Saturday, July 30, 2011


My Lord, my Lord, my Lord, I am suffering from lack of writing.
Owen has just gone home a little while ago. We played for twelve hours, that boy and me. The men worked out in the woods until they were dirty, beat and stupid from heat. Why? I have no idea but that's what they did.
Owen kept wanting to go outside and we did but I kept saying, "Come on, boy, it's too hot out here. Let's go inside."
And then I'd bribe him with cold juice and maybe he'd come willingly or maybe I'd have to snatch him up and carry him. He loves the outside as much as his Bop does.
As much as his Mer-Mer does. And he doesn't mind the heat as much as she does although every time we come in the house he goes, "Ahhhhh...."

Oh god, I am tired. Five hours of sleep last night and then an hour and a half nap with Owen today. He was asleep before I quit reading his books. And when he woke up- "Done!" and he got off the bed and opened the door to the bathroom for me to go pee and put my hair up, brush my teeth and wash my face. He knows my every move.

We played ball on the stairs and built trains out of dominoes and buildings out of blocks. We fed an apple to the mule and Owen said, "Crunch!" We fed grapes to the chickens and corn as well. We got tomatoes from the garden and we checked out the gourds and sunflowers and butterflies. We walked in the front yard, we watered the plants. He took my bamboo knitting needle and poked holes in the ground. We had smoothies and watermelon and sunbutter and peach preserve sandwiches. We did laundry together. We folded napkins together. He hit a tree with a whip of bamboo I snapped off for him. He rode his his little scooter-bike all through the house. We read books and we played peek-a-boo and he laughed so hard I thought he'd pee. Okay, maybe he did pee.

I talked to Jessie and to May and to Lily and to Hank. I called Hank just to say, "Hey. I miss you!" It was so fun being with him for a week. I miss Lis and I miss Jessie and I miss Vergil. Hell, I even miss the kittens. And I sure as hell miss that condo and the three flat-screen TV's and the banjo music and the guitar and mandolin music and I miss Eating Local which I did not cook.

I miss Kava.

But I'm cooking okra that our friend Tom grew and I'm about to cook some bream that my husband caught and hell, that's pretty damn Local.

The crickets and perhaps cicadas are singing so loudly I can barely hear myself think. My man, whom I have seen for approximately fifteen minutes, is probably flat-out asleep in his chair.

Okay. Time to go heat the oil to fry the bream. Time to make the grits.

I asked Owen today, "What lives in nests?"
He said, "Birds?"
I said, "That's right. But guess what? Squirrels live in nests too!"
He said, "No."
And I said, "Yes they do!" and he hugged me.

I'm home in my nest.

It's hot and buggy and I'm exhausted and happy.

Love to all y'all...Ms. Moon


  1. Isn't it hard to come back home and cook? One can be so glad to come back to home sweet home but the idea of physically cooking seems odd. The tools look new but are not. Falling back into the rhythm of life.....

    I am positive little Owen is tickled pink to have you back!

  2. Welcome back. Sounds like a whirlwind day.

    We ran into Hank at Samrat this afternoon. It was great to see him and get a hug.

    I'm still sick kind of, but it's all in my head. