So yesterday morning I decided to put a few chores on the back burner and head west for a few adventures. I’ve not explored much of the beauties of south-western Loozy, although if you want to get all technical, my intended destination would probably be more appropriately deemed to reside in south-central Louisiana. And while every day really is an adventure when living life in the Louisiana wetlands, I was yearning for some new vistas.

At 6:00 AM, I grabbed my coat and grabbed my hat (it was a tad chilly and drizzily), left my worries at my doorstep, and hoped the sunny side of the street would be at my back. Unfortunately, the sun never did make much of an appearance except for about 30 seconds on my way back east. Guess it just wanted to show those meteorologists who’s boss.

Anyway, I made a quick stop at a local convenience store to get a little more Community Coffee pulsing through my veins. When you get down the bayou, a lot of the convenience stores tend to exhibit a flavor all their own which is decidedly different from the typical, I-could-be-in-anytown-USA, northern Express Mart flavor.

When you patronize one of these spots, you’re almost guaranteed the opportunity to satisfy that grease fix that accompanies fried chicken whether it’s on a stick or served up in the standard red and white checkered cardboard tray. And if chicken doesn’t fit the bill, no worries. Shrimp, oysters, crawfish, catfish, jalapenos and a multitude of other such fare should grace the menu as long as you don’t ask for it lightly sautéed in a nice lemon-pepper butter sauce. Should you desire a little beef or pork, sausage biscuits and boudin should do the trick and the jerky products typically have an entire aisle to themselves. And if you’d like to wash down all that fried goodness with a spot of Jack, no problem, just ask the clerk to grab you a bottle from behind the counter. And if you got a few dollars left in your pocket, you can slip behind the red or green swinging doors and play a few hands of video poker to see if lady luck is on your side.

So as I prepared the perfect cup of joe, the usual gang was there decked out in their LSU caps, well-worn work garb and white shrimp boots. I had arrived too late for the play-by-play recap of yesterday’s Tiger’s game and too early for the predictions for the afternoon’s Saints game, but had arrived just in time for the another favorite subject…

“I heard they’re going to close that canal and put some kind of thing that lets the water flow through.” “You know, what they don’t think about is a back-up plan.” “Yeah, well I heard they was going to put a bunch of rocks out there.” And it basically goes on and on with a whole host of “I’ve heard’s” for quite some time until someone says “You know there’s only one thing that’s going to save us. And that’s if we all just get the #@$! out of here.” Laughter erupts for about seventeen seconds and then the realization hits that such a scenario could be all too true and to dismiss that painful thought as swiftly as it arrives, the conversation quickly moves to the “What they outta do’s”. And it’s too bad more of the folks in charge don’t sit in on some of these conversations, cause these guys know a whole lot about this landscape and how it works and some of those “outta do’s” are pretty dog-gone smart.

But, time was a-wasting. So, armed with twenty ounces of goodness, $4 of jerky and a full tank of gas, it was time to head up the bayou…but, unfortunately it’s now time to hit the pavement. To be continued…

Back by popular demand. Well, maybe not by demand. And I’m not exactly sure how popular the first two installments in this series were, but I enjoy these so just humor me, alright? Alight.

Back off buddy! That’s my crab.

Ok, ok, you can have it. Holy crap, how did this happen?

Ahhh! Come on. Leave me alone, would ya? I said you could have it.

Rahhhhh! I’m a Ningagret baby!

Dude! This guy has some serious issues.

Whew! I think I lost him. I’ll just go over to the other side of the canal if that will make you happy.

Oh my gosh! Are you kidding me? Fine. I’ll just hang with my friends the pelicans.

What the what? Come on people, can’t we all just get along?

Please don’t bite me. Please don’t bit me. Really, I’m just passing through to somewhere more peaceful. Please don’t bit me.

Ahhhh….that’s more like it. Wide open sky. Smell that beautiful marsh air. Now that’s what I’m talking bout, baby.

Lord have mercy! Am I on fire? Seriously, this is just not my day.

