How do seasons change here? Let me count the ways...

Autumn has always been my favorite time of year. I love endless banks of gorgeous colored leaves; they seem to be celebrating the past year's achievements before letting go to make room for new growth. I love the crisp, cool mornings and evenings. I love the sound my feet make shuffling through carpets of dried leaves, and the musty smell that rises every time I take a step. I love the hint of smoke that rises on the air...a spicy middle note of the ambrosia to my senses that is autumn.

I do miss Northern autumns. In South Mississippi's warm, Gulf Coast climate the seasons are not so clearly delineated. Folks around here are wont to describe spring or fall as "raggedy". Autumn is not the glorious display of color that it is in other parts of the country. Although puncutated by an occasional flaming orange maple or brilliant red crepe myrtle, the piney woods stay green. How then, you might ask, do we mark the season without the changing of the colors?

You know it's fall when...

10. You actually don't run the A/C for a whole week.
9. An occasional punch of fall color pops out and startles you on a drive through the piney woods.
8. The love bugs are finally GONE!
7. Pine straw gets stuck in your flip flops when you walk.
6. There are only 2 vehicles in line at the ice machine.
5. Winter clothes appear in the store: t-shirts and shorts in darker colors.
4. The morning dew doesn't burn off the grass until at least 7 am.
3. Turnips and sweet 'taters replace watermelons in the back of pickup trucks on the side of the road.
2. You get pelted with acorns from a live oak while soaking up the sunshine.
1. It's so frigid outside in the morning that you really have to bundle up on your way into work, so you dig a sweatshirt out of winter storage.


*Stay tuned for "Signs of Winter in the Deep South: Are the Fire Ants Hibernating YET??"

Love is in the air

Twice a year, the Gulf Coast is plagued by swarms of harmless black flying insects numbering in the hundreds of thousands. Their slow, drifting movement is almost reminiscent of snow fall. The flights occur twice each year, first in late spring, then again in late summer--for periods of 4 to 5 weeks. The wise Southerner breathes with his mouth shut in March, April, August, and September.

The Lovebug is so named because it spends almost the entirety of its adult life joined below the hip with its mate in one long love fest, even while in flight. After mating, the male dies, but the female drags him around by the hiney anyhow until she lays her eggs.

Lovebugs are the bane of car owners. During peak season, so many of them splatter on the windshield that you need to use your wiper blades and fluid even on short drives. The sheer volume of them plastered on the grill has been known to clog air intakes. If left for more than an hour or two, the remains become dried and extremely difficult to remove without a scraper; because the insect's body is so acidic, it can actually pit and etch paint and chrome.

For reasons nobody seems to know, lovebugs seem to be attracted to lighter colored objects and especially white ones. Rather than get all stressed that your white picket fence or car are now black, try to enjoy the seasonal decorating. Who knows? --the little critters may even inspire you to romance. Just don't try to nuzzle out on the porch swing, or you might get a little something more than sugah in your sweet bubby's kiss!

Good Morning, Sunshine!

At our house, the alarm clock goes off early in the morning: between 4:45 and 5:15. Although my loving husband wants me to get my rest and tiptoes around trying not to wake me, I like to try and rise with him so that I can start his day with a hug and a kiss, and pour him a hot cup of coffee for the drive into work.

Once he is on his way, I open the doors leading onto the deck and sit motionless in the cool darkness.

The bullfrog chorus at the pond rings out rhythmically until the first hint of dawn, when the croaking grows sleepy and irregular and is joined by the soft, tentative chirping of the early songbirds. As the sky goes from a dark inky gray to lavender to pink, the songbird divertimento crescendos, peaking as the rays of the sun break over the treetops. They are joined by the twittering of red-tailed wrens and house martins, and the oaks and maples come alive with the motion of their feathered residents.

Mating pairs swoop and soar, diving low at my feet before chasing one another in upward spirals around tree trunks; curious young birds alight next to me and wonder at what manner of creature I am, luxuriating in the morning breeze.

The distinctive chirping of the cardinals is followed by the raucous bickering of the jays, and the tranquil spell is broken. I soak in the warmth of the sun for a few minutes more and, looking to heaven, give thanks for this beautiful gift to the world that is new every morning, bright as the dawn and just as fleeting: life.

No wonder the ancient sages called this transition from darkness to light the Ambrosial Hours! They are truly nectar to my soul, poured out afresh every morning like the dew drops that quench the green world around me.

It is altogether too easy to lose this sense of peace as I go through the rest of the day with its demands and flurries of activity, but then I spy banks of yellow coreopsis by the roadside--little treasures scattered about by the Creator. They call this creation back to relationship, peace, stillness and a sense of interconnectedness by the nodding of their flowered heads: "Good morning, sunshine!" Whether it is morning, noon or late in the afternoon, I smile back and thank them for reminding me.

Ribbit

Perhaps it is because I grew up in a city, where the only animals we came in contact with were our pets and the only wild creatures were earthworms and ladybugs. Perhaps it can be ascribed to my perpetual sense of child-like wonder. It is certainly due in part to my appreciation of all creation as miraculous, diverse, interconnected, and precious.

"It" is the absolute kick I get out of waking up to a new surprise from nature every day; yesterday, my gift was this enormous bullfrog sitting on the front lawn when I left the house.


His body was at least 6" across. I stooped down to take a closer look. "Good Morning there! How are you?" I smiled. He blinked, quite unperturbed, and replied, "Wrrrok".

I wished him plentiful insects to eat and a moist, shady place to rest and went on my way. He was gone by the time I returned, but I heard a bullfrog chorus ringing loud and clear from the pond at 4 o'clock this morning and thought of my little friend. I can count on him to help keep down the insect population, and he can count on me to make sure his pond-side habitat remains undisturbed. We are, together, part of the great web of life on this planet.

