A Possible Major Gas Leek Next Spring

It's been awhile since my last post as I really haven't had much to share. Cappy is presently on his way down the Mississippi, wayyyyy to the bottom of it, to pick up another load of crude oil. We're, like everyone else, glad to see the cost of gasoline going back down. That will help on our 'pit stops', on our drive to western NY in a couple weeks. Actually, the date of our departure, of neccesity has been pushed back five days, so our trip is going to be cut very short. DarnDarnDarn. So, to make up for the lost time, I'm campaigning for a trip in the Spring for the Ham and Leek festival. Leeks, which are nothing at all like the big version found in most every supermarket, and are, in other parts of the country called 'ramps'. I never knew that until I started "Googling" to learn when the festival would be held.

Leeks, (ramps) are amazing. At first glance they might look like green onions, but then they have these dark green 'bunny rabbit ear' leaves. The taste and smell are very pungent and like nothing else. They are found in swampy areas and there's only a small window of time that they are found; most always in May.

Some of my earliest memories are of my Dad loading bushel baskets and his...not sure the name of the tool, but it was kind of like a pitchfork, but not, into the trunk of the car. The handle was half the length of a pitchfork's, and the tines were much thicker. The handle also had a...hmmm...a handle, on the end, that you could grab to get a better hold. He'd also pack a galvanized pail, and my Mom or Grandmother would pack a loaf of bread, a stick of margarine, and a butter-knife, some lawn chairs and off we'd go. My Dad had a favorite spot down by the "Indian reservation", along the Alleghany River. Dad would drive as far into the swampy area, as he dared, not wanting the tires to get bogged down, so's we'd get stuck. The first thing, before we even set foot out of the car, we kids were always warned to stay away from the skunk cabbage, because it's poison. While my Mom or Grandma sat and drank in the quiet of the area and watched Dad, as he scouted for the best batch of leeks, we kids ran around picking up stuff we thought was interesting, like feathers or sticks...'stuff', or just ran around pretending we were playing cowboys and Indians. "Aw-wite Bwackie, Weach fo' da Sky!!" (One of our favorite lines from some tv show.) Sometimes we'd 'help' look for patches of leeks, and Dad reminded us not to be fooled by leaves that had the same shape as the leeks, but they had mottled purple areas all over them, not pure dark green, and they may or may not have been poison as well.

Dad would dig up a patch of the leek onions, and wash them off in the pail of water, he had gotten from the river, then hand them to Grandma, who would then, clean them off even more, 'butter' slices of bread and stuff a layer of the raw leeks onto them, making the most luscious sandwiches. We'd eat them on the spot. It was our lunch. Omigosh they were good! People up there in western NY...my kin, still do that to this day, every year.

One thing, tho. We had to make sure this was done on a Saturday, or even Friday night, because if we kids ate them on a school night, then tried to go to school the next day, we'd be sent home. It was school policy. Leeks are that strong and 'stinky', but they are soooooo good. We never got sent home from school for that, but every once in awhile we'd hear through the 'grapevine' that "so and so's kid got sent home today because he ate leeks". It was almost told in hushed tones, as though it were a major social faux pas, and the parents might, from then on, be looked upon with one raised eyebrow; "How could they let their kid do that??"

Back at the swamp...When Dad had a few bushel baskets loaded to the gill, full of leeks, we'd head back home. Usually that night we'd have boiled ham and leeks with potatoes all cooked in the same pot, with a few raw leeks cleaned and 'trimmed' and standing all purdy in a glass of water in the middle of the supper table, for anyone who'd want another dose of them that way. When leeks are cooked, they take on a more mild flavor, but again, sooooo delicious. And as I remember, if we had cooked leeks, we could still go to school the next day.

Mom and Grandma would can leeks, too, and we had a family member who pickled them. Now that was another way to really enjoy them.

Needless to say, I haven't had them in at least eight years and I surely do miss them. That's why I'm 'campaigning' to go up this Spring to Franklinville, in western NY for their annual festival. Cappy has heard me talking and talking and talking about them, but has never tasted one yet. One thing I neglected to mention; leeks are a 'Spring tonic', and as I recall, a purgative as such. It should be an interesting long ride back home here, to South Louisiana, fraught with a lot of pit stops, but well worth the trip. And there's probably going to be an advantage to having nice fresh Spring air blowing in through the widely opened SUV windows.

My Favorite Things...(sing along with me)

Raindrops on bayous and whiskers on Cappy,
Bright, sincere smiles and chick-flicks that are sappy,
Brown chicken stewing in Gumbo with rice.
These are my favorite things that are nice.

Dreamy white clouds in an azure blue sky,
Writing our Blog posts, and stuff that we buy,
Laughing and sneezing, as we blend our spice,
These are my favorite things that are nice.

Visiting family and giving them hugs,
Dancing with Cappy and filling his mugs,
Practical jokes are my one special vice.
These are my favorite things that are nice.

When the news bites,
When the world stinks,
When I'm fuming mad,
I try to forget it and do something else,
And then I don't feel so had.

Curlie white Bichons, and no they're not poodles,
UPS truck bringing kit-and-kaboodle,
Sugar cane burning, the smell is so nice,
But here come the cockroaches~~~
Here come the mice!

When the toilet takes the cockroach,
When I hear the mouse TRAP!!!!
I think of those people I'd like to see there,
And then I don't feel so had......
And thennn I don't feel sooooooo baaaaaaad.

My Choice for Resident of the United States of America

Good old salt of the earth, Cappy. When he was off the boat the last time we were run, fun, running around. Because he wouldn't be home today to be able to go vote, we voted on October 21, so we got that done. Now, we just wait, with everyone else, on pins and needles, to see who will take over the country.
One of the things Cappy wanted to make sure we accomplished before he went back out on the boat, was to plant our little square foot garden. As you can see, we did it once again, "planted the back 48"...(square feet). As usual, we had help, in the form of two white curlie Bichons. SparkyBear is always Cappy's right hand 'little man', supervising, having his nose in everything we are doing.

We planted green onions, carrots, snow peas,beets, radishes and a bed of salad greens. MarkyBear told SparkyBear, "Tell him to plant asparagus".

I guess this Blog posting will be a little rushed, as I'm kind of distracted. I've got a lot going on, in that I have to have this year's Christmas cards completed in the next few weeks, ready to mail before we leave for western NY on the 27th. I'm also in the throes of our kitchen redesign and entails working with the coordination of carpenters, plumbers, cabinet builders, electricians, and salesmen for the new stuff. Thennnnn, there's still the matter of trying to FINALLY complete the shopping and wrapping gifts for Christmas to take north...it's taken me longer than I had anticipated. Then, the usual; same as with you, the "heartache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to". Stuff that happens.

Soooo, this individual resident of the United States of America, who dutifully cast her 1 (ONE) and only vote, will, with one eye on the news, get back to what she was a doin'.

(Oh, and guess who showed up at my door the other night? A John Wayne impersonator, wearing what I should be wearing when I deal with all these guys whom I'm trying to deal with about the house,...and his little sidekick. When the doorbell rang, the dogs exploded, barking the paint off the door, especially because they saw this shiney, evil little face smack up against the door window, leering in at them. The dogs thought it was downright WRONG and it took every bit of my strength to keep them from getting outa the crack in the door and taking a bite outa 'crime', while I tried to hand these perpetrators their candy.)

One last thing, fellow voters...think about this from both sides...I've said it before and I'm going to repeat it here: Once the country goes Barack, it can never go back. (I'm not on a soapbox...I'm on a tightrope) I'll try to lighten up tomorrow...EITHER way: The sun will come out TO-MORROWWWWW, Betcher Bottom Dollar That To-morrowwwwwww, there'll be SUNNNNNNNNNNN <:-/

The Ghost of O.G. Track Road

While runnin' from da 'Storm' last month, Peggy, tryin' to escape traffic, and trusting a map, 'stead of askin' me, turned onto the old "O.G. Track Road" in St. Landry Parish, tryin' to get to highway 71. Well, this 'shortcut' turned into a 'long-cut', and she had to backtrack, regroup and start over. I hadn't thought of the old train track in years. It is a place from my youth, back when times were simpler and I was a kid. Here's da story:

I heard it since I was a kid; "The legend of the ghost of the O.G. Track". Mama and her family lived there some years ago, and Grandpa share-cropped a patch of land off the tracks. Mama loved the trains as they steamed by, puffin' lil white clouds as the piston pumped da wheels around. It was a steam engine with it's often imitated, never duplicted steam whistle. The engineer yusta throw bags of candy and fruit to Mama and her brothers and sisters, as they stood on the side of the tracks, pumping their elbows to get the whistle to blow. Years later, Mama taught me how to place straight pins on da tracks and let the train wheels press 'em into lil pairs of 'scissors', or how to smash a penny under the wheels of da train to make a guitar pick. (Mama was an unbelievable guitar picker.)

Anyways,...Mama told us the story of the 'ghost', and all of her brothers and sisters backed the story up. It seems that a lady was driving home one night with her young child in the car, when they stalled on the tracks and got hit by the train. The child was said to have been thrown clear and lived. The mother was said to have died in the crash. After this happened, reports of a ghost started circulating around town and it wasn't long 'til Mama's family heard about it. The 'Ghost of the O.G. Track' was said to be shining white, resembling a woman, and float above the track, gliding along mournfully looking for her child.

Years went by, the lil train went outa business, the whistle fell silent, they took up the tracks and left a gravel road in their place. The road follows the old track line, eventually dying out at the bayou where the old train bridge was. The bridge was removed, leaving just a row of pylons marching silently across the bayou to the other side.
When I came along, the tracks were just a memory, but the dead-end gravel road made our family's secret picnic spot. I remember many wonderful weinie roastin', campfire singin', marshmallow roastin', bbqin' good times at the old bridge crossing. It was like our own private lil park. Some of my earliest memories of my Dad are of him standing on the bank of Bayou Courtableau, casting a top-water popping 'bug' at the pylons with his fly rod. It was magic for a small boy, of somewhere 'tween 4 and 7 to see dat 'bug' float back and forth in a whip-like motion, landing inches from the pylons, and "pluck-pluck, float" and repeat 'til a Bass made the water explode around the bait, as it sucked up dat 'bug'. We always left the campsite and headed back down the dusty ole road before dark, to avoid the skeeters, but for a young lad; we were leavin', so the ghost wouldn't git us. In case I would forget this, I was retold the scary story from the front seat of the ole jet-black '57 Chevy, (with a bright cherry-red interior), as we rattled our way down the ole dusty road towards home, on many Sunday picnic afternoons. That ol' Chevy was Daddy's pride and joy. He bought it "cash on the barrel-head" with his back pay, when he cycled out of the Navy.

Flash forwards a few years. I was like 10 or 12, before I was old enough to be invited to go on midnight rabbit hunts with some of my older cousins and uncles. (I was prolly 16 or so 'fore I found out you could even hunt rabbits in the daylight; and muchless, that was da legal way.)
Well, one night they picked me up in Uncle Jessie's ole step-sided pickup, and sure enough, you guessed it.....they headed right down the O.G. Track Road, with us kids perched on the hood and on top of the truck cab, with high beams on. Dat ole truck bristled with guns like one of Mama's pin cushions. I warned 'em 'bout da ghost, but they kept goin', and long 'fore we reached the end of the track road, we had like a dozen or so nice big rabbits in the bed of da ole truck. We stopped at the end of the road; the beer drinkin'-age cousins all hadda pee. (Yup, beer drinking, and heavily armed, night huntin' Cajuns...it's a miricle I'm here to tell this story.) We loaded up for the return trip, keepin' da rabbits company in the back. Uncle Jessie turned da ole truck around and headed back down the dark ole dusty road. About halfway back, as we slowly rounded da only curve on da road, Uncle Jessie stopped da truck and quietly said through where the back window aughta had been, "Look boys, I tink it is da ghost".
Did they set me up? Who knows. Was it some elaborate plot to scare da Jesus outa a kid? Maybe. They won't tell, and I'll never know, but there she was!! White, shining, floating above the road in the headlights...and 'kinda out of focus' is the best way I could describe her.
I screamed like a girl, the other cousins chiming in, and Unc 'floored' da ole truck. Smoke and dust erupted, gravel showered out behind the truck, as the old bald Maypop tires fought to get traction, and my crazy uncle headed da truck with all of us in it straight for da ghost! Me and da boys dove for cover among the bloody rabbits and assorted clutter of the spilled contents of a rusty ol' paint can that had been full of hunting tackle. I seem to remember the white figure of the ghost passing over the truck as we sped down the bumpy ole wash-board gravel road. The memory fades over time, das why I'm tellin' it now, but one thing remains certain; we hadda clean lots more than rabbit blood outa da back of dat ole truck when we got home.

