Something Else Southern?

   It is a southern thing.  You hear that often with everything from blessing folk's hearts to eating grits and fried mullet.  It is a southern thing.  While some people think we are a bit backward, we really do not care.  We do our own thing, love one another and live life to the fullest.  We are just happy to be alive and if that is confusing to you...well, kiss my grits.  Who cares?  

  One thing that I was told was pretty much a southern thing by a cousin who lives way up north, is the fact that if visitors ever comment on our garden, they have set themselves up to receive whatever caught their eye.  We give.  We almost over-give.  Armloads of vegetables or fruit are pushed on anyone who comes.  The same goes with our flowers.  Compliment a flower garden and you are bound to be the recipient of cuttings, small plants or seeds. We don't care who you are or where you came from, when you leave, you will be loaded down with something!  No one can leave empty-handed. It is a southern thing...we share...a lot.

  Pass-along plants are a thing much like hand-me-down clothes.  One of the favorites down here is the Confederate Rose.  This is not a rose at all but a member of the hibiscus family or mallow family.  It is one of those plants that is easily rooted by a snippet of stem.  Stick it in some water and a few weeks later, you have a sapling.  Then, it is not long before you have a nice sized shrub that will be covered with lovely saucer-sized blooms during the fall.  Just about everyone down here in the Deep South will tell you their story about receiving a cutting from someone's garden.  The tales are about as interesting as the shrub, itself.  We take pride in giving credit where credit is due.  It is a southern thing.

Yet Another Weather Forecaster!

   There are all sorts of pieces of folklore concerning the weather.  One says that the color of the sky can predict the day's weather.  One says that the thickness of the red band on a woolly bear caterpillar tells you how cold a winter is.  Another claims that the migration of fiddler crabs can foretell a hurricane's landfall and strength.  Many others deal with drought, winter's cold, depth of snow, arrival of spring and even if rain will fall within an hour.  Just about any oddity of nature has its own tale and ties to weather.  

  This afternoon, I made a quick hike around the property.  At the bend of the path near the wild persimmon trees (and therein is another winter forecast), I noticed that the Yaupon Trees were loaded with berries.  These are the wild type that grow where they may on our hillside.  While the berries are toxic, I use the leaves in tisanes so it pays for me to leave them be.  It was those berries that took me aback, however.  In the past, the berries have not ripened until late October or even into November but here were some bright red berries. Why so early this year?  I pondered the matter and decided that there had to be some tale attached to the occurrence.

  Sure enough, when I checked "folklore about yaupon", several tales came up.  Some were tied to the toxicity of the berries and did not interest me but one did pertain to the weather.  "If Yaupon berries ripen early, it is a sign that winter will soon follow and be abnormally harsh."  Well, now!  "Abnormally harsh"...does not sound right for this far south but perhaps we are due for a winter.  Honestly, we have not had one in several years.  

  I mulled over the fact about the berries then thought of the rats that I have been battling in the greenhouse.  Why have they moved indoors and why the extreme hoarding of seeds and bedding?  The woodpeckers and squirrels have been busy, too. Mama Squirrel has added extra padding to her nest and has been pulling hickory nuts and acorns to add beneath the lining. She is going to be set for winter.  The woodpeckers have been stashing acorns in crevices of tree bark and between the slats of the garden fence. They, too, are ready to ride out some lean times.  Maybe Son and I should start gathering firewood for the old wood-burning stoves.  We have plenty of foodstuffs to tide us over if the roads get icy but heating during excessive cold depends on our woodpile.  Yep, it may be time to start laying in a stock of firewood. If we believe the berries and the attached folklore and, if, we believe the critters and their habits, perhaps we should be doing the same..  Hmmm...think I better go grab a few of the remaining persimmon seeds and see what the seeds have to say.   Those things have not been wrong yet!

The All Important Lantern!

  Back years ago, I wrote about Great-grandfather's lantern but today as I was dusting the buffet, the tale of the importance of the lantern came rushing back into my brain.  While this is just a run-of-the-mill lantern as far as lanterns go, it is a pretty significant piece of my history.   You see, I may not be here if this lantern had not belonged to Great-grandfather.  Most folks have some tale of items that "changed my life" but few have things that were a determining factor in their pure existence.  I do.  It is the lantern.  A pretty nondescript lantern but a lantern all the same. Now, I cannot attest to the whole truth involved in these tales as over the years there have been some pretty good storytellers in the family who may have...umm...exaggerated just a wee bit now and again but since I have been told the same story by several different family members over the years, I have to believe there may be some bit of truth in there somewhere.

