Friday, July 3, 2020

In Which Ms. Moon Loses Her Temper

Well, today was a bit different. I learned something about myself that I'm not too proud of.
Or else I am. I don't know. I suppose it just is what it is.

Everything started out fairly normally. I did a few things around here. Packed up some green beans for both May and Jessie and a few jars of pickles for May. Jessie already has some. I went to the Co-op where May's working these days and met Jessie there. When I saw my girl I said, "Turn around." She did and I patted her butt.
"Mama's can do that," she said.
I agreed it was true.
We did a little shopping and giggled and caught up on a few things. Finally we located May and I made her turn around and patted her butt too. I seriously doubt that anyone has gotten covid yet from a pat on a clothed butt. Especially not from a mother.
I know this is silly and maybe even a little creepy too but I can't tell you how wonderful it was, just for a second, to touch those girls, even through their clothes. To make contact with their living, being shapes that came from my own body.
You want to hear something really silly?
I'm tearing up right now, just thinking about it. Lord, how I miss touch.

I found bread flour in bulk and got that and some soybeans and two bags of real, true stone-ground grits. The kind that take an hour to cook and are the only grits worthy to join with shrimp in shrimp-and-grits as far as I'm concerned. I bought some fancy hippie lotion and some Dr. Bronner's citrus-scented hemp soap. Something new for me. I've never even seen that version. It smells delightful. I use diluted Dr. Bronner's in all my foaming soap dispensers. Works great. Cheap too, when you dilute it as much as I do. Says right on the label: "DILUTE, DILUTE, DILUTE!"
And so I do.

We finished our shopping there and reluctantly said good-bye to May. Jessie went off one way, I went another. I had to go to Publix to pick up a prescription and I needed a few things I wasn't going to buy at the Co-op like aluminum foil and parchment paper. I noticed that my brand of coffee was on sale BOGO and while I was searching for bags of my favorite, which is the Italian roast and which must be the favorite of a lot of other people too because they always sell out of that first, I heard a woman behind me addressing a fairly elderly guy who's worked at that Publix forever. He stocks the shelves and Lily told me that he mostly works because his wife died and it gets him out of the house. I've always admired his ability to bend and kneel and get back up. But he's got to be way past seventy and this woman (white, probably in her early fifties, maybe a bit younger) was telling him that he needed to take that mask off every now and then so that he could BREATHE!
She herself must have been having trouble breathing because although she was wearing a mask, as per county order, she was wearing it below her chin.
"They can't force you to wear it," she told him. "You have to be able to breathe."
Not only was she not wearing her mask, she was right up in this man's space. No six-foot distancing for Ms. Breathe. I couldn't believe it. I turned around and said, "Lady! Lady! What are you telling him?"
"I'm just saying that it's his right to take his mask off and breathe. That people can't breathe properly when they're wearing a mask. That it's unhealthy. That they can't force him to wear it."
Now. Actually, Publix employees ARE required to wear masks. For their entire shifts. Does anyone like it? Not especially but the smart ones know why they're wearing it and the ones who aren't so smart still want their jobs.
I got ON this woman. I told her that it was ridiculous to believe you can't breathe wearing a mask and that you don't wear the mask to protect yourself, you wear it to protect others.
"You're wearing yours to protect YOU!" she said.
Stupid AND not psychic.
"How do you think surgeons do it?" I asked her.
"I don't know," she said. "They're a lot younger than us." Then she thought about that. "Well, not all of them."
"They manage just fine wearing masks," I said. "And why do you think they wear them?"
"Because they're forced to!" she sang out triumphantly.
"And why are they forced to?" I asked her and then answered my own damn question- "For their patients' safety."
She acknowledged that this was true but couldn't somehow link that fact to her own "facts" about needing to breathe and masks not really protecting anyone.
And here's where I learned something about myself. At this point I was on fire. This whole argument in the middle of Publix felt so fucking GOOD! My anger felt clean and hot and I wanted to slay her with my words. And I realized that I could easily get crazed enough in my (to me, anyway) righteous anger to actually smack her. And I stopped right there.
Except for yelling at her, "Get a clue! Get a clue!"
And I grabbed the two bags of Italian roast I could find, threw them in my cart and stalked off.
I really showed her, didn't I?
No. No I didn't. She's probably telling someone right now about the crazy old hippie in Publix trying to tell HER about masks. And about how stupid and what a sheep I am.
It reminded me of the time I went back to the dump depot and told off the old man who worked there for saying racist things to a young woman there who, unbeknownst to him, had an adopted African American father. My anger felt hot and clean then, too, even surrounded by the stink and flies of the rotting trash of Lloyd. I could have screamed at that old man. Again, I did not. But I sure got close.

