Watershed

                I woke up this morning to the sound of rain falling on our tin roof. The precipitation had been predicted and was needed because it has been a week of more without any and things were beginning to get dry. The rain hits our roof and follows a labyrinthine path through assorted gutters and downspouts before it reaches the ground. The house is a compilation of two separately built structures, one old one and a new addition. They fit together in a very interesting but complicated way. It is convoluted because of the way it had to be configured in order to actually work and deliver water away from the foundation, which it sometimes does. What it causes when it rains is a cacophony of sounds as the water races down the roof into an assortment of metal gutters switching back and forth before it goes into the plastic drainage pipes underground and on toward the creek. Dripping rain from the top most roof falls to the second story, into the surrounding gutters, through numerous leaks, splattering and making noise and so on. The sound is more noticeable when you are lying in the dark stillness of your bed sleeping in silence in the night and early morning before the world wakes up, before the animals stir. We have lots of water to deal with here on a normal dry day but much more when it rains.

                This morning after coffee I walked up to the larger trout pond to make sure it was draining according to design. It was. The falling rain was dimpling the surface and making concentric rings within rings across the normally placid face of the pond. Reflecting the early morning light in a multitude of facets, it really is quite beautiful when you stand there and watch the falling rain fracture the level surface of the pond’s face reflecting the surrounding trees. It becomes an amazing abstract painting filled with lines, forms, textures and movements. Of course you have to stand there in the downpour to see the myriad attraction it offers. The orange, golden, silver, black and white spotted koi dart back and forth just beneath the surface watching for the possibility of a food morsel mixed in with the influx of detritus. A tiny succulent worm or beetle often gets wiped from the needles and leaves of the surrounding trees and shrubs resulting in an unexpected repast for the hungry fish. They are basically vegetarian but will accept a bit of protein if it is available. In the rain all things above the pond, which is an inclined forested plane going up to the top of the mountain till it reaches the national forest, contains many types of vegetable and animal matter that is flushed down the mountain by the precipitation and gravity.

                The watershed above the pond releases a great deal of debris, much of it edible. Microscopic organisms still dormant, hiding beneath last fall’s decomposing leaf litter along with any and everything else eventually winds up washing down the hill, passing under the small driveway through a metal culvert to end up in the koi pond. There it settles with much of it sinking to the bottom making the depth of the depression shallower with each passing year. The floating material continues to the overflow and passes along on the way to Big Creek, the Toccoa River and Lake Blue Ridge. Whatever comes down the mountain becomes a food choice for the ravenous koi when it is swept into their receiving pond. There are yellow bellied water snakes living in the pond competing with the koi for sustenance and I am certain occasionally feed on the smaller fish as well. You almost never see the snaky interlopers but I know they are there because if you build a water feature they will come, along with tadpoles, frogs, salamanders, crayfish, great blue herons, kingfishers and so much more! The pond has been here since 1976 and has changed in various ways after all this time. When first built the depth of the water came up to my clavicle but now it is only navel deep, quite a diminishment in depth. Someday, I am sure I will have to have a backhoe come in and return the pond to its original profundity but that involves so much botanical destruction and expense that I will delay it for as long as I can.

                When we first bought this place in 1974 our plumbing was, to say the least sort of primitive. When you turned on the cold water spigot in the kitchen or bathroom it was not unusual for a small dark spotted salamander to come slithering out of the faucet, looking exactly as though he was made of brown glistening water, which is probably not far off. The plumbing and electrical wiring in the old cabin was installed after we purchased the place and was never quite up to standards, not that we cared. It was a place of almost constant pleasure, awe and excitement. In the early years we worked ourselves to death with so much that had to be done on our short week end visits but we managed. In those days I dreamed of the time when I would be retired and have a weed less garden and yard; it seemed like an achievable goal back when I was still young and foolish.  That time has come and gone and after much reflection I have determined that weed less gardens are things to be dreamed of, seen on television and in gardening catalogs, certainly not a realistic goal for a man my age.

tbd

                                                                A Walk Before Dusk

 Linda and I walk down our dirt road most afternoons just before dusk here at Big Creek. Today it was threatening to rain, or sleet, or snow but we walked anyway. We have done this for 40 years as of this fall. It is hard to believe that much time has passed since we bought this place. We walked this road before we owned our first house in Jonesboro, before we had children and before all the aunts, uncles, grandparents and most of the generation of relatives my parent’s age died. I still miss them. We walked this road when we were very young, when we were strong and vigorous. We walked this road when we still held hands and walked, hip to hip. We heard somewhere that walking a mile a day would improve your disposition, circulation, and general overall health. I believe it has even though you hear all the time about marathon runners and exercise enthusiasts dropping dead while plying their craft. Still we walk.

