Your Creative Space

When I walked outside yesterday morning to " Mini sled dog wannabe" we stopped at the sound of a large whoosh and bubbling up of water about ten feet from the bayou bank. And up popped the seven foot gator DH had told me about the day before. Apparently he's been hanging around just beyond the brick steps that go down to the bayou.

Our business has been taking all of my time this year and I haven't had a chance to plant flowers around my little outside writing space. But the alligator sighting reminded me of the joy I got from my little creative space last year with the exception of the uneasy feelings when the alligators lay there and watch me write.

There are more creatures of all kinds on the bayou including mosquitoes. This has kept me from making the best use of my favorite spot most of the year. I don't know why it took me so long to thing about it but last year I bought a 10 by 10 screened in canopy which converted my problematic space because of these pests into a perfect spot on any non-rainy day between 60 and 85.





 Inside I'm safe from bugs but can enjoy the jumping fish, tall graceful herons, deer, birds - and keep an eye on the alligators, or the other way around.

We all have our favorite creative activities and the space that lends itself best to it. Where's yours? Is it a specially designed spot or the eeked out corner of the family kitchen? What do you do there? Write, scrapbook, paint?

Spring restoration

After the terrible depression that winter brings it is such a relief to sit by the bayou finally and listen to birds chirp, squirrels chatter, hummingbirds hum, the breeze ruffle the leaves. The new chimes lend a soothing melody to it all ranging from just single ringing tones to a light musical clang.( And then there's the crop duster in the background dusting the soybeans - mostly - with fertilizer and insecticide. Ugh!)

I can't help but think of the Psalm - "He leads me beside still waters, it restores my soul." I'm not sure I could ever move away from the beauty and peace that living near the water affords. If you know that I grew up in a subdivision 8 miles from the D.C. line, you might think that strange. Guess it just goes to show how flexible we are. I never would have thought I'd be shooting snakes, watching for alligators and working for my husband in his crawfish trailer either. But then I never had dreams of how my life would turn out to be after I lost the big one - getting to the moon as the first woman astronaut.

That is not until I gave in to desire to write. Someone asked on a blog or twitter somewhere what you would do if you won the lottery. How would your life change? What would get rid of, where would you live, what would you keep?

I'd live somewhere cooler, probably South Carolina, closer to my favorite Navy Guy, and to prime fishing for hubby. Build a house on a lake and WRITE full time.

What about you?

Morning Romp

I got up a little later this morning, 6:30, and surprisingly, Dusty was being quiet. But as soon as I tiptoed out of the bedroom the sound of the fan tipped him off to my presence. He began yipping and jumping against the side of the playpen in his usual unrestrained fervor.

I called to him soothingly, "Is Momma's baby awake. Come here, Sweetie." And as usual for the first full minute of momma-loving, he's sweet and gives good puppy kisses. Then things turn to non-momma-loving activities. Peeing, Eating, Playing and Biting.

But this morning, he wasn't too unruly so I decided to get down to his level - quite a task for an adult to get to eye-and-cuddle level with a six inch tall dog - and slip his collar on.

Let me digress a second. As you may know, Dusty has been showing extreme aggression when we try to slip a collar over his head. Yesterday - I hesitate to mention this but here goes - CFM was babysitting and took the little boy outside. Tiger, the maniacal cat has decided she likes playing with Dusty, or else she's trying to get rid of him.

She leads him down the steep hill to the bayou, around the lot, playfully batting and teasing him. She won't even climb a tree unless absolutely necessary and then only to say, Naa Naa Naa NaNa Na, see what I can do!

So CFM followed them around the yard, down the hill, over limbs and never could catch him. He told me on the phone that he'd finally had to resort to extreme measures to catch the boy. He found a lightweight fishing net that he uses to seine bait fish in the bayou and tossed it over Dusty as he made a pass. Sheesh!

He said, "You'd have thought I was killing him. He screamed and whimpered and cried."

