Happy Vines

  Sometimes, it seems as if we do things in vain.  Our hard work accomplished nothing...nothing at all.  Earlier this spring (and summer), I was on a mission to get the place looking better.  My year off due to health issues really dealt a blow to the Little Bayou House and the yard.  It was high time to get that ship back in shape! So, I was working like a whirlwind...until that big blow came and knocked me off my feet again.  Health is one of those funny things that can pop one way or another at a second's notice.  My work came to a grinding halt until the malady worked its way to oblivion.  After an entire month of nothingness, I am finally beginning to return to my old self.  Work is, once again, getting accomplished.

  Back in June, I had trimmed back a good bit of the smilax vines that take over the hillside if given their way.  Once you let them get away with that inch, they take the proverbial mile overnight.  So, I trimmed.  With things neatly done, I moved on with the satisfaction that the chore would be much easier from that point onward.  Then, that break came into play and the vines bounced back with a vengeance!  Smilax usually blooms early spring and then produces the berries that ripen late fall.  Thinking I did a smart thing by trimming off the blooms, I was hopeful that not nearly as many berries (seeds) would be produced.  Duh...I think trimming the vines just made them bloom more!  Today's walk made me realize that if I wanted the prolific growing vines to remain contained, I was going to have to trim them constantly.  It did not happen.  Vines everywhere.  Vines in bloom again.  Vines happy.  Me...not so much.

Inside Wishing to be Outside

  The past four weeks have seen me "trapped" inside the Little Bayou House.  It is not that I could not leave but rather that I knew that I had better not venture out too far.  Why?  Because, if I did, I would not want to come back to the task at hand.  The upstairs rooms were in dire need of repainting and reorganizing...neither of which were something I wished to attend.  I would have much rather been outside working than confined to the house.  

  In that month, things outside have changed.  Of course, it has gotten a LOT hotter, there are a LOT more mosquitoes and there are a LOT more weeds!  The garden plots need help!  I took a few moments this morning to check for more ripe tomatoes and realized that the vegetable garden was greatly resembling a flower garden.  Four-o-clocks had sprouted up everywhere and were nigh on three feet high!  Hot pink blooms were still open this early and were flooding the place with a delightful scent.  Petunias had also made their appearance and were mingling with the tomatoes.  Oh, goodness!

  I still have a few more days of "finishing" touches to add to the room upstairs then I shall be out and about again.   My brain is counting the hours as I cannot take much more of this inside work.  Give me the "great outdoors".   I am tired...tired of being inside looking out.  

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".  

  

MUD!

   If there is one thing frustrating about hurricane debris cleanup, it is the fact that it is dirty work.  Literally, it is dirty, nasty work.  I am not speaking of repairs here, just cleanup.  Those who do not live on the water cannot understand the extent of what needs to be done.  Ninety percent of inland cleanup is downed trees.  Here, we have everything that used to be in the Bay in our yard.  Marsh, garbage from other folks, mud, dead critters, nets and, oh, did I mention, MUD??  Now that it is a month into cleanup, things are not much better.  In fact, I would venture to say, my part is worse.  I am the "mulcher" of the debris after everything is pulled from the piles.  Great when wet, horrible when dry. We are in the midst of a drought so the mulch grinds to dust.  That fine dust makes breathing horrendously hard!  Son, on the other hand, still has mud...stinky, oozy mud.  He is dismantling the pier and salvaging what is halfway decent.  He is sloshing around in mud up to his knees to do this.  Not a fun job.

  This afternoon, I took off a few hours to work in the vegetable garden.  Those chores still have to be done regardless of how tired we may be from the other.  When I finished and came to the doorway, I saw what seemed to sum up the day's work.  Son's mud-covered shoes were sitting on the steps. He had tried washing the shoes with the water hose but the mud refused to budge.  The shoes looked weary.  We are weary.  There is no end in sight.  Tomorrow will be much the same as will every day for the next couple of months until the mountains of debris are gone, the pier is rebuilt and the yard is somewhat back to normal.  Life goes on even for those exhausted by what stands before them.  

I'm Tired

   I'm tired.  I am just tired.  Ever since July and my crazy body deciding to go cattywampus on me, things have just not been right.  I am tired.  Just plain, old tired.  Even though every doctor told me that I could continue doing what I had prior, it just is not working out that way.  Perhaps they were not aware of just how much I do around here.  Most folks do not...and I guess I never really thought about it.  I just did.  Now, that is not happenin'.  I sort of overdid today by carrying 30 wet (treated) 2X6 planks from the top of the hill all the way to the end of the pier.  Yeah, it was stupid.  Yeah, it needed to be done.  Yeah, I did it.  Now, I am paying the price.  

