Winds of Change
Wednesday it was near freezing and foggy; the next day the wind blew a gale from the south, and the next we’re barefoot and in shirtsleeves. But I’m not just talking about the changes in the weather down here in coastal Louisiana.
Wednesday it was near freezing and foggy; the next day the wind blew a gale from the south, and the next we’re barefoot and in shirtsleeves. But I’m not just talking about the changes in the weather down here in coastal Louisiana.
CHAPTER 12 – THE BIRTH 1982 – Pregnancy agreed with me, except for the first few months when I often felt queasy but never nauseated enough to toss my cookies. It was spring, the time of new life, and I blossomed in spirit as my belly grew with child. The only “scare” I had was…
Even as a child, I liked to wander unexplored territories, as much as that was possible growing up in a subdivision. It was nothing for me to jump the backyard fence, cross the concrete ditch, and shimmy under the barbed wire in order to explore the field behind the house. As I grew older and with a bicycle as my free ride, I went as far as my imagination and legs could take me, which was often to a pecan tree-filled lot beside the junior high school.
This past Saturday, our radio show topic was one I suggested–“women hunters”. Even though I’m not a hunter, I enjoyed moderating the show and sharing about the women hunters I’ve met this fall and what great gals they are.
One of those women hunters is an all-around outdoor woman who inspires me to the moon and back. She is Rene` Lofton Hatten, and I met her and Sammy this summer at our outdoor writer’s conference. She couldn’t believe the Bayou Woman wasn’t a hunter and invited me to the deer camp this fall, but you know how people say things to be polite and never follow through.
Last year my sons and I experimented with grilling duck breasts, and we met some challenges along the way. However, this year, I’ve got it all figured out and this recipe has passed the Bayou Woman Kitchen taste test.
La Toussaint, along with Le Jour des Morte, or All Souls Day, are not traditions with which I was familiar when I moved to bayou country back in 1978. Even now, because I’m not Catholic, I had to ask my Catholic friends questions about their origin and meaning.