To bask in sunshiney warmth.

After a truly horrendous trip from D.C. to Lake Charles on Friday (twelve hours total; last flight had no water in the bathroom), we have relaxed in the most wonderful ways. 

Early morning fog over the bayou

We awoke yesterday to the most glorious cape of fog draped over the bayou's shoulders. It burned off and then the rains came. Dad and I went to the SW Louisiana garden show where we attended a fantastic session on growing herbs. Did you know that dill is a solo performer? Dill is not friendly! Plant it by itself or with at least a foot of space all around. 

When we emerged from the expo, the sun was shining, and the remainder of the day was a stunner. Dad and Oliver took the canoe out and tipped it around the bend from home. It took them a long while to bail out, and Ol later told me that he was worried the entire time that a hibernating alligator would wake up and eat him. Poor kiddo. I must say those beasts scare me too.

An enormous pelican glided down the bayou, his huge brown wings arcing out and over, tips just piercing the water's surface, a slight wake left in its path.  You don't often see pelicans around here. It was such a beauty.

The brown pelican is LA's state bird.  

It paddled back down at a rapid clip before edging out of sight. Meanwhile, a bluebird peeked out of its house and then picked through the grass for food and nest materials. A lizard sunned in full camouflage on a long amaryllis leaf, a graceful white egret fished on the shore opposite us, and a majestic blue heron swept by repeatedly.

Today was another beaut, and the warmest yet. We had a lazy morning-I spent most of it in a super comfortable reclining chaise in the yard-before being picked up by some of my parents' friends for an afternoon on their marvelous pontoon boat. I am telling y'all- this weather and natural beauty and wide open space are all desperately good for a winter-weary soul.

I never tire of Spanish moss. 

I'm in bed already, tuckered out in the best way after two full days of sunshine and family. Hope y'all are well!!

A calm spot in the gale

I'm sitting in a heavy, white wooden rocking chair on the deep, blue-ceilinged back porch at my parents' home. A mighty wind has blown unceasingly for the past many hours. Tom finds it ominous. I love it and wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now.

Apparently, there's a tornado watch in effect.

I don't know where the boys or my parents are, the baby or my sister. I can't hear anything over the wind except the chimes, which are working double-time singing their as-yet-unwritten song in real time. The porch fans are off but spinning admirably. 

It's high tide, and the bayou is racing past. Can something race languidly? I never thought so, but the bayou does. A lone egret slinks carefully across the edge of the mudflat on the other shore; slow step, slow step, long pause. He assumes statue pose and stares intently before deciding the fish isn't there or isn't catchable. Then, he moves on. I wish the roseate spoonbill would return. He's such a becoming shade of pink. And that beak! Prehensile serveware.

In the yard, the leaves are running even faster than the water just beyond. On tip toes they skirt across the prickly St. Augustine blades. The grass is greengoldbrown; it looks like it thought about dying for winter but then realized winter wasn't really coming. It's in purgatory. 

The live oaks and pines and cypresses are demonstrating why they rarely topple, even in all the storms and gales they weather down here. Both strong and flexible, they move with the wind as if part of it. Their cones and seeds stay put, holding on to the branches as tightly as the trees' roots do the water-saturated earth below. 

I remain happily tethered to the porch. The swing and other rockers wave and sway, as if inhabited by imaginary friends. Birds tumble throughout the air in controlled fashion, and the clouds move so quickly I am certain I'm watching a time lapse.

The Christmas lights, star-shaped and pale blue, that Mom hung all along the porch railings dance too. They seem somewhat out of place on this warm December day, itself a rather out-of-place thing, really. My bare legs and feet and arms have not a single goose bump. I'm glad I pulled my hair into a ponytail before coming outside. It needs to be lassoed right now.

It's not remotely quiet out here, but to me it feels wholly peaceful, which just goes to show that restorative silence is a relative thing. 

For the first time in easily conjured memory, I think I feel relaxed. I am no longer sure what that means, but this feeling isn't familiar and it is lovely, so surely that mystery counts for something.

I love this place. The magic is undeniable. It's not intense, there are kids and surrogate parents all around, there is ample space and are fewer expectations of cleanliness and decorum. I'm not saying it's optimal but there is something SO freeing and right in all the laissez-faire'ness of here.

Tonight we spent with first and second and third cousins, a steak-and-play dinner unlike most. There was an excess of wine and also dessert. Bedtime rules flew away with the wind. But everyone was happy, and happily worn out. 

And I will miss this place that I still call home. 

Christmas is wrapped

Despite the heat, rain and humidity, this year's Christmas was really wonderful- relaxed, happy, delicious and fun. 

Nanny's cranberry sauce, served in one of the bowls she always used for it.

The kids received two light sabers a piece and these masks and have continued to reenact The Force Awakens, mostly channeling their inner dark sides. They even enjoyed a spectacular nighttime saber battle last night before we all watched The Bishop's Wife and then waddled sleepily off to bed.

FN2187 and Kylo Ren

Today was spent resting, enjoying the experience of it not raining, and playing with gifts. 

I dove into Between You & Me: Confessions of a Comma Queen, the book that Jack gave me. Yes, I'm a complete grammar nerd and thus far am loving the book ].

We gave my brother-in-law a camera-outfitted drone, and he's been like a kid in a candy store since opening it. I love watching adults unleash and let fly their inner kid flags. Today was spectacularly windy and the drone got stuck in the upper reaches of pines and oaks not once or twice but three times.

Each time, the ladders were erected in the hopes that tall men would gain enough height to shake the drone free. Alas, no.

The women went inside, chuckling but also wishing to avoid witnessing what was surely to come, and outside, someone -one of the kids?- suggested tying a long rope to an arrow and using a bow (the boys and T got archery sets two Christmases back and still love to target shoot) to launch the arrow into the tree. Could the arrow knock the drone down? Or, if the arrowhead stuck tight into a near branch, could someone then shake it enough to loose the toy?

My brother-in-law yanking on the rope tied to the arrow that Tom successfully shot into the branch on which the drone was stuck.

People, it worked. All three times. I have no idea what the neighbors imagined was going on over here, but no one said anything. Getting it out was team work at its best. Also, watching the drone-freeing was hilariously amusing.

I'm off to bed now but wanted to leave you with another bayou pic. Hope you're all happy and well!