So a couple of yellow-crowned night-herons (nyctanassa violacea) have been chilling lately in one of my favorite spots out in the marsh. As you know, I really do dig those big birds of south Louisiana. I guess, however, that I’d classify the night heron as more of a medium bird in stature when compared to some of my other larger friends like the pelican or the great blue heron or the great egret or a whole host of other more typical winged creatures down the bayou this time of year. But it’s smaller size certainly doesn’t diminish my fascination with it.

Some locals refer to this magificant bird as gros-bec (pronounced as grow-beck) which basically translates as “big beak” due to it’s shorter, thicker and very powerful bill.

As you might have guessed from it’s name, the night heron is pretty much a nocturnal hunter which makes it a little tougher to photograph. They also seem to be a more rare to see than other herons such as the great blue or the little blue. During my travels, I guess I’d say I see night herons as often as I see green herons, which, well, isn’t super often. So it’s a bit of a treat for me to great up close and personal with these guys.

But, like I said, they tend to feed early in the morning and later in the evening when the light for snapping a great shot is a bit more of a challenge. And I also find myself tending to lower my camera when they’re around to just sort of drink them in with all of their surroundings.

The night heron tends to feed on crustaceans, mollusks, frogs and insects. They usually wait in ambush mode at the water’s edge or stalk their prey when it’s dinner time. And when they’re ready to attack, attack they do.

Their favorite bayou delight is the crawfish, but hey, it isn’t crawfish season so I guess a little crab is a mighty tasty alternative.

And they definitely don’t seem to play around with their food too long.

This guy seemed to swallow his meal whole in twenty seconds flat.

And as the sun began to set quickly as it seems to do down the bayou at this time of year, it was time to bid adieu to my medium-sized bird friend and hope for another chance encounter sometime soon. I just really like this bird. He’s just got this Joe-cool, rebel without a cause look and feel to him…kind of the James Dean of south Louisiana birds…like if he were a person, you’d see him riding down some lonesome highway on a vintage Indian with the wind in his yellow crowned feathers.

So in my last post, I basically let the entire world know (well, maybe not the entire world, maybe more like 5 people) that I just turned 40. And the other night the Momster called to wish me a happy birthday and was like, “I read on that Blue Dog thing (ok, Mom, it’s called a blog) that you are lamenting your age.” And well, that’s not really it at all. It’s really more like, “What? Are we sure about this math? Hold on a sec. 2009 minus 1969 equals…wait, let me try this with a calculator. Ok, then. 2-0-0-9 minus 1-9-6-9. Hmmm…that’s weird. I guess it does equal 40. Or maybe this is just some kind of new fangled math. Yes, yes, that must be it.”

And again, don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I’m upset about this or something. I mean, I’m not having a mid-life crisis or anything. It’s just kind of weird, you know? Like…ok, hmmm…strange how that time thing works isn’t it? I mean, when I was a youngster, I pretty much figured I’d never make it past 30 so I think I kind of had my mid-life crisis at 15. And I’m sure the Momster will attest to that. Why I thought I wouldn’t make it past thirty is a tad fuzzy now, but I remember hanging out with my high school friends (who are now 40 or quickly approaching it which totally does not seem right either) trying to get someone to buy us alcohol (ok, Mom, just pretend you didn’t read that) and talking about Y-2-K although no one called it that at the time. It was just like, “oh my gosh, how weird is it going to be on December 31, 1999? Hey, we should all make a pact to get together for that New Year’s in New York City or something. That would be rad! We’ll party like it’s 1999!”

But honestly, I don’t remember exactly where I was or what I did on that New Year’s Eve, but I do remember getting up on January 1, 2000 and being glad that my alarm clock still worked and the TV stations were still on the air and my computer booted up just fine and there wasn’t some kind of “The Day After” landscape out my window. Not that I thought that was going to happen, but hey, no one knew for sure right?

Anyway, I guess I don’t have any new wisdom to share or insights in to the meaning of it all. I’m just thinking it’s time to enjoy another beautiful south Louisiana day and share a few pics of mullet flying through the air in all their majesty. What do you think? Isn’t that what it’s really about? Just enjoying where you are and who you’re with (but don’t take for granted that they’re going to be there tomorrow) and giving yourself a little challenge to be a better person than the day before? Not sure, but it works for me.

