But few mourners come when old timers fall

The trees on the left grow on a fence line that no longer exists.  

On Tuesday morning the big hand on the weather clock was moving back to cold again.  The dog and I walked south on the dirt road to the Pig Farm with a strong north wind blowing behind us.  The temperature had dropped from 60 degrees at midnight to 45 degrees when we left to go walking.  The humidity was in the 80 percent range.  The torn gray clouds blowing quickly to the south showed all the signs of clearing weather ahead in the day.

The massive tree that stood for 50+
years is now firewood.

As we walked down I stopped with the dog to look at a large Water Oak tree that has been cut to provide clearance for the power pole nearby.   The tree was massive at nearly 3 foot at it's base.

Disease is a problem for Water Oaks in the south. 

 The interior shows the dark areas which are signs of disease which eventually kills most Water Oaks in this area.  The tree grew on a fence line that once existed along this road before the pecan orchard was planted.  Before the orchard was planted the field was probably a pasture for cattle.

The stump measures nearly 3
feet across

 Based on my discussions with the property owner and the man who planted the orchard, I would imagine that the tree was in the neighborhood of 50 to 60 years old.    At one time I grew anxious when I saw trees being cut.  I thought there would soon be none left and we would live in  a desert.  My research into the history of the trees in Grand Bay show that trees here grow so fast that if we did not manage the trees all of our cleared areas would be primordial forests in a little more than 100 years.  You'll notice I wrote "manage the trees" not "cut all the trees down".  We are to be stewards of the earth not consumers of it.

The Pig Farm road in fall.

 We continued on down the road to the Pig Farm where things are looking pretty sad for the Kudzu vines growing there.

The Pig Farm road in Summer. 

 The frost has worked it's magic on the vines and they will decompose over the winter and allow all the understory plants to get fresh start in spring.   It is such a change from summer that I have included a photo of the road in summer to show the difference in the seasons.  The bleak scene is softened somewhat by the wild greens growing along the roadside.  The feral pigs if they are in the area should be showing up soon.  I look for their tracks in the red dirt of the road where they exit the woods.  They may not be coming up out of the woods this year as there are no pecans for them to root for in the pecan orchard.  If I see anything I will be sure to let you know.  Thanks for reading my blog today.  Stay warm.  Bye.

When it comes to weather, boring is good

I know it looks somber but at least it is not cold.

The dog and I walked down to the Pig Farm on Friday morning.  The weather was overcast with mild temperatures in the upper 60's.  When we arrived at the farm I noticed that the building looked particularly austere in the drab light of this gray morning.  The once green grass field in front of the buildings has been transformed by the frost and is now a golden yellow color.

The Pig Farm's golden field. 

  The frosts we have in Grand Bay seem to cause more damage than they do in the rest of Mobile county.  Numerous people I have talked to in Grand Bay agree with me that we most likely live in a micro climate situation.  The micro climate may be the result of our location between the Mobile Bay, the Grand Bay and the Gulf of Mexico as well as our relative high elevation (100+ feet) in close proximity to the see level areas around us.   At any rate in the 13 years I have been here it has often been much colder, hotter, drier and rainier than the surrounding towns of Mobile county.

The dog decided to take the foot ball
on the road. 

After looking at the farm for a few minute I turned to go and found the dog standing in front of me with his foot ball ready for me to throw it.  Sometimes he likes to take his toys on the road with him and play with them along the way.  We walked back home through the pecan orchard where the foundation of the new home there is now under construction.

How can so little water get me so wet?

The cogangrass in the orchard is coming back up after being cut a while back.   The grass blades are capable of holding on to large drops of  dew and rain water which can soak your clothing and shoes from the knees down.  I prefer to walk on the road but the dog loves the cool wet grass.

 It appears we have now arrived at the time of the year when fronts will pass through on an approximately weekly basis.  The fronts will cause the weather to rotate through several stages over the 7 to 10 day period going from  clear breezy cool and dry days to warmer and very humid cloudy days followed by the passage of rain storms with their cold rainy days.  Then everything starts over.  Boring and repetitive yes but, let us hope and pray that the pattern holds steady until spring.  Any large variations can turn this place into a desert or a flood plain.  Thanks for reading my blog today.  Bye.

The memory of pigs

Memory Lane?

Friday morning the sun was shining brightly when the dog and I headed down to the Pig Farm.  The temperature was around 47 degrees and the humidity was pretty dry at 60 percent.  We walked through the pecan orchard as we went and I noticed that the construction of the new home there has moved a little further along.  A water well has been drilled and a pump house has been constructed to cover the pump motor.  It appears any further construction awaits the connection of the temporary power pole to electricity.   Many houses are being built in our area now as the interest rates for mortgage loans have been driven artificially low by some very worrisome government policies.  Only time will tell if this home construction boom is sustainable.  We continued on down to the Pig Farm and slipped inside to take some archival photos of the farm as I have a feeling the place will not be there much longer.   This farm is a place that shocked me one day as I suddenly realized I had been here nearly 45 years earlier with my Dad.  The farm looked very different then.  The buildings were in good order and there were several pecan trees growing around the place making it very shady.  I remember my Dad took my two brothers and I in the car with him as he drove around on one of his Sunday exploration trips.  He loved to take us to the places most parent would never have taken their kids.  At that time I was very fearful about new places and new people and  I remember being very apprehensive about going farther and farther down the dirt road to a an unfamiliar place in the what seemed  like the end of the world. When we arrived at the farm at the end of the road we got out of the car and my Dad who was not the least bit shy about going anywhere he wanted to, led us into the wooden door of the pig farm building.

A door into my past.

  I can still remember once inside the door, walking beside the pig pens and seeing all the pig jostling each other.  The noise the pigs were making and the smell made my head spin.  My Dad kept walking through the building coaxing us kids along, until we met a man who was spraying  the floor of one of the pens with a hose.  He stopped spraying the hose and greeted my Dad who told him we were out exploring.

People have stolen the metal roof above the pens.

The man seemed happy that someone had come to visit him.  He put his hose down,  leaned on the pen and spent a quite a few minutes talking to my Dad and us kids. When he heard my brothers and I asking why the pigs where not all muddy the man explained that his pigs never stood on the ground and were very clean animals. He said that pigs in farm yards rolled in mud because that was the only way they could get cool and protect themselves from insects.  He also explained the entire process of raising the pigs and caring for them and what happened to them when they were full grown and went to market.   He really did not want us to leave until we were convinced that raising pigs was not all mud and pig poop.  I guess he must have made his point pretty well because I still remember his words to this day.

The only pig pens that are still usable.  

When he and my Dad finished talking we filed out of the building, jumped in the car and drove back home.  I guess my Dad, my brothers and I forgot that day as it receded into the past but one day it all came back to me at once.  I was walking down the dirt road to the pig farm a few years after moving to my home here to Grand Bay.  There were no fences around the farm then and when I arrived at the end of the road I wandered around the buildings to see what had been there.  I walked through a wooden door to the inside of the dilapidated building and suddenly a wave of recognition washed over me. This was the place my Dad had brought me to all those years ago.  I felt very sad that my childhood memory had fallen into such disrepair and that my Dad, who had died at my house a couple of years earlier, never knew that the place he had taken us to all those years ago was just down the road.  I would liked to have had the chance to take him there and thank him for bringing my brothers and I to the Pig Farm that day as well as all the other places he carried us to during his explorations.   He instilled in me and my brothers a sense of wonder and curiosity that has served us well in our lives.  For that I am truly grateful.  Thanks Pops, I miss you.  Bye.