View of Elm Street and Main

 From the other side of Elm and Main

                                                    View from Gillespie onto Pecan Street
                                 

                                                           Disaster on Court Street

                                                                Another View

                                             Looks like this tree belonged to Martha Ferguson

                                                   Mary Lou Lott's Old House on Palestine

                                                                     Another View

                                                  Disaster on Gillespie  (near Norwood Circle)

Tropical Storm Isaac blew into town and did its damage.  The worst of the storm passed over us around 3:30 AM this morning, and boy, was the wind howling.  

Lawns

No one mows their own lawn in Raymond - except Martha Ferguson and me.  The lawn business is so lucrative here that someone can make up to 50K a year, just mowing lawns.  I’ve seen countless trailers go by the house with mowers on them.  I don’t even have to look out the window to know they’re passing by.  There are two bumps in the road, in front of the house and each trailer rattles extensively as it passes by.  And the sophistication of the mowers is amazing.  There are lawn mowers that can turn on a dime, and whiz by so fast that you wonder how the driver can hang onto his hat.  Did you know that there are mowers that the driver stands on, and drives like a team of horses?

I lived in California for many years, up in the Santa Cruz Mountains, among the Redwoods.  There are no lawns there, and no one owns a lawn mower.  When I returned to Mississippi, I found myself overwhelmed with the acres and acres of extensive lawns. The Raymond Garden Club even gives out awards each month for the best ones.  I came to the realization that if I was to live here, I also had to have a lawn.  But I wasn’t going to pay someone $40.00, every other week to maintain it.  So my husband, who is a very thoughtful man, bought me my very own gas powered push mower.

This morning, I decided that I just had to mow the lawn before the approaching hurricane came in.  I was expecting company, and I wanted to be sure that the outside of my house was groomed.  Never mind that we were expecting 50 mile an hour winds, and torrential rain.  Heck, company’s comin’.  I had managed to make my way around to the front of the house, and was trying to hurry while in the sun, and then, slowing down in the shade.  Mr. Sun is harsh in the south.  The lawn mower was sputtering, and I was praying that it would run long enough for me to complete the job.  I’m sure I looked like a crazy woman, red faced, and sweating.  Then I heard this voice rise above the engine, saying, “pardon me Ma’am.”  I looked across the street at this nice young man, who was standing by his service truck at the school.  He asked me if I had ever cleaned the air filter on my mower.  I looked at him, smiling, and said absolutely not!  He said it was painful to listen to the engine, and asked if he could clean the filter.  I considered it briefly, and said sure.  One of the perks of being an old lady, is that people want to help you – especially if you’re doing something that isn’t age appropriate.  Never mind that I walk everyday and go to the gym.  Most women my age have already succumbed to osteoporosis, and wouldn’t dream of picking something up that weighed more than 10 pounds. After all, we are all supposed to be southern ladies.

But this nice young man, cleaned the air filter, and when I pulled the cord on the mower, it ignited with a clear, steady hum.  I smiled and thanked him, encouraged that I would be able to finish the lawn in time – just in time for the hurricane to arrive.

Birds in Flight

It took about five years to collect the tree and all the birds, but I finally got to assemble my design.  It's located over the fireplace mantle in one of our rooms.  Each time I gaze up at it, it takes me away, up into the air somewhere.  It reminds me of those flying dreams I had as a child.

Red Glass

Red has always been my favorite color, throughout most of my life. Somewhere in my early 30’s, I began to collect red glass, and with the passing years, I’ve amassed quite a collection. Since I’ve lived many places, most of it was always stored in boxes and never seen. After all these years of schlepping it around, I finally found the right time and place. Now, when I walk through the house, there it is in all its glory. It never fails to cheer me up. My only regret is that I didn’t do it sooner! Here’s a photo of one of the windows.