And, like with the woman in Publix, I seriously doubt that the things I said to him that day changed his thinking or outlook one bit. I was doing it for my own sense of self-righteousness. To appease my own anger. The girl I was defending was nowhere around.

Here's another thing I keep thinking about- how that man in Publix whom the woman had been advising to take his mask off and breathe, just stood there, wordless as our words ricocheted around him. At the very least, I was rude to break into a conversation that did not involve me even though yes, I rationalized that it very much did involve me and everyone else in the store.
And I don't even know if that was the "right" way to think or not. Is there a right way? I don't know and I may never know but I sure didn't take a minute to think about it before I lit into the woman.
And honestly, I wish I'd given her hell for standing, maskless, so close to that man.

So that's my little story. Whoo-hoo! I had a small, old white woman tantrum in public, in Publix today. I'm glad Lily wasn't there.

Another day, another reason to hate Trump. I don't have one specifically in mind but I'm sure there are plenty. Another day to watch the covid numbers soar. Another day to think about all the people who are bound and determined to go out and celebrate their freedom in public places in completely unsafe ways. Another day to watch people completely ignore the experts, the doctors, the disease control specialists and to make up their minds about the situation from Fox news and QAnon websites.

When I looked for aluminum foil at Publix they had the short rolls, but not the long ones. I wonder if people bought them all up to make their tinfoil hats with. Because there sure are a lot of people who must be wearing them.
Wish they'd wear masks too.

Hey! Happy Friday, y'all!

Love...Ms. Moon

Thursday, July 2, 2020

The Sweetest Gifts

Do you remember when Mr. Moon and I drove down to the coast to take his boat into the shop about two months ago? That's been a pain in his ass ever since. The shop was overwhelmed with boats as it's the only boat motor repair place in the area and that area has a lot of boats in it. Due to that fact or whatever, Mr. Moon was having a horrible time communicating with them about his repairs and today he finally just drove down there to get the boat.
Not a good experience.
Can we just say that a guy who works there offered to beat my husband's ass?
Unsettling, to say the least. And trust me, Glen is like the least prone to violence person I know. The offer was unprovoked. The guy obviously has some serious issues.
But anyway, he has the boat back and he did take it out on Apalachicola River for a little test run and he's home now. And he brought me some dill seeds that he went to two different stores to find. He got them at what we call The Pig in Apalachicola which is actually the Piggly Wiggly and no, I am not making that up.
He is the sweetest man. Lily has also ordered me some with her Walmart curbside pick-up order so I should be back in the dill pickle making business soon.
Just in time. Look what I picked today.

That is one hell of a lot of beans and I'm quite sure I left a lot on the vines. Some are quite obvious. 

and dangle politely from the trellis but many are not and hide themselves on top of the trellis and behind leaves and I could literally go back and forth, picking the vines several times and not find them all. It's sort of fun but not really in this heat. I only gave it a once-through and back picking because good Lord! That was enough beans for one day. Why anyone plants any type of beans besides rattlesnake beans I do not know. Not only are they the most prolific beans I've ever grown, their growing season is way longer than any other type I've ever planted AND they are as tender and sweet as any bean I've ever tasted. Forget your Kentucky Wonder, your Blue Lake varieties. Get you some rattlesnake beans and plant those. 
And next year, remind me to only plant one fence line of them. That is way more than enough. 

Another thing I need to be reminded of is NOT TO WALK FOUR MILES IN THIS HEAT! I set out this morning, determined to only do three and when I got to the 1.5 point I thought, "Oh hell. I feel fine," and kept on for another half mile and that was fine too but the last mile on my way home was hell on this planet. I passed a neighbor in about the last quarter of a mile and although I usually stop and chat with him I just couldn't today. 
"I'm sorry. I have to keep going," I flung at him as I passed him. "I gotta get home. I'm about to pass out." 
I am of the if-you're-dying-walk-faster school of thought. 
I felt so rude but I had to do what I had to do. 
"Okay," he said. "God bless you!"
"You too," I said over my shoulder. 
I have no doubt that the phrase "crazy old white woman" crossed his mind. It certainly crossed mine.

