Advice from a cat!

   Today was supposed to be stormy with a big threat of tornadoes moving in by midmorning.  Admittedly, the sky did look ominous and, by all means, those oddly colored clouds should have been the harbinger of bad weather.  Here it is 7pm and, thankfully, no storms have occurred.  The overnight hours may tell a different story but, for the time being, all is quiet.  No rain...no wind...just heavy fog.

  The horizon did, indeed, appear to be trying to conjure up a good bit of turbulence.  In fact, even two hours after the time for the sun to rise, the hillside was still shrouded in darkness.  My walk was tinged with eeriness and even  Bat, the cat, was nervous.  At one point, he had strayed from our usual path only to come streaking back after spotting something amiss.  His fur was on end and he appeared to be twice his usual size!  Did I dare to continue through the darkness from whence he came?  He was sure having none of that idea and kept trying to lead me back to the Little Bayou House.  Using his good judgement, we made our way around the canebrake and headed back up the hillside.  Sometimes, it is wise to heed the advice of a good friend even if that friend is a cat.

Beauty Before A Storm

   Some pretty bad storms hit the area tonight but, earlier in the day, it was relatively nice.  The sun was shining and it was warm despite the stiff winds coming from across the Bay.  Several times, I went down to the pier to check the small skiff.  Son (even with his broken toe) and I had spent an hour last night trying to secure the skiff in the small inlet.  We finally managed to get it over the marsh and then tied off to the posts.  There, it could ride out the storms without bother.

  On one of the walks to the pier, I noticed a lovely egret wading in the shallows.  The bird was hunting breakfast and there was plenty to be found in the muddy waters of the Bayou.  Since there was not much else to do at the moment, I sat and watched the bird.  Snowy Egrets are stalkers.  They either stand motionless and wait for hapless fish to swim past or they slowly wade near the shoreline and catch fish when they become startled.  The dagger-like bill gives a deadly jab when the bird strikes.  This egret was snatching mullet with ease.  

  It always marvels me that these snow-white birds can stay so clean while sloshing about in the muddy shallows.  Nary a speck of mud nor debris could be seen on the showy plumes.  If that had been me out there, I would have been one muddy mess!  Not the bird. The feathers literally gleamed! I might have been a tad envious...maybe.

Funnel Clouds and Critter Friends

   Making jam and jelly took up all of my morning which was not a bad thing since rain poured outside.  No hikes were even attempted until close to noon.  It was then that Son and I went to check the small skiff moored at the end of the pier.  We were about halfway down the pier when I noticed some strange looking clouds with the next approaching storm system.  "Son!  Check the waterspouts!"  In awe, he and I sat staring at the horizon for the next few moments.    Well, he stayed for a few moments.  My stay was more like a half hour.  Seven different times, the clouds showed a "dip" as a funnel cloud tried to form but each time, it was a half-baked attempt.  Thankfully, nary a one made it full form.

  As I was kneeling on the pier planks, I heard a strange whirring sound and looked to find that a green heron had landed on the post near my elbow.  Alrighty, then.  Not wanting to scare the bird, I did not even look directly at it for a few minutes.  I slowly angled the camera in the direction of the heron and snapped a photo hoping that the bird was somewhat in focus.  Then, I went back to photographing the wannabe funnel clouds.  The bird sat.  It never moved.  

  After the storm clouds went inland to our east, I slowly stood.  The bird looked at me oddly but still did not fly.  I took a step back, photographed the bird then slowly turned and walked up the pier.  Glancing back, my new-found friend was still there...staring at me.  What an encounter!

Spring Storms and White Ibises

  Before the stormy weather set in for the long haul, I headed to the pier.  This was a few days ago and the clouds were already threatening.  The rains did catch me off-guard later in the morning but while on the pier, the dark, heavy clouds just felt ominous.  Another thing that caught me by surprise was a whole flock of White Ibises flying overhead.  Even though the sky was still quite dark, I was able to identify the birds by their black wingtips and their long, curved bills.  It is not a usual thing for me to see so many ibises in a single flock.  I counted over fifty of the birds!

  Ibises are actually considered to be a fisherman's friend.  They feed on crustaceans like crabs, fiddler crabs and crawfish (crayfish for those of you not from down here). Those critters feed a good bit on fish eggs.  By eating the crustaceans, the birds are actually making it so more of the fish eggs hatch and survive.  All fishermen should love seeing these birds in their areas!  Personally, I just love seeing them.  

  As I am writing this, thunder is grumbling out over the Gulf so our short respite is about to come to an end.  The storms shall rumble through again tonight.  Spring is definitely here.

Peering into the clouds

   For the longest time, I pondered how my elderly neighbor claimed to see people in the clouds.  I understand that the cloud formations can give the idea of something or someone but he claimed that he saw people...real people...only they were all dead.  His exact words were..."real dead people".  It was a scary thought.  He never explained whether he saw real people who had died or if they were just really dead people.  For a while, I was scared to look at the clouds in case I saw really dead people.  It is not that I don't see things.  I do.  In fact, my imagination is probably a bit wilder than most folks. In my brain, I can twist and turn things to be most anything.  It's a gift!  Not really.  Just trying to justify having a weird sense of reality.