  The tale that I previously told took place far back in time during the Great Depression.  It was then that my great-grandparents lived in a massive old manor in Biloxi.  As was the custom of folks at the time, they owned a cow and a few chickens even though they lived in town.  No one thought this was strange and both the cow and chickens were highly important in their lives.  Survival at the time was not guaranteed and having critters that provided food was a wise choice.  Great-grandfather used to head out before dawn to feed and milk the cow.  He toted the lantern to provide light for his chores.  On the fateful morning of our tale, Great-grandfather found more than the cow in the barn.  During the night, an intruder had slipped into the barn to escape the cold.  This was not unusual at the time since many folks had lost their homes and many men were out searching for work.  When Great-grandfather questioned the man about his presence, the man lunged at him with a knife!  Quick thinking saved the day as the lantern became a weapon.  When Great-grandfather swung the lantern, it caught the man up side the head and stunned him enough for him to be bound hand and foot.  Great-grandfather sent one of his young sons to the constable's office and it was discovered that the man had escaped from prison where he was being held on a murder charge.  Had that lantern not been in hand, Great-grandfather may not have survive the attack!  But this was not the lifesaving matter that is tied to me...in a roundabout way.

  Strange as it may seem, this was not the first time that the lantern had saved Great-grandfather's life. Long before he had children, he and Great-grandmother bought an old farm far out in the country from their city house.  The "Farm", though only minutes away from the house with modern transportation, was a good couple of hours away when riding an old horse.  A tale has been passed down through the generations that an approaching hurricane caught Great-grandfather on the trail back to the city.  In days past, there were no warnings of such things and, if one did not read the signs correctly, a storm might catch one unawares.  Just as Great-grandfather was to catch the ferry to haul him (and his horse) across the Bay, the storm struck with a vengeance.  Although it was terrible weather, the ferryman agreed to make the crossing.  Once out on the water, things took a turn for the worse.  The ferry was being tossed about like a toy and the men on the far shore could not see well enough to help.  Great-grandfather lit the lantern and started sending signals.  Without that lantern, the ferryman and Great-grandfather could have been lost in that storm.  As it was, things turned out well and the lantern had saved the day.  Great-grandfather made it home to his lovely bride and they rode out the hurricane together.  This was the tale of the lantern that is tied to my being.  If Great-grandfather had not survived the ferry crossing during the hurricane, there would have been no children born to the happy couple.  Hattie was born and raised in the old house and on the Farm.  Hattie was my mother's mother and, hence, how I am tied to a old lantern.  Had Great-grandfather not survived, Hattie would have never been born...nor my mom....nor me.  Lanterns are important!

  This lantern has...no, IS...history.  So many pieces such as this are tossed as junk when, in actuality, they are important family pieces.  With the coming of electric lights, the old lantern was passed along to my parents.  City folks received electricity far sooner than farm folks.  Since Pop and Mom needed lanterns to take care of their livestock in the wee hours of the morn, the lantern, once again, came into use.  Later, once electricity was commonplace, the lantern was used during storms and other power outages.  Now, the thing sits proudly in my living room.  Yep, it is dented (possibly from contact with an evil person's head), rusted (perhaps from saltwater blown during a hurricane!) and otherwise useless (except as a conversation piece and a reminder that all things have their purpose.)  Life is good...treat it wisely and with respect.  Be thankful for what you have, even rusty, dented old lanterns. You never know when some weird item might just save your life!

  

Pretty Eyes!

  A dragonfly kept flitting about the wisteria arbor (or lack thereof since I cut it all down!) as I was picking up the remaining vines.  It was a rather nice large dragonfly of sort of a purplish color.  I do not recall seeing one exactly like this one before.  After noticing that the insect did not seem to be particularly frightened of me, I decided to see if it would actually let me hold it.  While it was on the edge of the wheelbarrow, I slowly rested my hand near the face of the critter.  Sure enough, after a moment, the dragonfly crawled onto my hand.  Well, now!  I had a new friend!  With the bug in hand, I was able to study it a bit closer.  What amazed me was the brilliance of its eyes!  They were the most gorgeous teal color and absolutely gleaming!  All of a sudden, the dragonfly tilted its head to one side and then took off in flight.  My new friend did not go far.  It lighted on a board just a few feet away and enjoyed the shade for a bit.  I was able to photograph the insect at my leisure as it had not a care in the world least of all my presence.  I felt a bit honored that it trusted me!