I had one real goal today and that was to straighten and tidy up the table on the back porch where I basically live. Good thing that was my only goal because although I did get that accomplished and a clean tablecloth thrown over the table, I sure didn't do much else. 
I baked another loaf of sourdough, this time making up my own damn recipe and it came out very pretty. I also started a pot of our favorite black bean soup but the damn beans must be forty years old because despite the fact that I brought them to a boil, let them soak for a few hours, cooked them for more hours, and finally pressure cooked them for almost an hour, they're still not what I'd call soft but they're simmering as we speak. 

I also talked to a very, very dear friend this afternoon for quite awhile. He is one of the most precious people I know and although he is going through some very tough times he made me laugh because he's just so damn profane and funny. And honest. He's the kind of friend who I can go years without talking to but when we do connect, there's absolutely no disconnect. We are bonded throughout eternity. 

Once again I am reminded of how incredibly fortunate I am. 

One more thing- like Steve Reed and Linda Sue I woke up this morning from the most bizarre house dream I may have ever had. That would not be so shocking because I do have bizarre house dreams but to read that both Linda and Steve had such memorable house dreams too is quite strange. 
As we all know, I don't really believe in new age-y magic but I do indeed believe that we humans have senses and abilities that science can't explain because science just doesn't understand them yet. 
Something was going on. 
And I do not dare to postulate what that might be. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Wednesday, July 1, 2020

In Which I Do Not Buy Dill

Well, harumph. I actually made the effort to go to the Winn Dixie in Monticello today to search for dill seeds. The Winn Dixie has always been my go-to place for dill seeds as Publix just doesn't carry them. I do not know why. There was a place for dill seeds at the Winn Dixie but it was bereft of any little jars. I used up my last jar when I made dills on Sunday. Or was it Saturday? I'd stashed a bunch of them in the freezer year before last, I think, and they were still fine but now they are gone. Not really gone, just used. One cannot drain the old seeds off new pickles and reuse them, so essentially, yes, gone.

I also went to the Tractor Supply store to buy more chicken feed and also some chick feed because once again, being human, I just could not leave Dottie alone up there in the nest with her child with no source of food and the little one is a sitting duck (or, sitting chick, as it were) for anything that might get into the hen house, be it snake or possum or coon. And I was getting worried. Generally, the eggs all hatch at about the same time so that Mama can take them all off foraging when they are just a day old. I'm not sure at all that Dottie's other egg is going to hatch but she won't get off it until it does or I throw it away so poor little Bebe was just hanging out and getting hungrier by the minute. I assume.
I filled up a waterer and put chick feed in a feeder and put those in the little chick cage and moved Dottie and the baby AND the egg in with them. I put fresh hay down for them. Dottie did not like being moved but once I set her down and she saw her baby and knew her egg was there she settled right in to eating and drinking and I'm sure that she taught her little one how to do it too so they are safe and Dottie can continue to sit on her egg and they won't die of starvation or dehydration.

I just went out to check on the mother and child and found the egg rolled off into the dirt but Dottie and her baby seem just fine.

I think we should just go ahead and name the little one Dearie because we do not at present have a Dearie and Gibson loves that name. So. There you go. Dottie and Dearie. It may well be that Dottie has given up on the egg. Again, I have to say that I have no more idea how these things are determined by the mother than I understand quarks but luckily, I don't have to. Darla is still sitting on her egg or eggs, patient and still as the Sphinx. 

I was surprised to see that most of the people in the Winn Dixie and the Tractor Supply were wearing masks. Pleasantly surprised. I was also surprised that the Tractor Supply still has chicks. I did not buy any although I will say that I was tempted, knowing that I could put them into Dottie's capable, uh, claws for raising. But there's always the chance she would not accept them and then I'd be stuck and besides that- I already have seventeen chickens and one chick. More than enough poultry riches for me. 

While I was outside I went and checked on my fig tree. As every year, it has made quite a few figs but they are so tiny! Some are growing ripe, though. 

