Bat Attack On The Mushrooms!

   The trouble with inheriting cats from other places, is they are curious as to the doings of the Bayou and surrounding areas.  The "throwaway" cat that came to live at the Little Bayou House is no different.  Add to the fact that "Bat" is still actually a kitten in a rather large. adult-sized body and that curiosity can often get out of hand.  He is never still.  Bat climbs, explores, falls into and literally obliterates almost everything he contacts.  Poor buddy has a long way to go before becoming a true Bayou Cat.

  Today, I cut firewood.  This is getting to be a tiresome chore for an old lady but if I expect to keep the wood-burning stoves chugging along relentlessly, it is a chore that needs to be done. So, I do it.  After cutting and hauling several loads to the woodpile, I came across a dozen or so large oak chunks that needed to be split.  THAT is even harder for me to do now.  Swinging an axe is something best left to younger folks.  Still, since it was there, it could not hurt to give it a try.  I did fairly well and got enough split for at least a few burnings.  

  It was on one of the logs that I noticed some very large mushrooms.  Even though they were a greyish brown, the things were rather lovely...in their own right.  They appeared to be so soft and velvety!  Thinking I should photograph the 'shrooms, I traded the axe for the camera.  At the very moment I tried to photograph the mushrooms, Bat decided to attack!  The mushrooms were soon a matted, flat mess!  That crazy cat is not the best friend of any camera toting person!  He is a rascal!  Grow up, Bat!!

Trying their best

  Things have been busy, that is for sure.  So busy, in fact, that I have neglected several things that needed attention.  One of those things has decided to take matters in its own hands or stalks or roots or whatever.  Back when we were clearing hurricane debris, the fallen trees were cut for firewood.  Thinking that we may have a winter this past year, I carefully stacked the wood on the log rack.  Since there was no other place to set up the rack, I opted for the garden along the fence.  The idea was to use up the firewood so the four-o'clock tubers beneath it would be cleared in time for their appearance come spring.  No winter = no fires.  The wood sat and, being old, I forgot about the plants snoozing underground.  

  Spring came and I became busy with gardens, clearing and grinding more debris mulch and home-canning.  By the time I realized that my four-o'clocks were sending up shoots, it was too late to do much but hope for the best.  The plants had already entwined themselves through the wood rack.  Moving the rack was not an option at this point.  The plants were now sandwiched between the stacked firewood, the garden fence and the two foot tall broccoli plants.  They would just have to do the best they could. 

  Plants are resilient, for sure.  Surprisingly, the four-o'clocks are blooming beautifully each night.  Their sweet scent can be enjoyed even though they had to squeeze themselves through an obstacle course of stuff.  I have decided to let them be.  Hopefully, the woodpile will be depleted this next winter (if we get one) and I can make amends to the plants.  Perhaps I should apologize to them for my oversight.

Intimidation Time

   Earlier before the storms started, I watched two male lizards battling for dominance of the woodpile.  At the beginning, it was noticeable that both lizards were putting on quite the show.  What started as two anoles stalking each other became a fiasco in its own right.  The lizards were fun to watch as they scooted along the fence rail then up to a board that was intended to be used as part of the new gate.  One would appear to be winning the standoff, then the action would shift and the other would take control.

  It was interesting that both lizards started the battle as brown in color but both changed colors several times during their confrontation.  Also, both were changing size and shape.  Lizards can make themselves almost twice their normal size as a form of intimidation.  Then, if speed is needed, they can lose the puffiness in a few seconds.  

  The confrontation was interesting to watch but, to be honest, I could never tell which lizard actually won the rights to the woodpile.  They both seem to have accepted that the other was going to share the hunting space.  This makes me happy as it is nice to have lizards, of any kind, in the garden.  I only wish they would get busy munching the pests and stop lollygagging about trying to intimidate each other.

Seeing Possibilities

   The back is sore!  After clearing the remaining small gardens and upper hill of debris, I pushed a lawnmower for a couple of hours.  This was to mulch the small stuff that remained after removing anything that was too large for the mower.  By late morning, I was ready to move onto a new chore,  There was a huge pile of firewood that needed to be stacked.  Mark had used the chainsaw to cut up four of the felled trees on the lower part of the hill.  The logs had to be hauled up the hill and then stacked neatly for the winter.  This will be used in the two wood-burning stoves that heat the Little Bayou House. 