  With all of the heavy cloud cover lately, it has been hard to visualize much of anything but rain.  A few days ago, the hike was drippy.  The slight drizzle would have kept most folks inside but I have had enough of confinement.  I braved the cold and wet to head to the unfinished pier.  A thick layer of clouds was divided from the horizon by a thin line of clear skies.  Once the sun rose behind the cloud ridge, magical things began to happen.  I started seeing things!  Lots of things!  Like I said, my imagination is strong and this time it ran amok.

  I took lots of photos and then checked them to see if I actually saw what I thought.  Hmmm, there it was right smack dab in the middle of the photo!  I will leave it up to you and your imagination.  Hint...at least, it is not a dead person!  (If you look at the tags, you will see suggestions from a few of my friends.)

Double Trouble?

   Things are a bit up in the air around the Coast.  I am sitting here listening to the drone of the huge engines of our Hurricane Hunters as they are preparing to fly over the Gulf of Mexico and surrounding area.  These folks are true heroes that go above and beyond to keep us safe.  The uncertainty of whether we are to be in the path of the two hurricanes that are threatening back to back visits has folks not knowing just how to prepare.  Do we stockpile enough supplies to carry us through two storms or do we wait and hope the storms change their directions.  Those a bit inland can get by with minimal effort and laugh at our quandary but those living near the water have a different set of rules about facing hurricanes.  We do not have the buffer zone that others have.  If a hurricane takes aim at us, we catch the brunt of it.  The winds die quickly once the eye comes ashore.  Of course, those inland do not have to be concerned about the tidal surge either.  With back to back storms, the effects are of course doubled as is the time span of the overall battering.  Even back to back tropical storms can do major damage to those of us with waterfront homes.  So, we prepare as only we know how to do!  We have learned from experience what works and what does not.  "Prepare for the worst and pray for the best" is always a good mantra.  In other words, take the ultimate of precautions then leave the rest to the Good Lord.

  Today, as I was heading to the pier, a thought struck me.  Son just this past week finished the repairs on the pier.  The damage from Tropical Storm Cristobal was extensive.  The entire structure of the pier was in shambles.  Now, we face the possibility of more damage.  When I questioned him on his thoughts, his statement was "Hurricanes are not something we can control.  Pier repairs are."  That made a lot of sense.  We won't worry about what "might" happen but will focus on the job at hand..whatever that may be.  If any readers are in the path of either storm or both storms, as the case may be, be careful.  Prepare for what may come and think safety first. 

Looking through the storms...

  Ok, so being limited in where and when I can go is about as bad as being fully quarantined, as far as I can see.  I feel tethered to the Little Bayou House, and while I love my place, I am about to go stir crazy!  I want the freedom to roam the marshes, creek bed and woods.  I want to watch the sunrise from the pier.  I want to feed my heron friend.  I want to traipse the hillside.  But...that is not happening, at least for the next two months.  Folks, stop your whining about having your actions a bit curbed by the pandemic.  What freedoms you have can very quickly come to a halt.  

  At daybreak, I was in the kitchen making coffee when I noticed that it was not raining (yet).  Thinking that the sun might just be trying to give us a glorious horizon, I peeped out the back door.  Well, it was NOT raining...but the sun struggled amongst the clouds.  Then!  It peeped through just enough to set the world aglow!  And....I was stuck to the confines of the Small Gardens.  Well, there was nothing to do but make the best of it.  

  The pathway that wanders on the north side of the house was fully overgrown by the citrus trees, nandina bushes and a few errant wisteria vines.   Since all yard work has come to a screeching stop, everything is vastly different than just three weeks ago.  Still, this leafy bower was gorgeously lit with the sunbeams that filtered through the oak trees.  This gave even the darkest green leaves a golden hue.  I could not help but wander here.  (Yes, this is allowed in my list of rules.)  A slight rain started to drizzle down upon me but it mattered not.  I could not pry myself from the path.  Going back indoors seemed to be a horrible fate at the moment when such mystique was surrounding me!  I ventured onward and soon came to the deteriorating vegetable garden.  It saddened me to see it in such condition.  Had I only the strength...

  From the southern most corner of the vegetable plot, I was able to peep over the grapevines to view a small portion of the Bayou.  The sun was doing its best to provide me with my much sought after sunrise.  The golden glow from the citrus trees had spilled over onto the calm waters.  My mind drifted off to other sunrises...other morns...seemingly eons ago.  Will I ever be able to return to those days?  Hopefully, hopefully.  In the meantime, I shall continue to find happiness wherever it may be.  

It's Coming!

  The day started off on a perfectly decent note.  The predicted rains had not started yet and a visit with Darling Daughter was the happiest way to begin the day.  Occasionally, she comes before work to share a cup of coffee with her mom!  My day is always better when she is around regardless of the weather.  Along about 10am, she headed to work and shortly after, the skies darkened.  Twenty minutes later, it poured...and poured.  Torrential rains hit the Bayou for nigh on two hours.  