                                                                    Beauty Berry

                                                                   Evening Primrose

                                                                       Papyrus

                                                           Shady Side of the House

                                                       Another Angle of the Shady Side

                                                     Sunny Side of the House (summer)

                                                    Sunny Side of the House (spring)

Scenes from the Yard

The above photos show my successful ventures in the yard.  I won't mention the beautiful Wild Clematis vine that I killed by accident, as well as the one raised bed in the backyard where I can' seem to grow anything but Oregano.  I had great hopes for an herb garden.  Ah well, there's always next year. 

                                                            On the Road to Learned

                                                                      How Green

                                                                       Downtown

                                                                       Side Street

                                                    Gibbes Store (my neighbor on the porch)

                                                             Side View of Store

                                                                Inside the Store

                                                               Across the Street

                                                        Learned Methodist Church

Learned, Mississippi
Population:  94.  That’s up from 50 in the year 2000. 

Deep in the back roads of nowhere Mississippi, lies a small, beautiful town called Learned (ler-ned). It’s a place I’d like to live. Downtown Learned consists of a general store, Methodist church, and two other old time buildings that are no longer in use. And yes, the store does have a gas pump.  But aside from that, not much has changed in 100 years. The general store is called "H. D. Gibbes & Sons. It opened in 1892. It is built of heart pine, just like my house. Everything that was there in 1892, is still there – even the Gibbs family. The patina on the top shelves of the store is just amazing. They also have a small restaurant inside, and from time to time, my neighbor and I stop by for a plate lunch, just to enjoy the atmosphere. It’s like stepping back in time, when there weren't so many people. Today we had field peas with snap beans, okra, macaroni and cheese, and ham.  I ate every bite.  Oh yes, and corn bread.  The real kind, without all that sugar. After lunch, I took pictures. Each time I visit Learned, I am glad I came.  It’s a beautiful place that I’ll visit again when it calls me. 

Men of Raymond

James Lewis (the town barber), gave me many old photos of Raymond.  Among them were the above men, who are long gone, taking their stories with them.  But it is interesting to speculate how they might have lived their lives.  One thing stands out very clearly, however.  None of these men are fat.  Not even Booster Watts, who apparently was a cook at the cafe. 

I created this Day Lily garden by collecting all the plants from various places in the yard.  It seems that Miss Connie had no rhyme or reason for where she planted them.  Now they look really nice in their own bed. 

Midnight


I took my cat, Midnight, to the vet today because he was losing his hair. The visit didn’t turn out so good, and I don’t think we’ll be welcome back anytime soon.  It seems that once I got Midnight out of the cat carrier in the examination room, he panicked and basically destroyed most everything in the room.  The vet had some really nice artwork on the walls, thoughtfully framed and hung.  It took about 10 seconds for Midnight to remove them all.  I have never seen a cat do some of the things he did. Such agility!  It was amazing how fast and furious things came crashing down as he bounced from wall to wall.  At some point, I went from shock to trying to figure out how to contain him.  I quickly grabbed the cat carrier, flung it open, and whispered to him, making eye contact.  He shot in there like a bullet from off of one of the walls and as I staggered backward, I was able to slam the door behind him. I apologized at least 3 times before leaving the office, but I don’t think the vet was very happy about me, my cat, and all the damage.  As we were going out the door, he raised his voice and said, “the cat has fleas.”  When we arrived back home, I let Midnight out of the carrier and he immediately skulked under the house.  But it didn’t last for long.  I brought out a nice stinky can of cat food and that did the trick. He forgave me.  

The Fern Stitch

I just finished making the above basket. It usually takes me about a week to make one, but I only work on it when I'm watching TV.  Well, I'm not actually watching the TV, since my attention is on the basket, but it's good for background noise.  It's similar to playing guitar while watching TV with the sound off. 

The fern stitch alluded me for many months.  Try as I might, I couldn't join smoothly from one row to another and reading instructions from a book didn't help. I longed for a wise woman basket maker to show me where I was going wrong.  I even emailed Bessie Johnson, who is a renowned basket artist here in Mississippi, but she never replied.  Finally, after stumbling around for way too much time, the light came on.  I think I'll email her again and tell her never mind, don't bother, I figured it out by myself. Yes!