  Speaking of those amazing eyes, did you know that whereas humans only have one lens in their eyes, dragonflies have some thirty thousand? This allows the critter to see in all directions at one time making it much easier to catch prey and avoid becoming prey itself.  While this gives the dragonfly a much broader view, the poor critter does not see detail too well.  I suppose in the critter world there is no need for detail.  As long as the food supply is handy, nothing else is too important.

 A tiny bit of "Back in the Day" trivia...I remember hearing a tale of how some folks would reprimand their children.  If a child lied, the parents would point to a dragonfly and exclaim that the critter would come in the night and darn the child's lips together so they could not tell any more lies.  Geez!  Way to scare a poor kid for life!  Yep, lying is terrible but what type example was the parent setting by repeating a threat like this? The threat, itself, was a lie so perhaps the parent should have been wary.  A dragonfly might just visit them at night as well!  The poor, innocent insect became known as the "Devil's Darner".

 

My Very Own Ring!

  There is a Coastal legend called "The Ring in the Oak".  According to all that has been told, a Indian maiden from the Biloxi Tribe fell in love with a warrior from the neighboring Pascagoula Tribe.  Since these were rivals, the Chief of the Biloxi Tribe refused to allow a marriage to take place.  The young maiden begged so much that the Chief finally relented....a little bit.  "When a ring grows in yon oak tree, you may marry."  The story goes on to say that a terrible hurricane hit the area and when the winds subsided, lo and behold, a ring appeared in the tree. The Chief stood true to his word and allowed the marriage to take place.  As odd as it may seem, to this day there is a ring in that very same oak tree.  The tree has withstood all hurricanes even though it stands right near the beach. Also, as odd as it may seem, the legend has a few problems as the Biloxi Tribe and Pascagoula Tribe were not only allies but friends.  Still, it makes for a good story and the tale has withstood the test of time just like the old oak tree.  Tree experts have explained away the legend by declaring that the limb was damaged (split) by the storm and healed over to form a ring.  Probably....but you will never be able to convince any die-hard believers that their tree was not a miracle performed in the defense of true love.

  Late this afternoon, I was making my way back from the pier when I noticed our own "ring in the oak".  My ring is not a true ring....yet.  If the experts are correct, given a few hundred years, this ring will need a legend as well.  Just like the "Ring in the Oak" tree, the oak tree here was bent and twisted during a hurricane.  I first noticed the odd angle right after Hurricane Katrina.  Let nature take its course and in time, the tree limbs will grow together and form an unusual ring.  Mother Nature has a way of taking care of things.

  I guess now that I mention it, I really need to get started creating a fantastic legend to attach to my tree!  You know, it takes a while for legends to catch on with folks.  Perhaps it will not be some sappy love story but a tale of endurance or perhaps something mystical or magical like the Bayou itself.  That would be a fitting tale to give my tree!

I Know! I Know!

  Mark and Son have been frantically replacing the siding on the Little Bayou House for the past few weeks.  By frantically, I mean they work like crazy on the sunny days which are far and few between.  Rain seems to be the norm now and this makes for few work days.  While up on the scaffolding pulling down old boards, Son salvaged a strange thing for his mom.  He knows how I am interested in so many of Mother Nature's ways that when he spies something odd, he saves it for me.  I was out front cutting grass so it took a good while before I found his "treasure". When I took a water break, he informed me that there was something on the kitchen table that I might want to see.  I had no idea that it would be a Mud Dauber's nest.  Imagine finding a lump of dried mud sitting on your kitchen table!  Now imagine my reaction. If you thought that I was upset...think again.  I WAS indeed interested in this lump.  I checked the nest to be certain that the wasps had already vacated the "building" before I started messing with it.  Sure enough, I found the telltale holes dug into the sides of the nest which let me know that no one was home. I tapped on the nest.  The mud was rock-solid!  It made me think of a tale that was told as a kid.

  It seems that a small maiden was told to fetch some water from a nearby creek.  Not knowing any better, the little girl grabbed her gardening basket and headed down to the creek.  She knew that her mother needed the water to cook supper so it was an important task. She dipped her basket into the creek only to discover that the water ran right through the bottom.  Dismayed she sat down and wept.  While she was crying, a Mud Dauber kept flying around her head.  She tried to shoo it away but it kept aggravating her.  Finally in frustration, she snatched the Mud Dauber's nest and tossed it into the water.  She watched as it sank to the bottom.  It did not go to pieces as she thought it would.  She fished out the nest and let it dry.  It became hard again. Then she thought "I wonder what would happen if I burn the nest."  She built a fire and tried to burn the nest but instead of becoming ashes, the nest got harder.  The little maiden grabbed a handful of mud from the creek, made a bowl and after it dried, she burned it.  She had a lovely bowl to carry water home to her mother.  The little Mud Dauber was not aggravating her but rather teaching her to make pottery!

