide a thick protection from predators so the frogs and toads feel safe.  Both ponds are within the gardens so my critter friends do not have far to go to find their dinner.

  This is the time of year for those billion or so tadpoles to start morphing into their adult selves and leave the safety of their watery homes.  One has to be careful when wandering the gardens simply to avoid stepping on these tiny critters.  They are no bigger than a pea and, since the toads are dark in color, hard to see when in mulch.  Thankfully, they are a bit "squishable" and can pull themselves back together if I make a misstep.  

  One such tiny toad was making his exit from the Puddle Pond when I was out and about.  The tiny critter hurriedly hippity-hopped up the concrete "stream" to the chive row where it quickly disappeared under the leaf mulch.  The sighting caused me to smile as I whispered out well-wishes to the wee one.  Now, hopefully, it will avoid the ribbon snake that lives about ten feet further down that stream and the black racer that lives under the plant arbor just to the outside of the chive row.  Be safe, Little One!  You have a big chore ahead of you keeping my garden free from pests!

Oh, Those Tomatoes!

 When will I ever learn?  Every year when I start to sow seeds for the garden (early spring), I have dozens of folks claim, "Oh, I would love a few plants for my garden!"  So....I sow.  I plant far too many seeds and, when the time comes, I cannot pawn the plants off on anyone!   Well, two of my sisters-in-law, took a few plants but, other than that, the others made excuses.  I heard..."I cannot dig my garden plot." to "Gardening seemed like fun but now it is too hot."  Yeah, well, what am I to do with a bajillion tomato plants?  I plant...and plant...and plant.  The garden plot has nothing but tomatoes this year.  Then, there are those that are dotted in the flower beds and any other available spot.  Thankfully, Mark made a ton of garden boxes this spring so the cucumbers, squash, peppers and green beans all have their own space...but, oh, those tomatoes.

  The plants grew to unheard of heights and started plopping over onto each other.  Each was crated but they soon outgrew the crates and decided to hug each other.  I hated to try staking simply because each plant was loaded with tiny fruit...seriously...loaded!  For the past week or so, those tomatoes have started ripening.  Usually, they are allowed to fully ripen on the plant as that gives them the sweetest flavor.  Even the cardinals that also occupy the Small Gardens decided that the fruit were delectable.  Before I knew it, five large tomatoes were half pecked to pieces by the male cardinal as he toted tidbits back to his ladylove on the nest.  While this is awfully heartwarming, the critter was ruining my plans of harvesting ALL of the tomatoes.  (I am also positive that he ate his share, as well.)  There was nothing to do but pick the ripest tomatoes. 

  While I understand the cardinal's plight of finding food, I have difficulty seeing the positive side of people's desire for my ripened tomatoes.  Sorry, folks.  If you cannot make the least bit of an effort to care for a plant after it is offered to you, do not assume that you can raid my garden.  Yep, I am that way.  I will give and give to those in need, the elderly and any who lift a helping hand but not those that come across as lazy and greedy.  It appears that the "Little Red Hen Syndrome" is spreading.  (If you are not familiar with the term..look it up.  It is a real thing...just based on a children's book from back in the day.  It says volumes even though it is a short, lighthearted tale.)  Folks, my advice is this...if you wish to reap the rewards, lend a helping hand.  I will give "til the cows come home" but not to those who will not help themselves.  But...in the meantime, oh, those tomatoes!  Those beautiful, ripe tomatoes that will soon be tasty sauce for the pantry shelf!

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.

  

Because it is there...and it is cute!

 A few mornings ago when we were on our way to the pier, Mark pointed out a small toad just past the herb gardens.  It was a pretty thing, as far as toads go, so I had to stop to get a photograph.  Most folks would ask "Why photograph a toad?"  Well, just because it was there.  And toads are interesting.  And toads are helpful.  And I consider them to be friends of the garden.  There are lots of reasons but probably none that would appeal to most people.

  It is breeding season for the toads around here so the two little ponds are alive with activity each night.  You can hear the loud, shrill calls for hours just after nightfall.  Those calls are from the males in search of a mate.  Once the deed is done, the female will lay thousands (yes, really) of eggs that are all strung together with a sticky, gelatinous goop.  This keeps the eggs together and helps protect them.  After a few weeks, the eggs will hatch and the ponds will be filled with tadpoles.  Then, depending on conditions, the tadpoles will morph into toadlets and leave their watery abode.  Now, they are more or less terrestrial critters until mating time comes around. 

  Most toads are nocturnal and prefer to find a hiding spot to spend the day.  At night, however, they are busy patrolling the gardens eating insects, worms, snails, slugs and other garden pests.  My sweet little toad is welcome to any and everything it wishes to devour in the garden.  These critters are great pest control!  And...they are sort of cute...in a toadish way!