Well, duh. No use wasting a lot of words. I simply said, don't do that again.

So this morning I told him I've been getting Dusty used to treats. I used one to get his collar on yesterday and figured he could tempt him with it and get him in the house. After I got his collar on, I tucked a treat into my pocket, took my camera and with just my slippers on, let him outside.

WHAT was I thinking? Tiger was waiting for him. She ignored the food I uncovered for her to lure him into play. It started innocently enough, a romp near the back door, then they Tiger ran down the hill by the boat.Snugging my sweater around me, I hollered at CFM to throw me my sandals. ( I didn't know it was 30 degress outside, the coolness hadn't seeped into the house.)


Then I took off after them. Up and down the hill, over tree branches and dead limbs, through the wet gumbo (louisiana mud) up the hill and over concrete steps and old bricks. Tiger stopped and climbed a tree just out of Dusty's reach and I thought, oh good, I've got him.

The the cat jumped over him and he took off. I was stepping gingerly on the steep hill which was getting steeper and brushier, the closer they got to the Wildlife refuge. Ironic huh? The wild cat taking wild pup into the refuge to lose him.

I was getting desperate to catch him, the leaves and briars were getting thicker, the palmettos slapping my sides as I tried to run after them, yelling toward the house, Hey, and Help, hoping CFM would hear me. Then the maniac twins were entering the refuge about a quarter mile from the house. My sweater got hung on a thorn tree and I began to fear that would not catch my crazy little dog. When the terrain got more difficult for his short legs Tiger sat just out of reach and waited on him to catch up.

I was out of reach and sound of the house, my only hold card - the little treat that was still in my pocket. I pushed branches and palmettos aside and kept telling him to come. Yeah right. Once he actually looked at me and I said, "Dusty, Treat," and held it out.

The cat moved away grabbing his attention. Cat 10, Marley 0.

My hands and feet felt like they were getting frostbitten, my nose was running, and I was getting scared that I wasn't going to catch Dusty in this trashy, rough terrain. I kept thinking, thank God it's not hot, because it's rattlesnake territory.

Finally, the cat perched on the end of a log that Dusty couldn't jump over without extra effort. He turned and I offered the treat. He came over and sniffed, then stole the treat and ran off. Talk about panic! Now I'm screaming at him. Dusty. Dusty, drop it. Uh huh, he understands, drop it, right? But I got lucky.

He always drops it to get a good bite on it so as I came closer, I noticed it was a foot away from him. I reached for it and this time I held it firmly in my hand. "Come here, sweetie," I said aloud, thinking, you crazy little fart, wait til I get my hands on you. As he reached me I grabbed him, holding tight as he wiggled. And started back toward the house, knowing I'd have to be double careful getting there. If I dropped him and he took off again, I wouldn't be catching him this time.

Okay, so why didn't I take his picture as he stood on the other side of the thorn trees, briars, downed limbs and foot deep leaves of the wildlife refuge. The little bugger's eyes gleamed with maniacal intent. The cat sitting nearby, non-chalant, as if this wasn't all her fault.

I was too damn cold.

Never again..

Hurricane Ike - no, no

Nope, I don't wanna talk about it.

On my first website I had a picture of the bayou at its normal level in Fall.













This is now after Gustav.



Water has dropped a couple of inches today so if we don't get any rain, we may gain a few steps before we get another hurricane. I thought I saw a beaver a while ago. That would be okay but I'm keeping my eyes closely peeled for alligators and snakes. Usually there's about 30 feet and a hill between me and an alligator. Now the water is just a few feet away.

Yesterday, it was cloudy and rainy. The sound of chain saws was everywhere. It's so beautiful out today though. Low humidity, 77 degrees, a light breeze. The only disturbance in the fresh air is the occasional smell of smoke from burning limbs and debris. Seems like all of nature is relaxing, breathing a sigh of relief.

I truly hope and pray that this isn't the calm before the next storm. I wouldn't wish this on anyone but I'd like to see Ike go to Mexico..