Five Feet High and Rising

How high's the water, mama?
Two feet high and risin'
How high's the water, papa?
She said it's two feet high and risin'

We can make it to the road in a homemade boat
That's the only thing we got left that'll float
It's already over all the wheat and oats,
Two feet high and risin'

- Johnny Cash

We awoke to gray skies and muddy water inching in quickly from Bayou Manchac to the North and our creek to the south. It didn't come as any surprise that the creek had flooded, and in fact we had stocked up on groceries knowing we may be stuck on our side of the road for several days. It's when I stepped out onto the back porch and realized I could go fishing right off the edge into my backyard that I started to worry a bit. He advised me to use what water I needed and fill up the bath-tubs because he was shutting off the water pump before it became inundated. As i was filling up the kettle to make us coffee (because clearly my priorities were sound), he came in and decided we should quickly pack a bag and get out while we could. So, we and our dogs boarded a kind neighbor's pirogue and floated through our flooded little  street as our magnolia blooms waved us farewell. 

We didn't return until five days later, in another small kayak that a wonderfully nice stranger let us borrow. By the grace of God, our tiny blue house managed to stay dry. Out of the flood waters in the backyard, one little zinnia from my garden stuck through and I wanted to cry out of happiness and exhaustion. It is a bitter-sweet thought to know your home is safe, while your friends and family and community have lost so much. These days have been emotionally and physically taxing. We have spilled blood, sweat (so much sweat), and tears because of this flood. We have laughed and cried and hugged. Everyone is doing what they can to help, and through this devastation, it's so nice to be reminded how loving and kind our community is. I'm so proud to be a part of it. Stay strong my sweet sweet Louisianians. And to you non-locals, please keep us in your thoughts and prayers as we slowly but surely rebuild our home.

A Walk in City Park

Sometimes it's easy to overlook the beauty of familiar things. We grow accustomed to our surroundings forgetting to take it all in. I have never hidden the fact that I am completely biased to my home state. The more I live in it and get to know it, the more I love my southern Louisiana community. Sometimes though, I find myself taking it for granted. So many experiences I miss going on right in front of my eyes. This past weekend, Trent and I took the dogs for a simple walk in City Park, but it was just what I needed to slow down and smell the magnolias. Not to mention, Norris and Cooper had so much fun. Norris waded into the water for a nice cool dip, while Cooper barked at it frighteningly. Oh man, those two keep me entertained. We also came across a handsome Tricolored Heron who was kind enough to allow me to snap a few pictures. Here's to keeping the overlooking to a minimum and taking in as much as possible.

All The Citrus

In the past year or two, Trent and I have made an effort to eat locally grown produce, and with that commitment we have been seasonal eating. We have recently become acquainted with the sweetest little Farmer's Market near our home that we visit on the weekends to get our produce, dairy, and coffee for the week. Shopping the seasons has allowed me to obsess over what each one has to offer, and oh how I look forward to my favorites. If you haven't guessed already, winter has me on a citrus craze, and I can't get enough! Our weekly citrus haul consists of blood oranges, navel oranges, satsumas, tangerines, grapefruits, lemons, and kumquats, and man oh man they are good! I've been dreaming of making a citrusy bundt cake or little madeleines, however I can't seem to set any aside for baking before consuming them all. I'm so grateful for the local farmers and the market that we have available to us so close to home. And eating seasonal produce has made me appreciate each season so much more. 

Fall Blooms

It’s October. It’s finally cooling down…a little. The plants and animals seem to feel it, and I’m trying. Millet and goldenrod wave in wetlands greeting the waterfowl that are making their yearly flight from up north. They come to feast themselves into food comas on tubers and seeds much like we do with the Thanksgiving Turkey that will soon be served. Fall is here. It’s pumpkin this and apple that. I think I’ll decorate a pumpkin this weekend. Fall makes you want to do things of that sort, instead of drowning in your own sweat, it gives you refreshment. And the dogs, oh the dogs go crazy, they love it. We hope to take them camping this fall, since we had to leave them on our last trip. Our summer doldrums are fading, and I'm so happy Fall has arrived!

Roadside Stands

 I drive an hour to work and another hour home 5 days a week. It becomes exhausting, and Lord knows I've voiced my complaints about it. I complain about driving to a good job, one that I love (most of the time), in an air conditioned car, usually accompanied by my favorite music or an audiobook, through my favorite scenes on Earth. I pass by the most beautiful swamps, pastures of horses and cows, beautiful wildflowers and roadside stands selling fresh local produce and handmade goods and I complain. What's wrong with me? I read this poem today, and it really made me feel a tad ashamed of the things I take for granted.

 

Give me the gift of time

 to travel the byways

and back roads

 

And fresh eyes to see

fat, contented cows

grazing in green lush pastures

of sweet sweet clover

 

And the privilege to stop

where and when I please

at any roadside stand

for big Vidalia onions

and ripe Elberta peaches

 

-Gwen Barlow

 



So next time, before I begin to complain, I will think of this poem, roadside stands, and all the many wonderful things I have to be thankful for.

 

Photo: http://turningpoint2.tumblr.com/post/61771827399/olivia-rae-james