  Folks, be kind.  All critters deserve a peaceful life.  

A Gift Along The Garden Path

   As I age, I find that my perspective on a lot of things has changed.  Some of that perspective has changed for the better and...well...some just has changed.  A lot of folks would be quick to say that those particular changes are not to "their" liking.  Does that bother me?  Not one iota as these last years on this old world are mine to be filled however I choose.  My perspective on life in general is no one else's business so I shall go about my day as I please.  One of the things that brings a wee bit of joy is to wander the garden paths just as the morning sun is peeking over the pines on the far side of the Bayou.  As that light filters through the broad oaks with their dense leaves, tiny parts of my world are spotlighted.  Perhaps without those pinpoints of light, my poor, old eyes would never see the miniscule features along the way.  In my way of thinking, those morning "dots" are gifts for me alone.  

  This morning's special gift was a common Gulf Fritillary Butterfly.  Masses of these come each fall for a visit so I have seen thousands upon thousands of the same type.  This is not some rare butterfly nor is it the most interesting but, early this morning, it was incredibly special.  I had just climbed the tiered steps up from the pier into the Small Gardens, when a single beam of light highlighted the butterfly.  The insect was still wet from the overnight rains.  It obviously had been caught off-guard of the coming storm as it chose a roosting spot with poor protection.  As I neared, the butterfly never twitched but sat perfectly motionless in hopes that I would not notice it.  This is a defense mechanism since most predators hunt by motion.  

  Not wanting to disturb the lovely creature, I photographed it then slowly backed away...leaving it in peace.  Later as I was picking lemon balm, the butterfly flitted around the nearby zinnias and brought more delight.  In my point of view, this interaction between human and critter was far more meaningful that most of the conversations that I have had with "people" recently.  I felt blessed in more ways than one.

Taking Time for Autumn

   Being down here on the Bayou by myself most of the time, I sort of lose track of time.  There is no need for it.  This sounds strange for someone who collects and repairs antique clocks.  "There is no need for keeping track of time."  But...here I am.  I pretty much live by the "feel" of things.  Most days are centered around the weather not time.  I plant when the weather is right.  I work when the weather is right.  I fish when the weather is right.  There are days when I cannot tell you the time, the day of of the week or even what day of the month it is.  There is no "rat-race" when the rats are doing their thing and I am doing mine.  I go for months without ever leaving the place. 

  That said, I do pretty much keep track of seasons!  Those are hard not to recognize when they flip.  Today, it occurred to me that autumn must be near.  As I was working the Small Gardens for my fall planting, a sure sign of the seasonal change was evident.  Next to the gate of the vegetable garden, two stalks of blooms wafted gently on the breeze.  One was the chives that now dot the hillside in wild abandon and the other was a nerine lily.  Usually, hundreds of these blooms (both) can be spotted around the place but with the severe drought that has befallen us, these are the only two to be found.  Both of these are spindly due to that lack of rain.  It saddens me but, at the same time, gives me hope.  If it is autumn, perhaps we shall began to see some rain coming our way. and the summer heat will be pushed away for a few months.  I am ready for that change and thankful that the plants are doing their best to remind me that it is "time" for the seaonal change.

Shieldbacked Pine Seed Bug?

   I am definitely not an entomologist as I have to seek the identities of just about every critter I find in the garden and around the Bayou.  I do, however, have an interest in insects merely because I want to know which are pests and which are helpers.  Those deemed as garden pests are not high on the list of favorites.  So, if I find an insect that is new to the gardens, I pull out the camera, photograph the critter then try to catch it.  Catching it gives me the option of disposing of it or releasing it depending on which side of the good/bad list it falls.  While I hate killing anything, some infestations must be eradicated quickly.

  It was while I was hanging clothes to dry that I spied an unusual (to me) bug near the garden fence.  First came the pictures then came the capturing.  It turned out to be a rather simple catch.  The critter sort of fell into my jar then laid on its back with its little legs flailing wildly in the air.  The search for information began.

  As near as I can tell, my critter is a Shieldbacked Pine Seed Bug.  To be honest, I did not know these even existed.  Once I identified it, the bug was taken down to the water's edge and released into the palmettoes.  I was confident that a bug that eats pine seeds would not hurt my tomatoes!  Then I read more.  It seems that the bug can be quite destructive in pine forests as it renders the seeds useless.  Well, now.  I started having second thoughts about my release of the critter.  Perhaps I should not have been so hasty.  Ponder...ponder.