                                                               Before:  Front View

                                                                   Before:  Side View

                                                     After:  Work Still in Progress

Before and After

When I moved to Raymond, in 2007, Bill promised me that we would fix up the house. He had owned it for about 10 years, and was quite happy living in the dining room and kitchen. The rest of the rooms were mostly used for storage  In the past five years, we have managed to bring this old house back to life again and make her into a comfortable, old, southern farm house, and I just love it. 

One area that Bill was not even remotely interested in though, was the yard. He said he liked having the bushes grow up. It made his house more private. From the street, however, it looked like Sleeping Beauty’s slummer home. The briars had grown almost completely around the house, and one of the big oak’s branches was almost to the front door. The Azalea, by the back door, was intent on keeping the screen door closed, and you had to squeeze through to get into the house. One hundred year-old Azaleas are tough customers. I cut it down to the ground  two years ago, and now it’s challenging us for the back door once again.

So with shovels, rakes, saws, and clippers, I set out to tame the wilderness, and sent Sleeping Beauty packing. I’ve learned a lot about landscaping in the past few years – good ideas, and stupid ones as well.  But I am determined to be a good southern gardener, and maybe in a few more years, I’ll have it the way I think it should be. In the meantime, check out my progress. I even found the rest of the front walkway six months ago!

                                                St. Mark's Episcopal Church, Raymond

                                                               The English Garden

                                                       A Place to Meditate in the Garden

I pass this church each morning when I walk, and it has always been very easy on the eyes.  The above photos were taken in the early morning hours when the sprinklers were on.  One day, my walking partner and I got to see the inside, which was just a beautiful, except where you can see the blood stains on the floor from when it was used as a hospital during the Civil War. It's located across the street from the courthouse,  and very much a part of Raymond history. 

                                                                            NUTS

One afternoon, I came home from the thrift store with some Korean theater masks, and found my husband eating mixed nuts.  There was such a variety of textures in the bowl he was using, that I had to put them together to form the above design.               

 

                                                                   We Are Watching

Black Walnuts have always had such pathos about them when they are cracked open.  They remind me of monks or hollow-eyed spirits looking in on life.  And of course, the moon always adds her magic

Fountains in the South

About once a month, I have to clean out the two fountains I have.  One is located on the front porch, and the other is hanging on the back wall of the house.  I keep these as a source of water for most of the animals that live around the neighborhood.  Most mornings, when I go out on the front porch, there are dog tracks, and sometimes raccoon tracks leading to the fountain.  If there’s mud, it’s definitely the coons. One morning I came out to find that someone had actually thrown up in the fountain.  There were two teenagers living here when that happened, but of course, they knew nothing about it. 

The other fountain, in the back, has different customers.  There are lots of anoles that hang out nearby, and it seems to be the preferred drinking source for all the squirrels.  In the underworld of the fountain, those hollow places that are hidden to plain sight, live the tree frogs, specifically, Cope’s Gray Tree Frogs.  In the wintertime, the algae isn’t so bad, and I can usually clean the fountain carefully, allowing the frogs to stay hidden.  However, in the summer, the algae grows at a phenomenal rate, and I am forced to use a small amount of bleach to clear the lines and reclaim its appearance.  Each time I bail out the fountain and remove it from the wall, I search in all those hidden places to remove the frogs, so they won’t be hurt. I even donk it on the ground to jar out whatever is hidden. However, those little bastards always somehow escape my efforts. Never mind that they are cold and clammy to the touch, and I hate sticking my hands in places I can’t see... They just won’t cooperate.  This morning, once again, I discovered a frog in my bleach water.  I took him out quickly and washed him off with the hose, hoping this wasn’t his last bleaching.  It always dismays me since there are so few of them left in the world.  I certainly don’t want to contribute to their demise.  But what is a southern gardener to do? So after the cleaning, I go around and chase after the former occupants and put them back in the fountain till next time.