In human terms, my husband and I are the owners of 2 acres of land. In reality, we are merely caretakers of it; the land will outlast us, and receive our bones after we have one day breathed our last.

There is no quiet place in the cities.
No place to hear the unfurling of leaves in spring
or the rustle of the insect's wings.
The clatter only seems to insult the ears.
And what is there to life if a man cannot hear
the lonely cry of the whippoorwill
or the arguments of the frogs around the pond at night?

The air is precious to man
for all things share the same breath;
the beast, the tree, the man,
they all share the same breath.
You must remember that the air is precious,
that the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports.

All things are connected.
Whatever befalls the earth
befalls the sons of earth.
If men spit upon the ground,
they spit upon themselves.

This we know;
the earth does not belong to man.
All things are connected
like the blood which unites one family.

The earth is precious to Him,
and to harm the earth
is to heap contempt on its Creator.

~Chief Seattle

Flying Teeth

Spring has come to Mississippi, and the flora and fauna are once again stirring to life. Dogwoods are in full bloom, adorning the newly-green forests with their creamy white lace. Trillium and yellow coreopsis bloom on the edge of the piney woods, punctuated by Queen Anne's Lace and bluebells. Wisteria grows wild, weaving itself with abandon through the mayhaw, sweet gum, wax myrtles and cedar elms, adorning them with lusciously fragrant purple clusters that surprise and delight the eye. Fields are sprinkled with wildflowers and bordered by banks of azaleas in hues of fuschia, magenta and crimson. The briars that were entwined unnoticed through every shrub and hedge have now burst forth in bloom; roadsides and manicured landscapes alike are lavishly strewn with the fragrant white petals. Calves and kids cavort in lush and verdant pastures, and birds trill from dawn until dusk. Alas, the bugs have also awakened.

Every region of the United States has its own particular insect nuisance, but Gulf Coast bugs are...well...special. Since Hurricane Katrina wiped out most of the local bat population--and therefore natural population controls--they've been particularly nasty.

Last summer's weather conditions made it a banner year for mosquitoes. We were more than happy when several geckos were discovered in the house, and let them stay. The children have been taught to never, ever swat a 'mosquito hawk' or 'skeeter eater' that finds its way indoors.

Midges, otherwise known as No See-Ums or "Flying Teeth", are perhaps the most aggravating. They look like this,

but they feel like this:


Despite its microscopic size, this nasty gnat boasts a ferocious bite. It measures only about 1/32 of an inch in length, and can easily slip through the mesh of screen doors and windows. You might not see 'um, but you definitely feel 'um. When the midge feeds, it slices open the skin with a razor-sharp mouth designed especially for the job. Then it injects the wound with secretions from its salivary glands to keep the blood from clotting while it has its fill, chewing up a small area of your flesh.

It's enough to make your skin crawl, itch, blister, bleed and scar--and it does. A small, intensely itchy bump will appear about a day after you've been bitten. Scratching and digging at the bump, as you will doubtless do, only makes it spread and itch worse. Don't worry; bites fade in just a few days, unless you are one of those who does not react well to the anticoagulant agent--in which case you will be blistered and exquisitely itchy for at least two weeks, and should invest in one of these nifty suits:

When I was six or seven years old, I always used to wonder why biting insects exist. I couldn't come up with a single use for them, except human torment. It turns out that the Flying Teeth actually do serve a purpose. In Costa Rica, they pollinate the rubber tree, the cacao bush, and the mango tree. Without cacao, you would not have chocolate. Most southerners could do without mangos, but chocolate is an altogether different matter.

If you're coming to south Mississippi, be sure and eat plenty of garlic on a daily basis and don't forget to take your B-vitamins. Both are supposed to help to make you less appealing to the winged, biting hordes...unless you're me, in which case it apparently makes you taste better. If you make it as far as my house without being eaten alive, you're welcome to try an herbal repellent I'm cooking up. According to a study done by the military, one of the ingredients is more effective than DEET at repelling the nasty critters. I'll be sure to let you know how it works.

Tune in next moth...I mean, month...for another episode of "What's Buggin' You?"...

Fairies Danced Here

I found this "fairy ring" growing in my favorite grove of trees on our property. The way the light reflects off the grass, it glows as if it's on fire.

Fairy rings are the product of the spreading mycelia of one of 40 or 50 varieties of mushroom growing in wooded areas, either above or below ground. Fungi can deplete the soil of readily available nutrients like nitrogen, causing plants growing within the circle to be stressed. This leads to plant discoloration. Some fungi also produce chemicals that act like hormones called gibberellins, which affect plants by causing rapid, luxuriant growth.

In Celtic folklore, fairy rings were said to be where fairies had danced the night before. If a human steps into the ring he or she is compelled to join the fairies in their wild dancing, which would seem to last for a few minutes but in fact lasts for seven years or more. The unfortunate mortal dancer can be rescued by having someone outside the ring grab hold of his or her coat-tails.

So far, I haven't had to pull any of the kids out. :-)

Signs of Spring

I awoke this morning and looked out my window to find, under a gray sky, this beautiful harbinger of spring where yesterday there were only bare branches. I love surprises, and this one will have me smiling all day.

"The forest trees have yet a sighing mouth,
Where dying winds of March their branches swing,
While upward from the dreamy, sunny South,
A hand invisible leads on the Spring.

His rounds from bloom to bloom the bee begins
With flying song, and cowslip wine he sups,
Where to the warm and passing southern winds
Azaleas gently swing their yellow cups.

Soon everywhere, with glory through and through,
The fields will spread with every brilliant hue."

-George Marion McClellan