turtle love

Box turtles are one of my favorite creatures--I really can't say why. Maybe it's their coloring--often bright orange, yellow or red---including their eyes--or maybe it's because they are so long lived --surviving for many decades in the same places. I've always rescued those I found on highways or busy roads and released them away from traffic. Many years ago I had a few in a large pen that came to me for strawberries and crushed snails--they were surprisingly observant and quick to learn.

In recent years they have become quite scarce, and we rarely see one crossing a road or on the place. So I was thrilled to find one in our shady pasture this morning--a lovely plump. colorful female. I took photos of her, and then released her back into the pasture hoping she stays safely on this place.

gone fishing

When I was a girl my dad would take us fishing often in the spring and summer. We lived in New Orleans and places to fish were everywhere. On the West Bank we would go to Lafitte or Grand Isle---later in Gentilly we would go to Lake Pontchartrain--or drive to the Rigolets or even the Mississippi coast.

It was nothing fancy or complicated. Early on it was cane poles, and later we had cheap rods and reels. We always brought crab nets, and if fishing was slow we usually had some crabs to bring home for boiling or gumbo.


The smell of the ocean, the sounds of sea birds and splash of water, the colors of sea and sky were feasts for the senses. Gazing at my fishing line wondering what was happening beneath the surface, the excitement of the big "tug" and trying to reel in the "big" fish were all part of the magic.

For me going fishing was truly about the journey and not necessarily what went home in the ice chest.

rose garden

About 8 years ago I became interested in old garden or antique roses. It became an obsession as new interests sometimes do with me. My quest for information began on the internet as I haunted a forum on old roses--and then it spread to books which I carried around with me. Eventually I acquired a few and placed them in a new bed on the north side of the house. It was fun collecting each one and learning its history. The rose bed snaked across the yard and I added various perennials and shrubs. What I didn't anticipate was the amount of work needed to keep it all going. I was still teaching at the time, and weeding, fertilizing, pruning, etc became an overwhelming chore. It was about then that climate change was becoming evident, and I realized we were in drought mode most of the time. I spent the spring, summer and even part of winter running hoses to keep the bushes alive.

When they bloomed they were stunning! And most of them were fragrant. I couldn't believe how wonderful it was to have them in the garden. The deer loved them, too. After about three years they began to pass through the yard and eat the tender leaves and buds until they had pruned them to sticks.

I tried various deterrents--nothing worked--so I had to admit defeat and retreated to a smaller rose garden in a more protected area. They still bloom beautifully and smell heavenly, but every time I see a photo of the big garden I grieve for that large expanse of color.

yellow rain

We had a shower yesterday--it was a small one --just a little over an inch, but it really made the grass turn green overnight. Some of the pollen washed out of the air making a yellow coating on the pond and giving us some allergy relief.

While trying to get a photograph of the pollen I heard a bird call from the other side of the pond--a sandpiper!--I was startled, tried for a picture--and got a quick one before he flew. It is distant and blurred--

update: maybe a lesser yellowlegs--gave a yu-yu call as it flew away--but leg color is not clear in this photo

old homesteads

Many years ago when we first moved to our place in the country there were still many old overgrown homesteads scattered across the countryside. On weekends we would hike to them and hunt for old bottles or other evidence of the former residents. One of these places was the "Rout Place", and the walk there seemed rather long because it was through fields and woods, and there were gates to open and close. The old pear tree stood witness to the old site. In our youthful enthusiasm we carried bags of green pears home only to find they were as hard as rocks and therefore too difficult to peel.
While walking this week I looked up to see the old pear tree in full bloom glowing across acres of pasture. The woods have been cut down, and suddenly the pear tree doesn't seem so far away. People have come and gone--houses rotted away--perimeters of pastures and places have moved back and forth--but the pear tree is still there stirring memories of long ago times and happy rambles through the woods and fields.

it looks like spring

The weeks have flown by since I posted on blogger. Spring has exploded onto the scene--trees are budding out, insects are buzzing in the yard and the air is filled with the sweet fragrance of the flowering sasanqua and winter honeysuckle. The last two mornings have been cold, though, and lows of 27 and 37 have nipped all the early blooms. My thoughts are turning to gardens and hummingbirds--

Small bluet flowers sparkle across the lawn--how can something so small make such a nice presence?--they float like a blue mist on the grass.

The martins have returned and gurgle overhead all day--happy music.....