If the squirrels and crows leave me enough I would love to make fig preserves. They are so good. 
We shall see. 
As with everything. Eventually. 

It rained this afternoon and it is nicely cooled down outside. Unfortunately, the mosquitoes are out in force. I bought some "all natural" bug spray at Costco yesterday, mainly because that's what they had and I didn't want to go to another store but I haven't really given it a big test yet. I did use it this morning before I went out to tend the chickens and I have to say I didn't get bit but I was moving fast and they were certainly still swarming me. At the very least, it smells nicely of citronella and other herbs and spices. The smell of the citronella takes me right back to my summers when we rented that tiny little apartment on St. George Island and I'd buy citronella candles at the Dollar Store to burn in our "yard" made of rocks and sandspurs. 
Oh, how magical those summers were. 

Off to make supper, as always. Tonight's menu is going to feature a ROASTED CHICKEN! Yes. I am the world's biggest hypocrite. At least I buy the ones who were supposedly treated right during their short lifetimes. 
I have my doubts about that but it's the least I can do. 
Meanwhile, my own chicks are getting ready for bed. I can see Pinto, Pecky, and Patty up on the fence, enjoying their last hour of sunlight.

So it goes. 

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. Mr. Moon just told me that he sprayed himself with the new nicely scented bug spray and he (and I quote) "Feels like a pincushion." 
Time to buy more Deet. 

Tuesday, June 30, 2020

I Survive And The Pragmatic Miracle Of Birth

This is the sight that greeted me when I went into the hen house this morning to see if there were any eggs. One of Miss Dottie's two eggs has hatched and there's the little one looking as healthy and aware and darling as a baby peep should look. I checked under Dottie and there's still another egg and she's not getting off that nest yet. She's still in full broody-mode, tail spread and feathers fluffed and none of the other chickens would come through the hen house this morning to make their way outside which suggests that one of them may have gotten too close to the baby earlier and been soundly reprimanded by the new mother. Or something. Who knows? But when Mr. Moon opened the door to the coop letting them out directly without having to go through the hen house, they trouped out as usual so something happened. Darla is still sitting on her one egg but I know that she's only been on it for a few days because I threw the one that had spoiled out. I honestly did not think that any chicks would hatch because of the way the mothers have switched nests and how hot it's been but I admit freely that there is a great deal that I do not know about chickens.
Plus- life will find a way, won't it?

So. Annual doctor's appointment. Do you know that in the four years or so I've been seeing the sweet Dr. Zorn that I have not ONCE been to see him for a complaint? No illness, no infections, no anything whatsoever except for my exams.
That has nothing to do with anything but it probably is indicative of the fact that I am a fairly healthy woman who doesn't get sick very often.
But this morning I worked myself up into a right tizzy before I left to go into town. I just can't help it. I did some stern self-talking, I did a lot of deep breathing.
I caved and took half an Ativan.
I showered and washed my hair which is just about down to my waist now which is what hair WILL do if one doesn't cut it for several years. I combed it out and braided it back and put on my favorite blue dress and some blue earrings and drove to town in the growing heat.
I was the only person in the waiting room for awhile. Masks were required. I love the receptionist. She calls everyone "Sweetie." Remember when I hated that? Now I live for her endearments. Another lady came in and signed in. She, too, was called Sweetie.
She brought bags of snacks for the staff.
I am not kidding you. BAGS OF SNACKS FOR THE STAFF!
This is how beloved Dr. Zorn and his folks are.
I wished I'd brought snacks for the staff too. Dang it.
When I was called back a very young woman took my vitals. She told me she was a student nurse and she did a great job. My blood pressure was of course, high. But lower than it usually is when I get it taken in the doctor's office.
And then I waited, reading my New Yorker magazine until Dr. Z. knocked on the door and came in and he looked quite dashing in his black mask. We elbow-bumped. He's a talker and a toucher. Not a toucher in a creepy way. A toucher in a reassuring way. A toucher in a I-recognize-your-humanity way.
I asked him about his new baby. When I was there a year ago his wife was pregnant with their second child. This new one was born on New Year's Eve. Another son. He showed me pictures. I showed him the picture of MY new baby- the one above.
In exam news, my blood work was mostly quite fine. All of the major organs that blood work shows the functions of are terrific.
He did his magic trick again of getting me up on the table and doing a short exam (I was still in my dress) before I knew he I was out of my chair. How does he DO that?
He asked me some questions and we talked about chickens some. He has chickens too, and he loves them. "They're very intelligent animals," he told me quite seriously. He had a whole long story about trying to get a specific breed of hens (he lives in town and can't keep roosters) which required a trip both to the Woodville Ace Hardware and the Monticello Tractor Supply and how he ended up with only three of the breed he wanted despite being assured that they were the ones he wanted and of those, only one was a hen.
"Do you want any roosters?" he asked me.
"No thank-you," I said.
We talked a little about the coronavirus but not much. I told him that I haven't been able to hug or kiss my grandkids since March 17 and he said, "Well, I always say you have to balance risk versus quality of life," so there is that to ponder...
And he told me that I am in excellent health and he'll see me next year.
He also gave me a new patient stack of forms for Lily to fill out because she wants to become one of his patients. She suffers from the same medical-anxiety that I do and knows several of his patients who all love him.