Diana's Passing

Diana, our daughter-in-law passed away yesterday in her sleep. She's the mother of our granddaughter, Cierra and was only 38 years old. She had gone to the doctor on Monday and was scheduled for tests yesterday, but alas the schedule for tests had come too late. Presently it appears to have been some kind of kidney failure, but results are pending. Although she and our son, Thom had been estranged for a few years, it's obvious, talking with him, that his love for her never waned, and he's taking her passing with much grief. Love can be like that sometimes; despite vast chasms, it can still abide.
Diana had a quick wit, a good sense of humor, and tried to do the best she could, even in trying situations. She was gentle and gracious, bringing laughter to the folks in the nursing home, where she worked. It's all such a sudden shock, and words presently escape us. Prayers for the family would be greatly appreciated. Thank you.
I just learned that Diana actually died of a heart attack. That's so young. Because of the proverbial 'circumstances beyond my control' just now, I won't be able to travel to western NY to attend her memorial services this coming Monday, but will do as much as we can from here. When we go up north this next coming month, Cappy and I & the dogs, we will get together with Cierra, who is living with Diana's sister, Betty and her husband in South Carolina. Cierra's six years old, and an only child. These circumstances are always just awful and very confusing. I can't imagine how it must be for our little granddaughter. Despite all this, we know that children are resiliant, and she seems to be doing well just now. Her mother can rest now, knowing that both families will be doing the best they know how, for her little girl.
Rest peacefully, Diana, and know that before you even expect it, your family and loved ones will be joining you, one by one, as you joined those who have been waiting, There, to welcome you home, Dear Heart.

Ab-Lounging Cappy Style

While rooting through our picture/video files, I came across this lil video that Peggy took way last Spring while my sister's family and we were recouping from Easter Dinner. With a belly full of fried turkey and all the trimmings I'm afraid that this is all the exercise that I could muster. (My niece, Blythe and I engaged in a lil competition.)

Half-Time Celebration

Well, what with the hustle and bustle of the jambalaya preparation, cooking, and cleanup, combined with a trip to New Orleans with a friend, my first week off flew by in a happy blur. Peggy and I never really had the chance to relax, unwind and just 'chill'. What with one more week to go, Peggy and I decided to celebrate 'half-time'. It may be hard for our regular readers to believe, but we went a whole week before we fired up da pit. We finally got the chance to kick back and BBQ yesterday, so da dawgs and myself assumed our patio lounging position and Peggy took some pictures of the 'festivities'. The night before, I had injected a pork roast with our seasoning, butter and beer and let it sit in the fridge over night. In the morning, while I got da pit ready, Peggy coated the roast in our spice and brown sugar. It wasn't long 'til da Blues were blaring from the outside speakers and the down-wind neighbors' mouths were watering, as we smoked up da place. The roast smoked away for almost 7 hours with "Pourky da Pig" standing by, to put out any flame ups. After the roast was almost done we put a couple taters to bake in da smoky pit and I fixed one of our favorite appetizers;smoked asparagus. I have been tellin' folks that my smoked asparagus are soooo good even the dogs love them. I know it's hard to believe, so this time Peggy made a lil video documenting the fact. It was really nice to spend a relaxing evening with Peggy and the dogs doing one of our favorite things. Laughing, dancing, BBQin', bluesy kinda laid back day just reveling in each others company.