So…I’ve challenged myself to learn a little bit about the behavior of the mullet (from the family mugilidae). And let’s just say that they are a strange kind of bird in the world of south Louisiana fish. They seem to be best known for their jumping behavior although, honestly, nobody seems to have any definitive answers as to why they jump so much. Some say they jump to avoid predators. Others to say it’s to get rid of parasites. Who knows? But what I do know is that they jump a lot and they jump quickly and it’s not so easy to catch them in mid-jump with a camera. Most of the time, try as you might, you end up with something like this…

or this…

But with a little practice, you start to learn that mullet are kind of predictable. They typically jump about 3-4 times in a row. But if they flutter a little on that first jump, they probably won’t jump again right away. But if they fly out of the water on that first jump, you can sort of figure out where to aim the camera for the second, third, and if you’re lucky, fourth jumps. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy to grab a good shot. Most of time you (well, me) get something like this…

Oh geez, I think that’s a fish. What is that? So, you just sit and wait and tune in your ears and eyes and try your luck again. Jump, click. Damn. Jump, click. Damn. Ok, well at least you can tell it’s a fish that time. Ooh, cool, he’s upside down.

Alright, let’s try again. And again. And again. Yes, definitely got him that time. Well, maybe not. But better.

Ok, come on guys. I’m getting tired and now the mosquitos are descending. Give me a break will ya? Alright, a little better. But could you jump a little straighter next time?

Ok, one more time and I’m outta here. Where is that bug spray?

Alright, my little flying fish friends, that’s gonna have to do it for today. We’ll try this again some other time. If I don’t get out of here soon, I’m going to be one giant mosquito bite. Oh, that’s a beautiful south Louisiana sunset. Click. Ahhh…thank’s buddy.

So yesterday held the last few hours of my 30s and I decided to kick off work a little early and try my luck at shooting photographs of mullet. And no, not the bad hairstyle variety, but the flying fish variety. It seemed like a challenge and I love a good challenge. I found a nice spot out in the marsh and a relaxing pile of dirt from which to sit upon. And I typically try not to get all philosophical as my birthday approaches, but my mind started to wander a tad.

I’ve been “down de bayou” for a little over a year now. I originally planned on being here for only a year to hopefully help a few people and figure out what it is that I want to be when I grow up. And now I’m forty. How the hell did that happen? And am I supposed to be grown up by now? Cause I don’t feel anymore grown up today than I did yesterday, or a year ago, or five years ago, or let’s just be honest, twenty years ago.

So anyway, let’s just say that I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about that “what the heck do I want to be when I grow up” stuff lately. I’ve certainly had a great ride thus far and generally speaking I really enjoy where I am. I’ve got a pretty cool job that certainly beats the heck out of sitting in a gray cubicle every day. If I want to get all officialized…my designated job title is Environmental Outreach Volunteer Coordinator. Geez…doesn’t that sound important? And well, it is pretty darn important when I think about it.

Has it been easy getting to this point? Yes and no. Don’t get me wrong. I absolutely love my job and I one hundred percent absolutely, positively, unequivocally LOVE where I live. But has the last year, two months and change been easy? Well, in a nutshell, no.

You see, I’ve moved to a place that I absolutely adore, but it’s also a place that doesn’t necessarily adore me. I’m an outsider. Always have been and probably always will be. I’m pretty sure I could live here 30 years and still be called a Yankee. Again, don’t get me wrong. I have found some truly amazing people here that I can most certainly call friends, but when it comes to finding some real, “hey I need to sit in a boat, drop a line, have a beer and chat about life” buddies, well that’s been a different story. And yes, I do know myself well enough to admit that I’m not necessarily the easiest person to get to know.