  That nice little tale made me smile.  A lowly wasp was seen as heroic! But then I thought of another tale that was used as admonishment.  As a child, whenever I would get a little cocky when being shown something, I was reminded not to use the terms, "I know, I know!".  The next tale corrected my attitude and made me realize that I had a lot to learn.

  A Mud Dauber and a Honeybee were good friends although the Mud Dauber was always a wee bit jealous of the Honeybee.  "How do you make honey?" it asked the Honeybee.  "Well, you have to make a hive like this! And then you go to the flowers to collect pollen to make the honey." said the Honeybee.  With that, the Honeybee started showing the Mud Dauber the fine art of making bee's wax.  The Mud Dauber was impatient and did not want to go through the entire process.  "I know, I know" it buzzed.   The Mud Dauber started gathering mud to make its "hive".  "NO!!!" said the Honeybee.  "You have to make wax!"  "I know, I know!" said the Mud Dauber as it continued to gather mud.   Consequently, the Mud Dauber did not make a hive nor could it make honey.  All it could do was make a mud nest and buzz "I know, I know". Moral here...it is better to listen to instruction and is better to be patient.  A job well done can only be completed by learning the process. Oh, and if you listen carefully to a Mud Dauber, it is still saying "I know, I know" as it slings mud.

  It is funny how a simple wad of mud can trigger so many memories. These two tales had been long forgotten until Son took the time to save a nest so I could investigate it.  Yep, I am easily amused by all things of nature.  I am also one that has a wealth of interesting little tales told to me by my parents and grandparents.  Someday, I am sure that those tales and the lessons therein will be put to good use.

Its there!

  Sometimes the most ordinary of things can strike a chord with me and a fantastical story starts to whirl around in my brain.  I wonder about this and think perhaps I should have been an author!  Or not.  Since it takes a goodly amount of skill to ever get anything published, I probably would have still been the "starving artist".  My writing skills had better be left to this feeble attempt and not to some worthy novel. Still, those things that create wondrous illusions in my head would make for fun tales.

  What with all the interest in zombies, creatures from beyond, aliens and such, I occasionally come across something on the Bayou that would fit right in with these stories!  On my walks, I see a lot of weird things.  Take, for instance, the strange "fingers" that I found trying to dig from beneath the soil.  It was just before dark when I spied the creepy hand digging its way from some grave long forgotten.  The fingers were of the most unusual color being red and obviously from something other than human since there were only three.  Try as it might this hand (and whatever was attached) never made it completely to the surface.  In reality, this "hand" was none other than a stinkhorn mushroom that had pushed its way up in the lawn.  There it was making the yard smell a lot like a rotting corpse!  Ugh!  My imagination went wild!

  Then back behind the peach orchard near the creek bed, I found some more aliens that had landed from worlds unknown.  These were exiting their pod-shaped ship when I found them.  Their long, slender forms were ghostly white and so unlike anything that I have ever seen before. I must have startled them which caused them to sit almost motionless as soon as my presence was recognized.  These aliens may have taken over our world had I not discovered their plot and put an end to it! Actually the alien ship was a magnolia pod and the recent rains had sprouted the seeds within it.  The long slender sprouts had not been able to fully form and were on the verge of decay.  The whole scene made for quite the ghostly tale!

  I guess things are all in how you see them or all in how your own brain works.  Mine sees things in a bizarre way.  Tales of mystery are always whirring away in the cogs of my mind!  Too bad about that skill thing needed to be an author!

The Tale Of Pond Writings!

  It is that time of year again when the little Frog Pond needs its annual cleaning.  About a billion water hyacinths will be dragged out of the water and hauled to the compost pile.  Only three will remain in the pond to add a bit of beauty during the summer months.  It always amazes me just how quickly those things multiply!  It is no wonder that waterways can become clogged with the invasive plants if ever any manage to "escape" the confines of controlled ponds.  I am careful to dispose of the excess plants so none will infiltrate my Bayou!  The same goes for the waterlilies.  Even though the lilies are not quite as troublesome as the hyacinths, they, too can create massive problems when left unchecked.  Again, with these, I am careful.