  While stacking the wood, the mind is free to ramble as it may.  It was during those ponderings that I realized, at least, Hurricane Zeta gave us warmth for the winter.  It is often hard to find any good point about storms but, if you search long and hard enough, you can find that all is not bad.  It is all a point of perspective.  If you look at the destruction and see bad, it will be bad.  If you look at it and see possibilities, they will arise.  I prefer the latter.  The gardens are being redesigned, the greenhouse roof is being improved and the pier is being rebuilt sturdier.  In fact, the entire place is getting a "makeover"!  Storms give us that opportunity.  Otherwise, we get lackadaisical and tend to shrug off some chores "to another day" or we wait for the elusive "round to it".  

  

As Pale As A Ghost!

  It was workday here on the Bayou.  Yard work has been put off long enough and if the weather insists on it being springtime, then lets just go with the flow and agree.  Its springtime...or at least it is until the next cold spell.  So let the gardening and cleanup begin!  The first thing to go was the old wisteria arbor.  It had seen better days and since repairing it was far harder than replacing it, the thing smashed to the ground. Goodbye arbor!  You have served well but it is time to bid you farewell. Then came the woodpile.  Since few fires have been needed in the old wood stove, the pile had become an unsightly mess!  The logs too rotten met the same fate as the old arbor and were heaved to the burn pile.  Any solid pieces were restacked on the steel rack and were covered.  If not needed to supply warmth indoors, the fire pit outside will soon be in use.  There is nothing better than sitting outside around the fire pit on chilly evenings as you listen to the critters foraging around the Bayou. That makes for an interesting evening!

 It was on the woodpile that a critter was encountered that temporarily drew the attention away from chores.  A single white roach (yep, I watched the critter for a bit before..umm..ridding the woodpile of the intruder) clung to one of the split logs.  The roach made no effort to scurry away to a hiding place so I had a front row seat to observe the critter.  A white roach...imagine that!  Living on the Bayou, any number of critters can be found creepy-crawling about the place but it is rare that a white roach is seen.  Nope, it is not considered a "rare" species nor is it even remotely unusual.  Sighting one is just difficult.  Contrary to what is the common thought of the critter, it is not an albino.  The roach is just like any other roach except that this one was undergoing a specific change in its life.  Roaches are like all other critters that have hard exoskeletons.  They have to shed their old outer shells when they get too large for them.  There is just no other way to "change clothes". The white roach that was seen today was doing just that.  It was shedding...or, to be more precise, had just shed.  Its new outer layer had not hardened yet.  Once the process is fully complete, the roach would acquire its normal coloring once again. 

  The shedding of its outer "shell" accounts for the critter's inability to scamper about.  When I uncovered the critter, it could do no more than cling to the log.  Had it stayed exposed long, either a predator (such as a bird or lizard) would have snatched the tasty (icky!) tidbit for a snack or it would have been dehydrated by the bright sunshine.  At this point, the critter is highly vulnerable...to even things like my shoe!  So long, ghost roach!  So long, arbor!  So long, rotten firewood!  The garden area looks so much better already!

Put on a Sweater!

  It is cold.  Not that I am complaining because next to a good storm, I like the cold weather.  Still, I am a girl from the Deep South and I feel the cold.  I shiver and shake with the best of them.  My nose turns red, my toes freeze and I pile on layers of clothing.  I have no problem with this at all.  For that matter, even some folks from up in the Far North have told me that they find it cold on the Bayou.  It seems that the humidity plays a part in this and since we are sitting at about an eighty percentile relative humidity, perhaps it does feel colder than the just about freezing temps that were our high for the day.  Tonight, the lows will take a plunge to well below that mark sinking almost to the teens.  Yep, the Bayou is cold.  Wet and cold is the rule for the weekend.

  While I like the cold, I also like a good fire going in the old woodburning stoves.  Both have been chugging along steadily throughout the day and will do the same overnight.  This is our source of heat...our only heat save a couple of electric spaceheaters.  That said, you can imagine what our day saw us doing.  Mark cut several trees that were either riddled with woodborers or were storm damaged.  Once cut, the wood was hauled to the house, a good bit was split and then stacked.  My woodbins are filled for the evening's burning.  Hopefully, the Little Bayou House will stay relatively warm...at least, warm by our standards. Others complain incessantly about being cold when here.  "Put on a sweater!" I direct them.  "I have on a sweater!" is often the reply.  "Put on a coat!" is my next directive.  Or...if you are still complaining, go home. Sorry, there is not a lot I can do about the lack of heat which causes some folks' complaints.  I have no problem with the house temperature sitting at sixty degrees.  I fully appreciate having a home, a woodburning stove and living in the Deep South where cold spells are a novelty and not the norm.  Don't like it?  Put on a sweater!  Or go home.  I am good with it either way.