But while bayou folks are extremely friendly, let’s just say that they’re a wee bit quirky. Actually, if I get my psychology hat on, they tend to exhibit a fair amount of paranoia. And probably for good reason. They’ve been promised a whole lot of stuff by a whole lot of people and been let down a whole lot of times. But that doesn’t mean I’m saying that they’re not good people and willing to help a girl out when she needs it. I mean I know if I’m in a jam, there are a bunch of folks that I can call to get me out of it, but just finding someone I can really let it all hang out with has been a challenge. So maybe in one sense the last year and change has been easy, but has it been lonely? Yes, at the end of the day, it has been lonely.

I was talking to a man the other day that I feel I can call friend. He’s a pretty important guy in my book and is a man that I have the utmost respect for. He’s got a whole lot riding on his shoulders. His job entails a great deal of travel and meetings and securing funding and basically all the stuff that I don’t miss about my previous life. I said “Geez, it must be hard to travel all over and sit in all those meetings when you’d probably rather be on a ridge planting marsh grass or paddling around a bayou looking for some fish.” He said “Yes, but I do it so my staff can do what they do best.”

And I thought about the last year and change and started to wonder if that’s kind of what my role is. I may never be truly accepted here, but can I work hard to make a difference in people’s lives and the lives of their children and grandchildren and great grandchildren? Well, I certainly hope so. Do I need them to understand that and give me a pat on the back? Well, it’d be nice, but at the end of the day, no.

From the depths of my soul, what I really want is to just see this place still exist in forty years. I probably won’t be here since I’ve not been all that kind to my body during the previous forty years, but I want someone who loves this place the way I do to be able to sit with a camera on the same bank I sat on last night and try to take pictures of mullet flying through the air and watch ospreys and egrets and herons fly overhead and hear owls hooting in the distance and time how long the diving ducks stay under water looking for something eat.

Do I think that can happen? Well, I sure hope so, but honestly, if things continue the way they are right now, in forty years the bank I sat on last night will probably be under 14 feet of water and the herons and the ospreys and the egrets and the owls and diving ducks won’t have any place to land and maybe saltwater sport fisherman will venture this far down to try their luck, but who the heck knows if there will actually be any fish to catch because maybe this spot will just be part of a big giant dead zone.

Does this make me beyond sad? You bet it does. Do I feel like packing my bags and heading someplace else at times? You bet I do. Do I really want to do that? Hell no!

So what is it that I really want to do? I want to stay where I am and fight to restore and protect the place that I have grown to love for the people I have come to care deeply for.  And if you really want to know the truth, what I really want is to get the President, the head honcho of the Army Corps of Engineers, the head of the EPA, and the few handful of other people that really and truly have the power at their finger tips to change things to go fishing with me in Cocodrie. I want them to hook a big ole bull red or two or three or twelve. I want my good buddy Kevin to cook them a delicious Jambalaya. I want my good buddy Wendy to take them up to the Mauvais Bois to teach them about bayou culture and see the wonders of a cypress swamp. I want them to sit on the deck of a camp, kick back with a few cold ones and watch the ospreys and the egrets and the herons and the owls and the diving ducks and all manner of spectacular wildlife and watch a sunset of orange and red and yellow and purple and blue. I want them to see for their own eyes what I love so dearly. Because, in my heart, I believe that if they could experience for a day what I experience every day, there wouldn’t be any question about the national importance of saving the community I call home (even if the people around here don’t think it’s my home). In fact, if we could make that happen, I feel like I could almost guarantee that we could get our priorities straight and saving this place would become job #1 for the United States instead of sending brave men and women off to their deaths half way around the world in the name of democracy.

I mean, how is it that my community is allowed to slip acre by acre in to the Gulf of Mexico every single day and almost no one in Washington, DC seems to give a damn? I mean, really, how is that possible? Do they just not know? How could they not know? Do they just not care? How could they not care? Do they just think we’re not that important? HOW COULD THEY POSSIBLY BELIEVE THIS? How is it possible that they sit idly by while an entire way of life is being sent to its death in their own backyard?