  While out checking the pending chore the other day, something struck me as a bit curious.  On some of the waterlily pads, a strange "writing" had appeared.  There were some rather visible "hieroglyphs" scrawled around the outer edge of the round leaves.  This made the pad almost resemble a sundial! Well, now!  That is most intriguing and well worth a ponder.  Did some critter take a liking to the lily pad and munch its way around the edge or is this some sort of mysterious augury?  

  Not sure of the source of my hieroglyphs, I pondered!  I could "feel" a fanciful tale evolving in my brain of how to account for the arcane writing!  This could become another of the Bayou's Wondrous Tales! Ponder, ponder......the wheels are turning!

Murky Bayou?

  It recently occurred to me that some folks have an erroneous idea of my life here on the Bayou. Perhaps my tales have unintentionally led people a bit astray.  Obviously, there are those who think bayou life is filled with the weird and wonderful things of the theater.  While things can be strange at times, life here is not mysterious.  Contrary to popular belief, there is not always some low fog hovering amongst the cane (reference below!) and Big Foot has yet to make his appearance.  (Although, occasionally we do have some pretty strange critters bounding about the marsh!)  My life here cannot be compared to some creepy carnival sideshow with voodoo and zombies.  It amuses me that folks ask me constantly if they can "visit the Bayou" as if it is majorly exciting.  They have the mistaken belief that I can conjure up "spirits" like the fictional character "Tia Dalma" from the movie "Pirates of the Caribbean".  Nope.  I cannot do that.  No way, no how.  (Although, I must admit that my son does bear a striking resemblance to the character "Jack Sparrow"!)  That said, at times things do lend themselves to being just creepy enough to send shivers up the spine of those of the not-so-brave sort.  Whether it be the screeching call of a loon or the bellow of a bull alligator, there are things that can be a bit disconcerting. The "uninitiated" might step a tad closer to the door of the Little Bayou House.

  However!  (Isn't there always something that goes against the rules?)  However, things do occur that are a bit fun to "play with" and to twist, turn and otherwise distort into a mystery!  Take, for instance, yesterday morning!  I was out at daybreak.  It was making up to be a most beautiful day and I wanted to get a head start on my yard work.  I stoked the leaf burner.  The hot ashes from the day before sprang to life and smoke started billowing out of the burner.  In the distance, I could hear the loud splashes of the pelicans as they hunted breakfast.  Across the Bayou, a couple of coons were quite "busy" and their squeals echoed through the early morning stillness.  To anyone not knowing these sounds, the Bayou would seem to be a wild and eerie place.  Just as I was thinking that very thought, I noticed how strangely the smoke was behaving.  The humidity was causing the smoke to lay low to the ground.  It was not rising high in the sky but rather trailed through the undergrowth and around the hillside like some live entity.  Aha!  If only!  If only I had some gullible folks around here at that very moment! The smoke laid low like any good swamp mist should! My shrieking coons could be the "Swamp Critter" splashing (remember the pelicans?) about the marsh.  With just a bit of "good story-telling", my visitors would be easing back up near the doorway!

  

  It is funny how this is.  Several years ago, we were having a large fish fry with lots of family members and a few friends.  A good many of the young folk gathered on the pier to try their hand at fishing.  Just about dark, my niece asked me to relate the tale of the "Bayou Critter".  This was a bit of a fantasy tale that my oldest son and I created years and years ago.  The tale grew with passing time and was a point of interest around here.  I told the tale in my own eerie way dragging on and on until it was well after dark.  This caused the young folk (late teens) to become a bit leery of making the hike back to the house with no light.  I volunteered to fetch several flashlights from the house.  When I did, I "let slip" to my oldest son, Mark, and my nephew, Daniel, about the telling of the tale and how scared the teens were.  That did it!  They both slipped out the back door and down to the marsh edge.  I hiked back to gather the young folk homewards.  Just as the group stepped off of the pier, Mark and Daniel went into action!  Mark let loose a bloodcurdling yell while Daniel threw several large logs into the marsh! My sweet daughter-in-law, Joanna, was on the back porch and excitedly yelled to me.  "Mom! WHAT WAS THAT?" She had played along well with Mark and Daniel's ruse!  I have never seen nor heard so much ruckus come from a group of teenagers in my entire life! They bolted toward the Little Bayou House. Once they were inside, the hair-raising jitters did not stop!  I do believe storytelling with a little background activity can convince anyone that there are sinister creatures lurking about in the Bayou!

  To me, the Bayou is a peaceful place.  It is a bit of paradise where one can escape the things that are really scary!  As for the smoke?  I found it had a certain loveliness about it as it snaked its way beneath the canebrake.  Life is only what you make it and I choose to make mine as serene as possible.