My eyes are like a dam holding back a river of grief. I recognize the gulf disaster as a life-altering event and it strikes at the heart of all I hold dear. Most of my family came from and still live in the gulf states. What real wealth i have inherited from my forebears are an attachment to land; to place and to the order of nature. My great uncle was the game and fish warden for Forrest County -just sixty miles north of the Mississippi gulf shore. He used to take me out where he would find illegal animal traps, then spring and collect them. He gave me my first horse and taught me the birds and the trees while I rode with him into the wild and magical places of southern mississsippi.
My grandmother had a house on stilts on Lake Ponchatrain in New Orleans, and later a little brick house in Baton Rouge. I never smell mint that I dont hear the squeak of her screen door. While visiting her, I can remember going to watch big ships gliding into locks on the great Mississippi river to be pumped down to sea level where they could enter the gulf. I can remember flying in my dad's little piper aircraft over Cat Island in the gulf and landing in a fresh cut field in Louisianna to visit cousins. I can smell it even now and remember the golden light on grassy brackish creeks, the tips of the grasses decorated with bright blue dragonflies.
Where does a grief-stricken spirit take refuge from a situation that continues on unabated now for 71 days?
Cosmos "Bright Lights"
A kind of Baby's Breath -much better than the kind that comes with roses
The farmers market moved to the city park and it is much much better. It is now the charming truck market a small town should have and the shady trees make it a pleasant promenade. Last week there were homemade breads and jams, lots of beans and cabbage and onions, herbs, daylillies, birdhouses, tie dyed t-shirts and my market:
I had both sunshine carrots, and the ones that are purple on the outside but orange on the inside.
Both of them are very sweet and crunchy. Next time, I plan to thin them more because I had too many that were too small to sell. I mostly eat those while weeding. I usually have 4-5 wildflower bouquets that have some of my garden flowers mixed in.
I had my herbs for sale in little cones of brown paper tied with a very thin golden thread. A package of red, orange and yellow cherry tomatoes went home with my friend Sarah, the unofficial mayor of Blue RIdge. Peppers, both banana and jalapeno, were the last to sell. The eggs always go and i think packaging them in groups of five is appreciated by those in single or just a two person household. I also started making inexpensive "folk art" paintings on wood:
This is an Old-English Game Hen. I love this one and wouldnt mind keeping it for myself.
After the market, I passed a fresh cut hay field on the way home and savored its sweet fragrance.
Koby had a big day in the creek and Trout was off on an adventure. She is free to leave the property because I know she is wily and can take care of herself. She would never even let a stranger touch her, much less get in a car with them. Koby, however, is too friendly to be allowed "off-campus".
On saturday evenings, I take my Honey out for a ride around the county. We go out around 8:15 and stay out until almost dark. Here he is waiting patiently while I photograph an old barn. He is so good.
Do you need refuge from gulf heartache too? I made up the guest room for you, and made my mom's eggy Mac-n-Cheese in the crock pot.
Finally, my state-of-the-union commentary.