I mean, come on people. I can spout the figures. My communities, my beloved bayou people, supply 30 percent of the domestic oil and natural gas for the rest of this nation. My communities, my beloved bayou people, supply 30 percent of the domestic seafood on your plates. My communities, my beloved bayou people, operate 10 of the 14 major seaports that serve this nation and the world beyond. My communities, my beloved bayou people, work hard every single day to make this nation what it is. They are dedicated to this country. Why is it that their country is NOT dedicated to them?

I just don’t understand. Could someone out there please explain it to me? Am I just wasting my time? Am I sacrificing that well paying corporate job waiting out in middle America for me to try to save a place that the US government has simply written off? Am I just a fool to think that my friends’ children and grandchildren and great grandchildren can live in and toil in and care for this place that I so love? Yes, I do understand that it’s a “complicated” issue. But is it really? Is it really so complicated that we can’t get those handful of people who said they wanted to be in charge of our well being to sit down and figure it out if we just put our minds to it?

I mean really, Mr. President, sit in the marsh with me, cast a line with me, meet the people I call friends, and tell me to my face that this place and this way of life is not worth saving. Because every day that we as Americans sit by and do not make saving this American treasure a national priority is a day that we pound another nail in the coffin on a place and a people and a culture that is of vital importance to the health and prosperity of the place that I used to be proud to call the United States of America. Please make me proud once again. Please renew my faith. Please give me the audacity to hope for change and a better tomorrow. Please tell me that yes we can save my home so that future generations can call it home.

So I just realized my intention when I started this post was really just to share a few photographs of mullet flying through the air in all their majesty…but maybe we’ll just have to save that for another day my friends cause it’s my birthday and I’m grabbing my new fishing pole to see if I can rustle up some fish for dinner and hope that I don’t accidentally get shot by the folks trying to rustle up some duck for dinner. Thank you to all of my friends and buddies who make restoration and protection a priority in their lives and work tirelessly to make it a priority in the lives of others.

So I was worried that the weather was going to start getting rough and our tiny ships would be tossed, but lady luck was on our side over night. Thank goodness cause I absolutely, positively, did not want to have to don my shrimp boots and grab my shovel to start slinging mud. I’d much rather save that kind of activity for planting marsh plants. Anyway, hope Ida didn’t wreak too much havoc to our friends and neighbors to the east.

So as I mentioned in my previous post, I was pretty excited to have had the opportunity to spend a bit of time with my MiddleSis, my favorite brother-in-law Tom (yep, he’s my only bro-in-law, but definitely my favorite even when he wasn’t the only one) and some pretty darn cool friends in New Orleans last week. I was even more excited that a few of these folks made their way over to Terrebonne for a few adventures on Friday.

Our first stop was at one of the local daycare centers that my co-worker John (aka Papa John) works with through our Project Learn program. Papa John works tirelessly to make sure “his kids” have what they need and does an outstanding job of promoting family literacy by providing computers, books, and every kind of educational material he can get his hands on.

The purpose of our trip to the daycare was to see the outstanding work they’re doing in person and to deliver some very special stuffed animals and books. Kids from First Presbyterian of Plymouth, MI and First Presbyterian of Pontiac, MI spent some time this summer making the cutest stuffed turtles with very special messages tucked carefully inside for their friends in the bayous. The kids enjoyed receiving the turtles, but we had way more fun chatting and playing with the little ones. A big thanks to Papa John, Pam and her outstanding staff for the important work you do for our community.

Keeping a careful eye on my watch, it was time to tear my friends away from their new friends and head on down the bayou for a little lunch at Schmoopy’s. YUM is all I got to say bout that! I wasn’t too sure we’d be able to pull Tom away from the kids however and might have to pick him up on the way back, but we enticed him with the promise of a delicious vegetarian grilled cheese sandwich.

After lunch it was time hook up with Captain Wendy, board the Wetlandtours tooner, and head out on the water. And oh what a beautiful day it was for that. Lows 70s, perfectly sunny, and a nice bayou breeze to keep the bugs at bay.

We saw some bad and ugly…

but thoroughly enjoyed the beautiful…

and got a great education about wetland wildlife, plants, history, and culture.

We also learned a lot about land loss, how we got to this point, how the bayou people are affected by it, and what we can do to fix it. We even had time to relax, explore and chat with some amazing scenery as our backdrop.