 The section of Big Creek Road we walk is right at three fourths of a mile each way, an easy walk through poplar, hemlocks, birch and innumerable other trees, all of whom are still fast asleep here in March, dormant with grey lichen covered bark beckoning through the sleeping forest. We are still walking it most every day, for a total of one and a half miles. This time of year the tiny buds on the trees and shrubs are just beginning to puff and swell with the stored energy of last year’s rain and nutrients. You can detect a pale shade of green in the depth of the pubescent buds if you look very closely, or maybe that is just my imagination. The section of road we walk follows the luminous creek near enough that you can throw a rock at any point and it will land in the water, depending on how well you throw. When we started walking this road it was common to see rainbow trout darting around in the creek between rocks and downed branches but not so much anymore. Sometimes we walk it in the fog of early mornings when the king fishers making their raspy cry are soaring just above the creek flashing in and out between the low hanging branches looking for the unsuspecting fish for breakfast. Our children learned to walk on Big Creek Road when they were toddlers, small bundles of joy that thrilled us with each new accomplishment. They walked this road as boys and young men, with friends that came up for the weekends. They walked this road holding hands with beautiful young girls from high school and college that also came to visit. The smell of honey from a wild bee hive hidden in the dark cavity of a half rotten tree always made our mouths water with pavlovian regularity as we walked past a certain spot, a gentle curve in the road.

 We raised many dogs on this road where they learned to walk with us and run on the dirt and rocks of Big Creek Road, dancing and splashing in and out of the adjacent creek where they also learned to swim. They raced up and down the mountain sides, crashing their way through the stream racing each other and chasing feral cats and squirrels with great enthusiasm. They were little balls of fur, clumsy, spotted, downy, some with crystal blue eyes, most with big feet and all with infectious enthusiasm and early on that incredible puppy breath that made you love them so much. We walked on this road when they grew old and their bodies quit efficiently working and they limped from exhausted hips and hobbled walking, sometimes with great difficulty and often with our assistance. Today on our walk we thought we heard a car or truck coming, a rumbling and grinding. We immediately started gathering the dogs in order to protect and control them and keep them safe from the passing traffic but there was no vehicle, no airplanes, nothing. The dogs often go berserk when a vehicle approaches and their lives are in jeopardy at times but that's a relatively small price to pay for freedom! Maybe the sound was an airplane going over we thought, but no. It was most likely a large moss covered bolder in the deeper parts of the creek rolling over from the insistent repetitive push of the water making a small muffled submerged groan as it rearranged the adjacent rocks. It was a tiny aquatic upheaval!

 Today no cars passed on our mile and a half walk. Can you believe that in this day and age? There is still someplace in the world where you can walk a mile and a half and see no one and pass no cars and have no cars pass you? The only traffic in sight on the road was two senior citizens and three excited dogs.

                                                                                                 tbd

Mardi Gras in Ellijay?

      The sun is shining this morning, the temperature is 32 degrees and it is a beautiful day. Last night we went out for a Mardi Gras celebration dinner at the Cajun Depot in Ellijay. The shrimp I ordered were fried to perfection and delicious. The Cole slaw was wonderful (but scanty) and the French fries were almost inedible. After asking the waitress to make sure the chef knew I wanted them browned and crispy they came out limp, pale, way too greasy and anything but what I had ordered or wanted. I really could not eat them and left most on the plate. At first I thought I might bring them home in a doggie bag for Moose, Brownie and J.D.(my dogs) but thought better about it and left them there at the restaurant on the table as some small, silent protest.