On my way home I stopped at Costco for a few things and then, at the request of my husband, went through a car wash so the outside of my car looks pretty good while the inside of it smells like Panacea at low tide due to a small bait bucket leakage incident yesterday.
Oh well.

Then I dropped off the new patient packet to Lily and came on home and did a few chores and then laid down to take a little nap but ended up sleeping for an hour. Nothing like the sudden release of sheer panic to wear a girl out. I'm cooking some of the beautiful field peas that Mr. Moon shelled the other day. It's going to be the simplest supper. The peas, some cornbread, sliced tomatoes and cucumbers. That's summer. Right there.

Because I'm a human I'm worried about the new chick not eating or drinking since she's up in the nest with her mama. I mean, chickens don't lactate. I cooked a scrambled egg and mixed it with yogurt and put it in front of Dottie and the baby who showed no interest in it but her mother ate it up like a beast. I have to trust that Dottie knows what to do.

I sure wish we humans knew what to do. I sure wish we humans were incredibly intelligent animals. I sure wish all doctors were as sweet as mine.
I sure wish we could grow fresh tomatoes all year long.

Can we chat tomorrow?
I hope so.

Love...Ms. Moon

Monday, June 29, 2020

I Think He Has Had A Good Birthday

There's a picture of Mr. Moon and August fishing down at Mashes Sands which is a beach on the Oclockonee Bay, about an hour from here. Jessie and Vergil have been taking their boys down there for awhile now and have found a place that is almost always deserted except for them. They asked us if we'd like to meet them there today for Boppy's birthday and we did.

Where they set up their little camp is on a tiny island created by a stream which feeds into and out of the marshland. The water between it and the land is not very deep at all and during a low tide, just a few inches deep in some places, perfect for the boys. 

Perfect for mamas, too, who can just lizard out in the water and watch the children and talk. There's a deeper part where August practiced his swimming with his daddy. 

It was so sweet. Jessie had picked up subs for us and a cake, too, because I didn't have time to make our dessert. It was a small cake, a delicious cake, a cake with a whole lot of icing. The boys especially loved the cake. 

Can you see how dark August is getting? The contrast between his butt and his back is crazy. I'd love to see a genetic study done on him because somewhere there was at least one darker-skinned ancestor. And Jessie keeps the boys covered in sun screen. 

Speaking of butts. 

Levon has one of the cutest butts in the world. 
As you can see, there was a little fishing going on. One small redfish was caught and released and Mr. Moon wants to go back at change of tide sometime soon. The tide was slack while we were there today which I hear is the worst time for fishing. But it was fun for those who fished and I doubt anything in the world could make Glen happier than fishing with a grandchild. And I got to visit with Jessie and Vergil safely outside where the wind was blowing and seagulls were bitching at us and I got to talk with the boys, too, and watched August swim and played with Levon who was dragging a fish-float around like a dog on a leash, being happy. 
He was splashing with his mother when Vergil came up and kissed Jessie and Levon said, "I want kiss too," and Vergil gave him a sweet kiss and then Jessie gave him one too and I teared up. I love the way they love. 

All right. I need to get in there and make our supper. Mr. Moon enjoyed the pizza so much the other night that I've decided to make it again. We have the tomatoes, the basil, and the arugula and they won't last forever. I want us to eat them while they're in their glory as much as we are able and as often. 