And before we knew it, it was time to bid adieu, but we’re definitely looking forward to taking in some more sights on their next trip in March. But if you’re thinking about a trip down the bayou, don’t wait and be sure to give Captain Wendy a shout. Whether you’re looking to take in the sights, try your fishing line, or learn about bayou culture, you won’t be sorry.

And unfortunately, this isn’t exactly the scene I wanted to see on my way back to my home on wheels…

but such is the cycle of life in the Louisiana wetlands.

So a couple of days ago I had the distinct honor of heading over to New Orleans with my good buddy Kevin to help cook up a mess o’ vittles for some amazing folks from Michigan (Go Blue!), and Montana (Go whatever your team is called. Do you even have enough people to play football?), and Pennsylvania (OK, love JoePa, but that’s as far as I can go with that).

These folks have given up a week to come and help victims of Hurricane Katrina rebuild their lives, their communities, and their wonderful city. Some of these great people have done this nine times in the past four years and change in various places from Pearlington, MS to New Orleans to my very own bayou communities south of Houma.

As I got the chance to tour the area and see some of the amazing work they’re doing, I also got to see how much work is still left to do. But it gives me great hope to know that groups such as these are committed to coming back as often as they can to see the job through even when some of their friends and family up north and out west and out east don’t understand that we’re not all better down here yet and won’t be for many years to come.

So as Kevin and I started getting ready to roll up our sleeves and feed some very hungry people, I thought, hey, I’ve never done a cooking post. And if you think you’re going to learn how to cook Shrimp Spaghetti for dinner tonight, well, you’d be wrong. Not that I don’t want to share the recipe, but I doubt most of you are planning family dinner for 50 tonight. But I will give you a little blow by blow action anyway and you can probably figure out how to do this for more normal portions.

So first we gathered up a few ingredients.

Can’t forget the shrimp. And of course, it goes without saying that you need to make sure that’s some pure, wild-caught Louisiana shrimp. Demand the best!

And now to start the roux. OK, I admit, some bayou people look at me in horror when I say that I start my shrimp spaghetti with a roux. Others just nod their heads. Yep, of course you start with a roux. To each his own. The proof is in the pudding so to speak and well, I think this pudding is mighty tasty. I always say, if you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it, but you’ll be sorry.

Now, this roux is not for the limp-wristed. We got three kinds of roux down the bayou–the one, two, and three beer rouxs. But since I was at a Presbyterian Disaster Assistance camp, I had to settle for the three lemonade variety. Some funky music is also helpful, but I left my iPod out in the car and once you start, you can’t stop.

So you basically stir, stir, stir and stir some more until it’s a nice dark brown. And then stir a little longer.

Actually, don’t tell anyone, but this roux really isn’t dark enough, but we were on a tight schedule and I started to panic.

Anyway, while you’re pouring all that love in to your roux, it’s wonderful to have a good buddy around for interesting conversation and to cut up all that delicious andouille sausage.

Alright, time to throw in the trinity. And you bet we cheated. You know how long it takes to chop up enough onion, green pepper, celery, parsley, and garlic for an army?

Alright, after that’s smothered down, throw in some more garlic, some Ro-Tel and that beautiful andouille. But don’t forget your vegetarian friends out there and transfer some of that yummy goodness to another pot before the sausage hits the fire. Why anyone would want to voluntarily deprive themselves of andouille is beyond me, but cest la vie.

Smother that down some more and pour in the sauce. Whole tomatoes are probably better, but I’m just not a big fan of tomato chunks (yeah, it’s just a weird texture thing I got) so y’all are just going to have to live with it.

Now, that roux is going to make it real thick, so add in some water.

Throw in your spices. I’m a big fan of Tony’s, crab boil, and any good Italian seasoning blend. Drop in a few bay leaves and viola. Just let it simmer a good bit.