      The wait for dinner was really very long and the people, for the most part who were there dining when we arrived at 5:00 were still there, still eating , drinking, having dessert or talking after an hour or more as we stood waiting and enviously watching. There was no place to sit down as the few chairs available were filled with other waiting customers. My suggestion to Cajun Depot would be to add more space somewhere, like enclosing the front porch, putting in a bar that would offer the hungry patrons a place to sit, drink and have a pleasant experience while waiting to be served. This would improve the overall experience and ambiance. Instead of having patrons stand in the drafty doorway being constantly bumped, prodded and gently persuaded out of the way by waitresses as they pushed their way past, they could have a drink in a more relaxed, comfortable situation. Having to consume an entire bottle of wine (a nice Pinot Grigio for $20.00) on our feet (like a bunch of cattle coming up for slaughter) is not conducive to a pleasant dining experience. The waiting time would be more pleasant and impatient customers would not be tempted to start fights with the seated customers who are busy eating and talking, laughing and turning a meal out into a party that drags on and on into the night while other hungry people standing up wait and wait, and wait!

      The restaurant is situated in a very small space and the noise reverberates around rather badly. In addition to the ambient noise natural in all restaurants the Cajun music was too loud and with the customers talking over the music, conversation was difficult if not impossible. The servers were competent and pleasant but a little uninformed as to the prices of the wine and beer. Decorations were over the top, along with the attractive waitresses, who looked as though they had been hit by an eye makeup tsunami. It was however, a celebration of Mardi Gras, so what else would you expect?

      All in all the dining experience should be about fun, fellowship and excellent food that you did not have to prepare yourself. If any of these elements are missing there is a problem and if left unresolved business will invariably suffer. My recommendation for dining at the Cajun Depot would be to go there for lunch or dinner on any night other than when Mardi Gras is being celebrated. However if you like being bumped and pushed, standing up while you imbibe too much alcohol, listening to loud music and louder people talk and laugh, women with too much make up on, go to the Cajun Depot for Mardi Gras or even better go to New Orleans for the real thing.

      Of course I will go back to the Cajun Depot. After all in Ellijay dining out options are some what limited. Certainly we have plenty of "all you can eat" places like the Hot and Cold Asian trough near Walmart as well as others. I never feel as though I get my money's worth at those places because I invariably watch the other diners plates at they leave the line and am usually appalled at the amount of food on their plates. It looks like mount St. Helens ready to blow! I just can't eat that much food at one time and consistently feel cheated. If I owned an all you can eat buffet, when you walked into the front door you would get weighed, of course you would have to be naked because otherwise people would secret weights in their clothing when they came in and jettison the load under the table or in the potted plants, for obvious reasons. When you left again you would have to get on the scales once more and be charged according to how many pounds you had gained. Going to the bathroom during the interim would be strictly forbidden! There would be a siren with flashing lights for anyone who imbibed the most food on any given occasion, like in Las Vegas when one wins the jack pot. A hall of fame wall with photos of the recipients who won the dubious honor of the biggest eater and placed in a noticeable spot at the entrance of the restaurant. HA, ha, ha, ha, ha ha and ha!

As much as I resent having dinner too early, next Mardi Gras I will be there for at 4:oo pm and be one of the seated people talking loud, eating sumptuous food and turning a dinner out into a party at the expense of other people waiting to be seated. 

                                                                                                                                                              tbd

A Noise in the Night

                       Last night about 9:59 I was passing through the kitchen headed for the bedroom when I heard a suspicious noise coming from the side porch. Often the dogs or maybe the cats make sounds that garner my attention but this sound was different. It was a repetitive bump that had sort of a rhythm to it and yet I knew it was not the sound a machine makes, too irregular. It was not the washing machine or perhaps the dryer which had an imbalanced load banging away in the washroom that needed adjusting.  This sound was definitely coming from outside the house. Luckily the flashlight was nearby so I grabbed it and walked to the kitchen door. Peering out into the darkness of the night with the aid of the flashlight I saw two beautiful, winter coated raccoons hanging from the bird feeder by their Front feet and precariously balanced on the porch rail with the toes of their back feet barely touching the rail. They were slipping on and off, banging the bird feeder against the upright beam that supports the roof. Well at least it was not an ax murdered or a bear and I was thankful for that but raccoons are really not welcome at the feeder. They are way too messy and destructive. It's not that they eat all the bird seed which they do. They in their desperation for food tear down the feeder down and take it to the ground where they determinedly dismantle the entire thing. It takes nails, screws, glue, duct tape and an hour and a half to reassemble it again the next day.