  During a short break between that and the next rainstorm, Son and I rushed to the pier to tend to the small skiff.  There had been so much rain that the boat was nearly full of water.  The pump was stuck and no water had been emptied.  He repaired the pump then started bailing.  I stood and watched helplessly since two of us in the tiny boat would have been too difficult.  I kept watch on the Bay and incoming storm.  The thunder was drawing nearer and I could see a wall of rain inching closer and closer across the water.  "Hurry!  We have got to get back to the house!" was met with "I have to finish."  So, I waited in the drizzling rain with him.  Finally, he jumped from the skiff and said, "I am just going to pull the boat ashore then pull the plug."  That sounded like a grand idea so the two of us hauled the boat up the bank.  It was heavy and hard work but we finally situated it in a safe place, tied it to a tree and he pulled the plug.  "Let's go!" I said! 

  We made it to the door when another storm let loose.  The winds were terrific with this one.  Limbs were being ripped from the trees and tossed about the yard.  Suddenly, there was a loud clattering on the rooftop.  "Uh, oh!  Hail!"  Some of the largest hail that I have ever seen pelted the house.  Son spoke..."I am glad we made it inside.  That may have hurt a bit."  Yep.  It may have.  

  All said and done, we received over four inches of rain in less than three hours and there is more on the way.  We will stay snug and safe in the Little Bayou House and not worry about what is happening outside.  The boat is secure, the cat is inside and all is well.  Stay safe, folks, stay safe.

Fishing for memories!

  For the past several days, the Bayou has seen its share of stormy weather.  Nothing terrible but just enough to keep us inside.  Mark and I make short (quick) trips to the pier to check the small skiff but usually get chased in by the rain.  Not only has there been copious rainfall, the wind has been churning up the Bay.  This is all good by me but has Mark a bit antsy.  He wanted to go fishing!  It is a no-go, however, as the skiff bounces around like a toy boat in a whirlpool!  It just is not safe.

  This morning, that desire to fish got the best of him.  While on the pier, he threw the net a few times  "just to see if there is anything out there".  Well, there was not much.  He caught one small croaker and that was it!  The croaker was photographed then released.  It happily swam away unscathed.  That croaker got me thinking of days passed when my cousin and I would paddle out in (of all things, a molded plastic lifeboat that we called "The Bathtub").  We were young...probably too young to be out in the middle of the Bay by ourselves but times were different then.  We never felt that we were in danger and I am sure my aunt kept a watchful eye on us from her kitchen window. 

  Croakers were the prize we were set to catch.  They were quick to bite and easy to hook.  Just about anything could be used as bait as they were not picky.  It was our goal to catch as many as we could in the short time we were allowed to fish.  Usually, we were told to be home before noon as the fish had to be cleaned for lunch.  Neither of us had a watch so our "alarm" was Aunt Marie letting out a yell for us to come home.  Her voice would carry across the open Bay with no problems.  We, then, would paddle back home with our catch.  The fish were cleaned and Aunt Marie would fry them.  It was then our job to get back in that little boat and paddle down the shoreline to my uncle's place.  He was building a house there and had little time to cook lunch.  We toted it to him.  Croakers were on the menu quite often.

  It is funny how seeing the pretty, little fish with its golden scales started the flood of memories.  Those were good times...happy, carefree times.  Margie and I had no worries, no fears.  Unlike kids today, we spent our summers outside not cooped up inside glued to some electronic device.  We played, roamed the woods, fished in the Bay and generally were just being kids.  I miss those days.

Tossing and Turning!

  The weather was a bit stormy all day here on the Bayou.  This suited me fine as it kept me inside.  Normally, I do not like being confined to the Little Bayou House but there were baskets of plums that needed to be made into jam.  Once again, Son and I chopped and jammed!  Another three days of this and we should be finished.  The two plum trees were loaded this year and, even though we had to pick the fruit early to prevent the coons from ruining them, we will have more than enough jam to restock the pantry shelves.  

  There was one time when Mark and I slipped out to check the small skiff moored at the end of the pier.  Being stuck inside, I had no idea the severity of the storm that was pounding the Bayou.  My goodness!  This was not unlike a tropical storm!  Waves smashed against the pier and sent water flying over the top.  Our pier, being a bit higher than the others nearby, was still usable.  The others were completely under with the high tide.  The small skiff bounced fiercely with the waves but the moorings were holding fast.  Our normally calm bay was being churned by the winds.

  Mark and I watched the waves for a bit then headed back up the hillside.  We both pondered if this was some sort of harbinger of things to come.  Would this be the year of severe hurricanes?  Would there be many tropical systems hitting the Coast?  Would the Bayou see many storms raking over the marshes?  No one knows but we shall prepare just in case any of the scenarios come true.  In the meantime, those plums are calling me!  Back to work.