  While on the pier earlier, I had to opportunity to just sit for a few moments and reflect on the past year.  It has been filled with far too many stressful situations.  This is not only on a worldwide level but a personal level as well.  I realized that when I am on that pier...before the sun rises...by myself, things seem to be a lot nicer.  Then, the world is peaceful.   I am peaceful. 

  I watched as Mark eased his way out from the pier in the little skiff.  Being still rather dark, he was steering the boat by memory of how the shoreline winds along from the Bayou.  It reminded me of Pop and his fishing days so many years ago.  The thought brought a smile.  Hopefully, tomorrow, being on the pier will ease the turmoil racking this old body tonight.  I sure need it.  I am just tired...too tired...bone tired.

Just Thinking!

   The recent bouts of small storms that have hit the Bayou have left a good deal of work behind.  After each, we have to repair any damage to the place or pier and cleanup a debris line from the storm surge.  This is nothing compared to what the good folks in Louisiana are dealing with but is still a chore to tend.  While Son is making repairs to the storm ravaged pier, I am on cleanup detail.  I get to deal with that debris line and any downed limbs.  

  This morning, I pondered the "marsh mats" that are left behind by the storms.  Dead marsh grass is toss and turned by the waves until it becomes almost woven.   A strong storm makes thick mats.  The recent gale to hit the Bayou picked up the leftover mats from the previous blows and  added to the mass.  Now, the current mats are nigh on two feet thick.  The tumbling of the dead reeds weaves the mats and the tidal surge lifts them and carries them to the shoreline or beyond.  Often, trash becomes entangled in or floats atop of the mats.  Once on shore, this becomes a thick mess that has to be hauled away or burned.

 My ponderings were to the point that something could be done with these mats.  There has to be some use for such things!  Surely, some creative person can figure out a useful purpose!  Then, I can "donate" my marsh mats and be free from the work of removing them!  (Genius at work here!)  If I can only get someone to "want" those mats!  

  In reality, I leave the outer mats as they are.  They do provide shelter for many critters during the winter months and often critters make dens beneath the thick mats.  The woven grass makes an ideal roof to cover the dens and protect the little ones.  Otters love these things! So do the nutria, marsh rabbits and a lot of birds. Anything not up in the yard, can stay for the critters!  (I am just figuring ways to get out of work, in case you have not noticed!)

  

Just Another Relaxing Day in the Garden

  So I hear tell that gardening is supposed to be relaxing.  It gets you outside in the fresh air, gives a good bit of exercise and gives you a sense of accomplishment.  While all are true and all are good for your health, sometimes things can seem to be just the opposite.  Instead of relaxing, there times when the work is too strenuous, the smell of cow poop being used as fertilizer is rank and that sense of accomplishment goes right out the window.  Today....today.

  I needed more garden space than I had available since the seedlings in the greenhouse were outgrowing their tiny pots.  Recently, Son had created a "bog" for one of the clue hunts we hold each October.  This bog was nothing more than a terraced water garden lined with some heavy plastic.  The thing was still partially intact and needed some definite help.  He had the bright idea of renovating said bog into an herb patch.  Sounded good to me so we set to work.  As I cleaned out the "bog's" plastic lining and any remaining plants, he turned the soil and made rows. Each row was filled with a hefty layer of cow poop.  Smelly! The place looked pretty good after three hours of heavy labor.  That relaxing gardening bit was starting to be the furthermost thing from my mind.  I wiped beads of sweat from my brow and guzzled another glass of cool water.  

  Finally, one section of the terrace was ready for planting.  Son fetched a tray of seedlings from the greenhouse.  This tray contained hot peppers. Good enough.  They would occupy the first section of the garden.  He dipped buckets of water from the Frog Pond (added nutrients!) and filled each row with several inches of the murky water.  My job was to transplant the peppers.  No problem!  We made quick work of this part of the chore.  With my head bent near the earth (and the mixture of pond water and cow poop), I needed constant reminding that being outdoor breathing the (fresh) air is healthy!

  Then there was that sense of accomplishment.  Yep, we had completed one part of the terrace planting and it looked great!  The tiny pepper plants were all sitting perkily in their new beds and....wait a minute! Where were my plants???  I let out a gasp of disbelief.  Several of my freshly planted pepper plants were topped off and were laying flat on the ground!  Horrors!  Son and I surveyed the matter and soon found the culprit!  A cutworm had already lopped of three plants!  I lopped him. Smack! Squish! Ugh!  Stupid worm!  Groan!  I suppose by tomorrow morning more of my peppers will have met their demise at the hands...uh..jaws..mouths(?) of evil cutworms.  I will replant but will follow Pop's method of putting an tin can (both ends opened) around each plant.  Lets just see the cutworm chew through that!  

  Yep, gardening is relaxing.  Right...fun times in the backyard for sure!  Yep, I love it!