                      I woke Moose up from in front of the television and rushed him to the back door. When he saw the Raccoons he became hysterical and began to lunge at the door which made it almost impossible to open with him trying to dig his way directly through the glass to the Raccoons. Realizing that Moose was not going to be that much help I pulled him back into the sunroom in order to put him outside. He went out gladly and quickly. He then raced around the house to intercept the raccoons after I opened the kitchen door and raced out with a broom to frighten them away. There was quite a commotion in the darkness of the side yard which I could not see but needless to say the ultimate outcome of the confrontation was the two raccoons wound up high in a nearby hemlock tree and stayed there long after we went to bed. Before I finally went to sleep I went out to check on Moose and the Raccoons. High up in the tree four round glowing silver eyes peered downward  looking curiously at Moose and me neither of us willing to climb the tree and cast them down. This morning I noticed Moose walking frequently past the hemlock and casually glancing up into the tall tree as though he expected to see the uninvited guests hanging from the branches. They were long gone but I am quite sure we will see them again tonight.

 tbd

We Have no Raccoons Today

            No raccoons were at the bird feeder this morning or last night. I guess the squirrels frightened them off because this morning when I looked out there were two fat rapacious ones eating their fill of black sunflower seeds that I recently purchased at Tractor Supply. Years ago the squirrels found every bird feeder we put up and immediately ate almost all the seeds. What they didn’t eat they scattered all around the yard beneath the feeder. It took them maybe seven minutes from the time we hung the feeders up around the house and outside the back door before they were hanging all over them greedily wolfing down the treats. It is as though they are lying in wait, lazily lounging in the branches, carefully eyeing us and waiting for the food to be put out. If you have ever seen sharks during a feeding frenzy, that is how it looked, except of course they are squirrels. 

            Before we moved up to Big Creek full time we kept bird feeders in numerous locations around the yard and house near the windows so we could observe the multitude of visitors that came to help themselves to the seeds. I always filled the feeders before we left to go home on Sunday afternoons so there would be food available into the following week for the birds. In order to outwit the squirrely little interlopers I kept the bag of extra seeds on the front screened in porch knowing that squirrels are pretty smart and had full run of the place when we were away in Jonesboro. We sometimes stayed in Clayton County for two weeks or more before returning to the cabin. I secreted the seeds in a covered basket so they could not be seen by the squirrels and felt confident that they would be there when we returned.

            When we came back after a week or two away I went out to check on the feeders and to replenish them with seeds. Much to my surprise the basket was empty of seeds and the plastic bag that held them had been turned into pea sized confetti blowing around the porch. Looking closer I realized that there was a squirrel sized hole through the screen wire about seven inches above the wooden lattice. Upon further inspection I found a second hole where the squirrel had gnawed an exit hole through the screen wire to make his escape. Apparently the furry critter was not as smart as I thought chewing two separate holes through metal wire when he really needed only one. Still I have to admit that since the squirrel wound up eating the entire bag of seeds and had accomplished his escape he proved that between the two of us he was the smarter. The only comfort I derived was the wear and tear on his teeth. But no! As I found out later, squirrels have teeth that are replenished from the root of the tooth for his entire life. That means that no matter how many times he chewed through my screen wire his teeth would be shortly replaced from underneath like beavers, ground hogs, rats and other rodents. This makes perfect sense because when you eat trees, like beavers you have to maintain healthy strong teeth. When you eat holes through wood, like rats and mice, you too have to have teeth that when damaged are soon replaced.

            Contemplating this dilemma over the years I have decided that if only modern researchers could isolate the gene that enables squirrels and other rodents to re-grow teeth as needed for their lifetime, splice that gene into the human genome, wow, can you imagine? Teeth that are replaced as needed without the aid of a dentist. So what if you get into a fight and get a broken tooth? No big deal as it will grow back on its own. So, I know what you are thinking, “What would be the side effects?” Well, for replaceable teeth I for one could live with a luxuriant coat of hair, beautiful brown eyes and maybe even a bushy tail, especially in winter.

tbd