  That slight regret soon was replaced with a new thought.  I am not overly fond of pine trees around the house.  Those things have a tendency to break during hurricanes and have been known to put huge holes in the roof of the Little Bayou House.  Maybe...just maybe...that bug was doing me a favor by not allowing more pine trees to grow.  As long as it does not start eating all of the acorns from the oak trees, I think it is safe to say I will not have problems.  The pine trees can go. Leave my oaks.  Little buggy can go on his way.

Here Today...

   Years and years ago, my granddad rooted a small branch of a Night Blooming Cereus for me.  The plant flourished and was soon putting on quite the show with its late night blooms.  Then came kids and the poor plant was sorely neglected as my attention was diverted to child rearing.  Somehow, the plant survived all of those years with little to no care other than protecting it from the cold.  After the kids were grown, I was able to turn my attention back to the gardens.  Time and weather (hurricanes) had wreaked havoc on most of the gardens but the cereus lived on through it all.  It was time to bring the plant back to its full glory.  I started rooting and sharing the plants with anyone who wanted one and potting dozens to keep.  I also spent much time enjoying the summertime blooms...albeit late at night.  The blooms are gone by daybreak.

  The odd timing and shortness of bloom-time got me to pondering (as I am prone to do about most everything, as of late.)  Perhaps, just perhaps, this plant is here for a reason...if you are inclined to seek the purpose of all things.  With the huge, 8 inch, frilly flowers representing the beauty of life in general, the shortness of bloom time could be a reminder that all things should be enjoyed in the moment.  We should take the time to be grateful for what we are granted...WHEN it is granted.  What is here today, may be gone tomorrow.  Folks, find time to be thankful for all things for nothing is guaranteed.  Life, itself, is fleeting.

When Searching For Beauty, There Is No Reason To Be Ugly!

   Back in early spring, Mark bought two packets of seeds that were advertised as "rare black, pink and purple hibiscus".  He knows that I love plants of any sort and thought these gorgeous blooms would add greatly to the garden.  Each packet contained twenty+ seeds and, true to the description, every last seed sprouted within days.  I was elated to say the least.  Sometimes, it can be a bit tricky to get seeds to sprout especially when the seller is not someone that is personally known.  I was pleased, to say the least.  Below is the advertised bloom.  It is truly amazing!

  After the plants grew to about three inches tall, I potted them in individual pots and shared some with Darling Daughter and with my sweet sister-in-laws making sure to describe the blooms that were supposed to soon adorn the plants.  They were as excited as I was!  From there, the plants grew rapidly and needed to be put in larger pots so...I repotted.  The hibiscus plants were now in one-gallon pots.  Imagine how much space the nigh on forty remaining plants took.  They grew...larger.  Well...now.  I was running out of pots so twenty-eight hibiscus plants were planted directly in the garden.  Here, in the Deep South, hibiscus shrubs can overwinter with just a healthy mound of mulch covering them...plus, I still had over a dozen in pots.  

  Imagine my surprise when several of the potted plants started setting buds.  A mere three months after planting the seeds, I was to have blooms on my "rare black, pink and purple" hibiscus!  The plants were guarded carefully so the Eastern Lubber Grasshoppers would not munch the buds.  (Those critters will eat anything and everything!)  The plants were carefully watered and moved around to give them optimal lighting.  The plants were watched with great expectations!  Below is the bloom I got!

  Then...this morning...one gorgeous six-inch bloom opened to greet the morning sun!  Oh, happy day!  Except...wait!  I checked the saved seed pouch and it still said "rare black, pink and purple" hibiscus.  Uh..well..umm...no.  No, no, NO!  There was not the combination of colors mentioned.  While the flower was stunning and I love it, it was not black, pink and purple.  Not even close.  It was white.  WHITE!!! Granted it has a deep red throat, the petals are WHITE!  SNOW WHITE!  The bloom is white!  Alrighty, then.  My plans for a midnight-colored garden were abruptly altered.  My only idea is to have these hibiscuses as stars?  Hopefully, some of the other shrubs will have colors as advertised but, for now, I have white.  Lovely...but not what was sold.  Most likely, some of the other plants will produce the lovely, colored bloom as advertised.  If not, I am not disappointed at all since every seed sprouted and turned into healthy plants.  Stray, "throwback" plants are not unheard of and the seller had a great return policy "if not satisfied".  Will I return or complain?  Nope.  I am tickled pink with the hibiscus plants with whatever color they bloom.  Just because something is different than what is expected, when searching for beauty, there is no reason to be ugly.  I will simply look forward to seeing the blooms and continue sharing the plants no matter what color!  Happiness is how you look at things not in what you think they should be.

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.

Pine Wood Floors

   There are several different types of wood floors in the Little Bayou House.  The kitchen has pecan wood, the dining room has cedar and the bedrooms have pine.  Why so many different types?  We used what we could get after several hurricanes ruined the existing floors.  Supplies are hard to come by after storms so you take what is available and do not complain.  I do not mind as I am just happy that the house withstood some of the worst hurricanes on record.  We were blessed to still have a home after Hurricane Katrina and after each storm since. 