Our Town's Forum Gathering of Friends, Food & Fun

This morning two trucks, four guys showed up to put a new water heater in our attic, and right away I started apologizing for the disarray, mentioning that we were still recovering from the weekend. One of the guys reminded me that it was Wednesday. (Wednesday?! Already??) Ever since Cappy 'hit da bank' we've been running and running. Yesterday we went to New Orleans, did a tiny bit of shopping in the French Market, which, in our opinion, is just not ready for tourists yet, let alone serious local shopping. Half of the place is still under repair, and the other half is populated with wares that are way over-priced and just 'stuff'. We did enjoy lunch at Jimmy Buffett's Margueritaville Cafe across the street. The lady in the black T-shirt, center in the above photo, Susan aka "Swag" to our town Forum friends, was with us as we meandered around on foot and in the SUV, not knowing where or what we were going to do next. Just a laid back kinda day. We were hoping one of our online friends, who lives in New Orleans would join us, so that after approx. ten years of 'knowing her', but never having met her, we could 'hug her neck', as Cappy says. Alas, it was not to be, but we had a good time getting to know Susan. Susan lives in Texas but came to town to attend the local town Forum's get together, which took place this last Sunday...the real weekend. She wears a perennial beautiful smile, as you will see from the slideshow of said Forum Gathering. Here's the slideshow, but more will be said in another forthcoming Blog posting about our new friend, "Swag".
OH! And at the right-hand side of the slideshow, there's an option to view in a better quality...I prefer to do that. Also there's an icon that you can click on the bottom right, that will make the video into a full screen for your viewing pleasure, as well. OK...da slideshow---> http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=DuzU9EoBxTk

FALL: A Good-Time Hitch On Da Boat

This hitch started off as they all do, with me Thanking God for the opportunity to work in the beautiful waters of southern Louisiana. Like I always say; if ya gotta work in an office, it may as well float down a lazy bayou with sights like this sunrise to greet ya in da mornin'.

Peggy mentioned in an earlier post how the bridges sustained lots of damage from this year's storms. This bridge was in operation as we passed, but you can see the damage to the bridge house (control structure).

Some places damaged by Gustav and then patched with the FEMA blue roofs, were re-damaged only a week later when Ike came by, while others were completely wiped out by the 1-2 hurricane punch.

Even amidst all the destruction, signs of life were returning back to normal. This picture of the swamp bird sitting in the shattered cypress stump kinda sums it up.

Of course the ever-present Egrets could be seen everywhere among the folliage of the bayous,which are slowly taking on a hint of Fall color.

You guys always ask for close-ups, so here is an Egret up close for yall.

I also got some good shots of this Pelican as it settled in by the boat for some fishing.



The spoonbill rosettes were pretty in their pinkness as they slogged through the mud, exposed by our passing, in search of lil shrimp and fishies.

We tied up in the marsh not far from the town of Leeville, Louisiana one afternoon and were surprised to see how much progress they are making on the new road to Grand Isle, La. Notice in the picture how the new bridge is gonna be lots taller than the old bridge . The day was so nice and cool that my crew decided to do a lil fishing. Peggy sure enjoyed the speckled trout fillets.

A few days later I got some pictures of this floating buzzard feast on the Intracoastal waterway. I can't hardly blame the buzzards, I like gator too.

I thought I'd end this lil account of my month on the boat with one of my favorite sights. This Eagle is one of several I got pictures of this hitch. They never fail to make my heart jump when I see them up close like this. They are truly magnificant birds. Now that I'm home, Peggy and I are already planning the fun frolicking things to do this time, and I am sure we will post our adventures of the fun we have, until it's time to put my Cappy hat back on and head out for another hitch.

Kaitlyn Brooke

Our tenth grandbaby, Kaitlyn Brooke was born yesterday @ 10:24 a.m, and weighed in at 8 lbs. and 12 oz. Yow! She's a big girl. When Joe was born, he weighed 8 lb. 8 oz, and I thought he was huge. The dr. even joked and said, "You want me to circumsize him right now? He's big enough"...he had a good laugh about it. HAH. >:-/
Mother and baby and Dad are fine. I got to hear her sweet little voice over the phone today when she started fussing. Lemme see...how many days til we will be going up to visit (?) Too many, that's for sure.

This is a picture of Ashley and Zachery, the big sister and brother, who are thrilled with their new little sister.

Well...this was just a little shot of wonderful news. I'll be writing more...whose nose when...mayhaps tomorrow.
Love youse guys...family, friends and 'drive-bys' :-)