Shamrocks and muddled thoughts

The past few weeks I feel like I've been running on empty, just getting by on the fumes of my depleted tank.

Today I noticed I lost another follower to my blog...perhaps it's my fault, I haven't been keeping it as updated as I used to, I haven't been hitting the forums...perhaps the follower had a blog of their own and abandon it and with it the blogs they were following...could be they found my blog boring...needs more bead projects?...needs less chatter about me and my little world ? A hundred reasons but whose to say what the real one was or is.

Twice in 2 weeks I've thought about closing my Esty Shop and even putting my blog in moth balls. But there is this never dying optimist in me that always says "hang on" and so I do.

So while I try to sort out my muddled thoughts and feelings I leave you with a touch of sunshine and promises.

Photos above and below...Shamrocks growing wild under the giant oaks near the pond and wetland area of my humble home.

Photo below...huge shamrock leaf. Wonder if I made a wish on it would it come true?

A Bog to Blog About

Our home sits on a plot of land that is almost but not quite 3 acres. Not big enough to be considered an estate , not small enough to be tract housing. At the back of property is a designated wetlands area, there a small creek runs through our lot dividing it. On maps this small creek is called Cow Pen Creek. Exactly who's cow pen ? We don't know, would be nice though..."Houdini's Cow Pen Creek", most appropriate for our bouts of scant then ample rain fall; now you see it, now you don't !

Deep in this more secluded wetlands is a small pond and, amazingly, a cornucopia of discoveries and delights. The other day I came across yet another mystery plant, again have no idea what it is, have never seen anything like it before.

Gene, our son-in-law, runs a lawn and yard maintenance service and is also a "Cracker" which is a colloquialism for a native Floridian, one born and raised in Florida. Cracker refers back to the days when Florida cowboys used long bull whips that were snapped violently, producing an ear splitting 'crack'. Usually the loud crack of the whip was sufficient to keep their herd of steer heading in the right direction. We thought with Gene's background, there was a good chance he would know what the plant was, but he looked at it, shrugged and called it a weed. Perhaps it is just a weed , however I love the little snowball flowers, obviously so do a species of little black shield bugs or beetles, as they were all over the plant, the bugs I could do without.


Usually plants that attract such bugs would have an offensive odor, not the case here, the blooms have a faintly sweet, pleasant scent and they do look rather pretty in a bouquet.






Photo below shows a bloom just before all the individual blossoms open.

A Drying, Dying Wetland...

I am being extremely naughty and ignoring my Etsy shop...have ignored it for several days now, but then it’s not been doing anything, no sales, no genuine public interest, so it’s not like I’ve turned my back on a thriving enterprise.

Today is the 1st of May but here, in my little part of South Florida, it feels like full blown summer. For the past few days the temps have reached into the upper 90’s with extremely low humidity, unheard of here. Each time I exit the car and shut the door I experience the sharp shock of static electricity, something I'd expect if I were in Southern California or New Mexico.



Yesterday I explored some of the less visited areas of our property, a wetlands area sheltered by massive live oak and adorned with natures ferns and wildflowers. In the midst of all this lush greenery a pond once existed, protected from the rays of the sun it was a cool, quiet retreat. But drought like conditions, constant winds and unrelenting heat have turned our pond into a mere mud hole...and even that is quickly drying out.


above: wetland ferns encircling dry pond bed.

These photos were taken in what was once the pond...not long ago I would have gotten my feet quite wet standing here to take these snapshots. I pray that this rainy season will bring sufficient rains but then I can't help but fear perhaps mankind has so altered our climate that wetlands such as this, will become a distant whisper, a faint echo of what used to be.