Tomorrow is my appointment with my doctor. By this time tomorrow it will all be over. 
I am looking forward to that. 
Meanwhile, I keep reminding myself that I do love this doctor, I feel quite healthy and well except for anxiety, and chances are good that I don't have any dire diseases. 
Or so I tell myself. 
Anxiety brain is singing a different song but as we all know, some songs are nothing but annoying bullshit which become earworms and they do eventually pass. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Sunday, June 28, 2020

And The Flowers Still Bloom

I meant to post that picture last night. Those are hydrangea blossoms that Maggie handed me when she got out of the car yesterday. Lily's hydrangeas have been blooming and blooming and BLOOMING! They are the most exquisite color, to me.

I've spent most of the day making pickles. Eleven pints in all. Seven of dills and four of an experiment involving cucumbers, onions, a sweet brine and various spices. We shall see what those taste like. Every jar has sealed.

Tomorrow is Mr. Moon's birthday and I have done nothing to prepare for that nor do I have any plans. Well, I did buy the ingredients to make one of his favorite desserts. It is quite decadent with a chocolate custard layer and whipped cream with cream cheese and a pecan crust. I've talked about this before. How the recipe came out of his former mother-in-law's little self-published cookbook but I've never followed that recipe because it calls for things like Jello instant pudding and Cool Whip. To be quite honest, I have eaten and enjoyed Jello instant pudding and Cool Whip on more than one occasion but I will never make this dessert with such tacky products. Especially not for a birthday. 

Everything seems so weird today. Just so, so strange. 

Here we are, summer is well upon us, the heat presses down and the crickets sing that heat into being every day. There are chickens and this beautiful garden and we have electricity and running water and cars that we can jump into and drive places and the grocery stores have stocked shelves and life keeps going on and we have birthdays and we make special desserts and on the one hand it all seems so familiar, so ordinary, and then on the other hand, masks hang from our rear view mirrors and hand sanitizer is always with us and hospital ICU's are at capacity and George Floyd is dead and so are so many others and Trump reshared a video on Twitter with one of his supporters yelling, "White Power! White Power!" although I hear it's come down but Trump's original comment on the video was, "Thank you to the great people of The Villages. The Radical Left Do Nothing Democrats will Fall in the Fall. Corrupt Joe is shot! See you soon!"
The Villages, of course, is an "elite" retirement community in the great state of Florida where white people over the age of fifty-five move when they figure they've worked long enough and have the funds to support that decision. Here's a short and pleasant article about the place and its residents which mostly focuses on the amount of sexual shenanigans the white-haired, golf-cart-driving, fun-loving retirees are getting up to.  
I can hardly imagine a place that sounds more like a living hell to me but I take it that there are a lot of Trump supporters living there. I wonder how much they're going to be loving him when their IRA's and stock portfolios drop like a golf ball onto the rough. 
But the point of this is- we have a president who, in the middle of what might be one of the most powerful movements for the equality of black citizens ever to be seen posts a video of a an old white man shouting "White Power!"
And oh, hell. That's just the very tip of the giant steaming pile of excrement that Donald Trump has laid upon this country. 
He's so desperate right now that it's absolutely ridiculous to even try and predict what he'll come up with next. Everyone knows that there is nothing more dangerous than a wild animal which feels as if it is cornered
I have no idea if Trump actually understands how badly he's failed at the job of being president of the United States. He thought and believed with all of his heart that it was a job done with smoke and mirrors and he was smug in his belief that he was the master of those. 
All I want is to be able to spend time with my grandchildren in my grandmother house sitting on the love couch in the library, reading books with them snuggled up to me and having the serious sort of  conversations that one can only have with children. I want to be able to kiss my babies, to hug and hold on to them. I want to go to the river and dive in and I want to be able to sit under the trees and listen to the conversations happening all around me. I want my country to be rid of the evil poison which has flooded it. 
I want us to be a country where everyone does the best they can to help stop this horrible sickness, as August called it, so that we can truly be free again instead of fighting distance and mask requirements in the name of liberty. 

I want to be able to go out with my family to El Patron to celebrate my husband's birthday. 