  Today, however, the pine wood floors are not indoors!  As I was out tending the Small Gardens, a steady "plipping" sound could be heard.  It almost sound like raindrops but, with nary a cloud in the sky, that was impossible.  The sounds were coming from one of the pathways through the west gardens.  I made my way through the wandering maze of paths to the exact spot!  A lot had changed since I worked this area two days ago!  

  The plipping sound was caused by pine cone petals being dropped from the top of several trees alongside the garden path.  Squirrels were gnawing the cones and dropping the petals as they searched for the pine nuts hidden inside the cone.  Those petals had made a carpet covering every inch of the ground under the trees!  I now have "pine wood floors" in the west garden area!  

  The silly squirrels are not using their brains by eating the pine nuts now.  Those seeds would carry them over through a harsh winter if left on the trees.  There are plenty of fruits, berries and other seeds that will not be around during the winter months.  These critters just may regret their doings once food is a bit scarce but they did make the paths pretty!

Let Them Sleep

   I rise before dawn and relish my alone time while I meander the Small Gardens.  It is here that I can revel in the beauty of the new day and give thanks for the peaceful sleep of the night before.  It is also here that I find a lot of my critter friends.  We share a love for the wildness of the overgrown plants and the dewy coolness that the night has brought.  

  This morning found me almost entranced by a single bumblebee that was snuggled down inside calyx of a spent bloom of the mist plant.  The bee had probably sought shelter for the night but had not been warned of the predawn thunderstorm.  My poor friend was waiting for the sun to dry its wings and warm it so it could continue its daily foraging.  I let the little one sleep even though the plant needed deadheading.  Bees are of high importance to anyone who gardens so they are treated kindly.

  It is funny how it never occurs to some folks that things like bees sleep.  Just like us, they need rest and will seek out some cozy spot to bed down for the nighttime hours.  My little bee friend did not choose its napping place wisely as the rains had to be startling.  Perhaps next time, it should shelter beneath the ginger leaves.  Rest on, Little One.  I bid you a good day.

Euphoria?

   The old adage of "Red sky at night, sailor's delight.  Red sky in morning, sailor's warning." holds true most of the time.  Sometimes, however, that red sky (or golden in yesterday's case) is eerily beautiful, if that makes sense.  We have had a good number of thunderstorms lately and after yesterday's rain, the sky turned remarkably golden.  Although I was inside, the vividness of orange lit up the room.  Curious, I had to head outside to see what was happening.  Seriously?  Not much other than the entire sky was orangish colored but it made the whole place "feel" different.  As I meandered through the back gardens, a feeling of inexplicable euphoria overcame me.  Since I was alone, I came to feel as if this "magical sunset" was meant just for me.  I quietly padded along the footpaths without a care in the world.  (Too bad that feeling cannot be everlasting.)  Soon enough a slight mist started falling again and forced me to take cover.

  Back inside, I could only admire the beauty through the window.  Still, I smiled.  I had been submerged into the mysteriousness of an early evening stroll. The smells, the sounds, the closeness of nature...always make the heart sing.

No Spitting Allowed!

   Several times in the past, I mentioned the two-striped walking stick bugs.  When I was a curious tyke, I was given plenty of warnings to steer clear of the critters.  "Spit Tobaccos can spit at you and you will be hurt."  Pop let my curiosity be sated with exploration of most critters but not ones that would cause harm.  I was allowed to hold non-venomous snakes and spiders, catch beetles, play with squirrels, rabbits and even baby fox but, at the same time, I was taught to respect all critters and give the harmful ones plenty of space.  In other words, I was encouraged to "view those from a safe distance". The two-striped walking stick can cause severe pain and even a temporary blindness with its "spit".  I still follow Pop's rules...somewhat.

  As I was watering the garden, a slight movement in a potted amaryllis made me take a closer look.  As the leaves were pushed aside, a walking stick came inching out and sat on the outer edge of a leaf.  It moved no further even though I busily watered the other plants for a full twenty minutes.  The bug sat there as if to inform me of its presence in hopes that I would not further disturb its peace.  I did not.  The bug (or in this case, bugs) and I shared the space with  not further ado.  

  Most folks would have been a bit squeamish about having the walking stick nearby.  Just the thought of a 5 inch long,  "tobacco juice" spitting bug can prove to be daunting to some.  I, on the other hand, go by the mantra of live and let live..as much as possible.  With the walking stick, I may come to regret this decision as they do eat plants.  For now, the critter can live in peace as long as it does not spit.  Spitting is disgusting in all forms!