About 15-20 minutes before dinner, turn up the heat, throw in the shrimp, bring to a quick, low boil, turn off the heat and eat! Oh yeah, don’t forget the spaghetti. And really, don’t trust those “suggested” serving sizes on the package. Double it. And if you’re cooking for a team of folks who’ve been out hammering and mudding and grouting and painting and shingling all day, triple it. Thank goodness for leftover frozen spaghetti in the freezer that we could make quick work of warming up. Live and learn!

And I even got the sister seal of approval which is a big deal since she thinks most of my meals come out of a box. Happy birthday Sue!!! You rock!!!

And yes, hearing my super amazing MiddleSis try to pronounce Tchoupitoulas was wonderful and brought back memories of my first attempt at it!

Hey fellas! Long time no see. How you doing?

Hey baby. Is that a fish in your pouch, or are you just glad to see me?

Oh my gosh! Something just touched my foot! Can’t we just find a nice sit-down buffet someplace?

So Boudreaux and Thibodaux walk in to this bar…Oh man, not this one again.

Rahhhhhhhhhhhh!

Oh no! Tooooo fast! Fore!!!

Whew! I meant to do that the whole time.

Come to papa!

Score!

Now that’s what I’m talkin’ bout, baby!

Come on fellas. Leave some for the rest of us. No one likes a fish hog.

Oh man. Who is that? Great, a Yankee with a camera.

Whoa! That branch is a bit precarious. I need to stop eating those German chocolate brownies every night. Ah, but they’re so good.

Alright, here we go. Click, click, click. Can’t you just leave me alone? I’ve had a busy day and I just want a little me time. Is that too much to much to ask?

OK, time for some intimidation. Look little girl, these talons are razor sharp and I have no qualms about coming down there and gauging your eyes out.

Really, I’m serious. Stop it.

OK little miss I-think-I’m-a-hot-shot-photographer! I have had about e-nough from you. Put that camera away right this second, get back in that truck and head on down the highway.

Do you hear me? That’s it. I am going to count to three. One. Two.

Three. Really, this branch is not safe. How come they don’t make branches down the bayou like they used to?

Fine. Be that way. I’m outta here.

Ha ha ha! You may have gotten skunked, but I did not my sad little Yankee friend!

So as I’ve previously mentioned here, I recently spent a day in the beautiful Shenandoah Valley. And while the scenery was truly magnificent, I must admit that I was feeling a might bit homesick during my stay. Having been on the road for 10 days and 1700 miles at that point, and knowing another 1000 miles lay between me and the bayou, I’ve got to say that I was kind of wishing I could hop on a plane and be done with those traveling blues that I was momentarily suffering from. And as I sat gazing over a mountain so full of orange and red and yellow leafed trees that it appeared as if on fire, I was actually trying to conjure up images of the marsh landscape I was missing so deeply. But as I was about to put myself out of my misery, take a nap and hope for dreams of orange sunsets and red fishes and yellow corks bobbing in calm dark waters, a precious little girl approached and said, “You know there are a lot of fun things to take pictures of around here. Want me to show you?” But of course! How can you resist a private tour by a Shenandoah Valley expert? Let’s go!

Oh yes, that leaf is very pretty. Yes, of course I will take a picture of it.

Oh yes, that rock is very interesting. Yes, of course I will take a picture of it.

Oh yes, that water is very clear. Yes, of course I will take a picture of it.

Oh yes, that bird cage is precious. Yes, of course I will take a picture of it.

Oh yes, that flag is darling. Yes, of course I will take a picture of it.

Oh yes, that birdhouse is very well crafted. Yes, of course I will take a picture of it.

Oh yes, that swing does look very fun. Yes, of course I will take a picture of it.

Oh yes, Hunter does go very fast on that tractor. Yes, of course I will take a picture of him.

Oh yes, that frog does look very slimy. Yes, of course I will take a picture of him.

Oh yes, we should let him go to catch another day. But yes, of course I will take a picture him before he hops away.

Oh yes, that leaf does look like a heart. Yes, of course I will take a picture of it.

Oh yes, my friends, she is too sweet and did steal my heart. Thank you Reese for showing me all of the wonderful things to take pictures of in your world. I never would have noticed them without you as my expert guide.

Never stop exploring my little friend.