Meanwhile, we go on. I just pulled the densest loaf of sourdough bread I've ever baked out of the oven. I am so disappointed in myself. But I will say that my pizza last night had the best crust I've ever made. Or at least it was in Mr. Moon's eyes. He loves the thin and crispy crust and oh, my dears- it was. 

I apologize for my rambles. 

Be well. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Saturday, June 27, 2020


How I love that picture. I took it while I was out picking field peas. You can't really tell but that little anole is tiny. See the bean hanging there at the top right? Such a darling little lizard.

The wind is kicking up, stirring the rest of that Saharan dust about, I guess. Wasn't quite as hazy today as it was yesterday although Mr. Moon said that when he drove into Tallahassee this morning the town was almost browned out.
I think we might be about to get some rain and that would be terrific. It's thundering as it has been every afternoon and the sky is getting darker and like I said- the wind is picking up, swishing the leaves about and making thin branches dance.

It's been so hot. Almost unbearable. Lily and the kids came over for a little afternoon visit and we all sat in the back yard in the shade after we'd sprayed ourselves and still the mosquitos swarmed us but as Mr. Moon said, they sort of just bumped into our skin and didn't actually poke their little proboscises into us for the most part. Just their presence sets me on edge though, seeing and hearing them buzz about my face.
Magnolia had to go get eggs when she first got here and she found two. I had seen one earlier when I checked but knowing she was coming over I left it for her to find. It thrills her so. Mr. Moon got home just about the same time they got here which was lovely. He said of his job at the duplex- I have done all I'm big enough to do. And sometimes more.
His daddy used to say that. And he was a big man too. Or, tall, to be more exact.

Magnolia brought her Baby Alive which is now set in Espanol mode, as Owen pointed out. She wanted the little wicker baby carriage so I came in the house and got it for her and also a jug of apple juice and cups for the kids. And of course a new jar of pickled beans. We sat and chatted for awhile. Owen had wanted his hair cut so his mama did that for him. It's still quite stylish. Lily said that it hurt her heart to cut it but they were both tired of having to brush it out and braid it.

I got Maggie to pose for me although she wasn't happy about it. 

She was so hot. She'd mostly been playing some pretend thing in her mind, wandering about the yard and holding her dolly. Lily tried to convince her to smile and this is what that looked like. 

She's simply beautiful no matter what the expression on her face. 

I didn't get a picture of Gibson until they were back in the car. 

He was most happy to be out of the yard and into an air-conditioned environment. Between the bugs which adore him and the heat, he is not an outside guy in summer. But he's a sweetie and I love him so. 

So of course all of that was the highpoint of my day although I did have a good time, snapping green beans to put in ziplock bags. I got four quarts of those put into the freezer out in the garage. Such an easy task. While I snapped I watched the last episode of the latest season of "After Life" on Netflix. I know that a lot of people don't like Ricky Gervais but I do. And he seems to use many of the same actors on his shows which I admire. Loyalty. One of the characters on "After Life" is played by the same woman who plays Isobel Crawley in "Downton Abbey" which Mr. Moon and I have become slightly sucked into. She's a fine actress. 

I am sad to report that yesterday I thew out the remains of what Dottie was sitting on. I couldn't even bear to look at it too closely but it appeared to be something like a chick embryo but definitely not alive. She had gotten off the nest to go eat and I threw it away. It did not smell good. 
Today I cleaned out the nests and put down fresh straw and moved both she and Darla into clean nest boxes. Dottie has a new egg and I slipped it back under her while Darla seems to be sitting on the same two eggs which I also put back into her care. 
I would think it's just really too hot to hatch chicks in such an enclosed space but the two sisters seem undeterred. You have to give them credit for persistence if not for common sense. 
Well. They can't help it. It's all hormones, I'm sure. And I can relate to that. 

It rained about fifty drops and then stopped. It still sounds and feels and looks and smells like it's going to rain but I think it's passing south of us again. 

Hank and Rachel are and have been in the process of moving all day which is one of the most miserable things one can do. But as May pointed out- the nesting afterwards is so wonderful. I know they'll be ecstatic to lay their heads down in their new place tonight. 

And that's all the news from my microscopic piece of the world today. I'm off to make pizza now. I tried a different crust recipe and I don't know why. It doesn't seem nearly as lovely as the usual one I make. But one does try to attempt new things. 

Stay cool. Stay safe. Stay in. 

Love...Ms. Moon