Ok, I admit it, the mailbox is old and needs to be replaced… it’s one of those jobs we’ve put off doing. The mailbox isn’t in a great location to begin with and our other options aren’t that great. The postal workers are good sports about it, even though the red flag has been long gone and the mailbox tends to stand open almost all the time… to be honest it’s a busy box. We were surprised this year in early May to discover at the very back of the mailbox- there was a bird’s nest! Of all places…
Here at the cottage, we’re used to finding bird’s nests- one favorite spot seems to be right above the front door, which I frankly find charming. We don’t disturb those front door nests or any others we find. Occasionally we’ve had a front door nest fall on the doormat and tried to put it back, knowing it probably wouldn’t be used again, since we’ve touched it. Another favorite spot seems to be among the rose bushes along the picket fence out front. We know this, we don’t disturb them, we like them! To me, a bird’s nest is one of the most hopeful things in nature. This year in January, it was time to cut the roses back hard- they had become leggy and too tall, so we took a few inches off at a time, precisely to keep from disturbing any unseen bird’s nests, since we’ve noticed they’re used over again. We found no rose bush nests this time, so the pruning was done… Now, I’m no expert on birding or bird nest building but I have to admit I have a strong admiration for their building skills- some are works of art and some are sort of messy but still charming.
We left one for several years- which had been built in a galvanized pitcher left on it’s side was under a little outbuilding. Finally we decided that it had been abandoned. That nest was so well built, I haven’t been able to dislodge it. I keep it, I love to look at it. I’ve even named it’s photograph- ‘Empty Nest’. I’ve even built a few faux nests by using craft store ‘nests’ and embellishing them- especially around Eastertime.
The mailbox nest was a puzzle- weeks went by… we kept watch on it -no activity was detected. I even mused that perhaps it was a vacation home, since the only quiet time for the mailbox would have been on Saturday afternoons, Sundays and occasional Monday holidays. A few days ago, when I removed the mail, which included a package, several catalogs and a magazine.. and a long envelope, the nest came forward with the letter! I tugged on it to see if there was any sign of tiny feathers or eggshell shards….nothing to indicate that the nest had been inhabited. I snapped a picture and left it. Then, I engaged in some covert bird watching to see if a flurry of sparrows or finches or brown thrush would flutter around it. Nothing. I named the photograph ‘Special Delivery’. 
Later in the day, I removed it and inspected the mailbox nest further- a veritable work of art, look at the perfectly round entrance, protective entrance twigs and the edging of moss! Hmm…I wondered who had been pilfering the bright green moss I had used on the urns by the front door! Some little feathered friends! I marveled at the tiny birds who were making a lovely nest…far back in the darkened and dilapidated mailbox…. I have to admit, there was an element of sadness to think such a pretty nest had never become a place of rest for a momma bird to lay her eggs, raise her young, feed them worms from our garden and finally teach these little ones to fly- and yet, what lesson in nesting… of using our gifts, putting forth the effort to build a home and adding beauty no matter where we are!
Love y’all, Camellia
* photographs are obviously mine. *Please don’t remove a bird’s nest if you find one…don’t disturb or touch it either, unless you find something unusual like this or an obviously abandoned nest! Thank you! 
*I’ve put this one on display for now and I consider the nest to be a rare find, a natural wonder and a treasure!
Unless you were raised in a thicket of Loblolly pines by a passel of possums- as a Southerner you’ve eaten your fair share of casseroles. I cannot recall the first time I tasted a casserole, though I do recall the first time I ever watched a casserole being made. I was about four years old, our neighbor cooked for her aging mother on Fridays- she let me ‘help‘. My feet didn’t reach the floor of her kitchen table- yet we always started the morning drinking a cup of coffee- yes, you read that right. My coffee was full of cream and sugar- which to this day I would rather prefer to drink black! Still. I was polite and didn’t make a fuss because when the cooking got under way…well, it was an amazing thing to watch. Her kitchen was fully equipped. Her freezer held an enormous amount of fruits and vegetables she had put up in containers right beside those aluminum ice cube trays that had a lever to release the ice. Miss Margaret, also had a pantry lined with lacy paper edging the shelves- there were rows and rows of pickles, preserves and an enormous amount of canning jars full of tomatoes and other fine things. Her living room might have been filled with doodads, even a Kewpie Doll her husband won for her at the county fair, an upright piano with a crocheted scarf across the top with even more doodads- but her kitchen ran like a well oiled machine. When Margaret was making a casserole, I remember how much I liked the word, I even said it under my breath until I could pronounce casserole just like she did. From then on, my ears perked up when I heard the word and saw an oven proof baking dish. Did I make a lot of them as a kid. Not really, but as an adult, I’ve made my share and eaten even more.
Folks will be grinning like a passel of possums when they see a Summer Squash Casserole! I suspect Southern Casseroles will be around for as long as folks like to gather for Sunday Dinners, Reunions, Decoration Days, Homecomings or Homegoings! Bless the cooks who bring casseroles! And as always…
Pickling is certainly not new, it’s hard to even figure out the origins of pickling and preserving for it seems humans have been trying to preserve their food …well forever. Maybe. Some of the finest pickles I have ever eaten aren’t Southern at all, though my first taste of them might have been. Long gone, Browdy’s Delicatessen in Mountain Brook, Alabama gave me my first taste of a real Kosher pickle- cucumber and green tomatoes were pickled with such skill that I can still recall how wonderful they were… Carnegie and Katz’ Delis in New York City came close though. Still. What is unique to Southern Picklin’ isn’t about how to pickle but what we pickle in the South. Everything you see on this plate, for instance can and has been pickled!
It’s not unusual to see this type of pickle on our favorite vegetable or lunch plates- even a Bloody Mary with a pickled green bean, a large shrimp, pickled okra, brown sugar bacon and a hot pepper is a simply gorgeous drink- spiked or not! So refreshing with spicy tomato juice, a generous amount of lemon juice and rimmed with salt! Probably our all time favorite refrigerator pickle here at Camellia’s Cottage is Pickled Beets! Almost no cooking at all. A variation is made with the addition of fresh cucumber slices, the flavor is subtly changed, but is just as delicious. Here’s how to make:
Camellia’s Pickled Beets 
I’ve put this off for 7 years. I don’t believe in jumping in headfirst. I stuck my toe in the water yesterday- it’s almost Open Toe Season in Alabama- I went and got a pedicure, with red polish- of course. The classic summer toenail color in the South is red, I chose ‘Big Apple’ because truth be told I’d rather be headed to New York City than on a Beach trip where I’ll actually be expected to go in the water. Oh lord, those are scary words. Shopping for a Bathing Suit is painful, especially for a woman of a certain age and stature. My whole demeanor, posture and bearing change in a dressing room full of bathing suits. Let me make this clear- I live in Alabama, her coastline is one of the most beautiful in all the world- I’ve been going to the beach since I was a child and love it.
Camellia's Cottage 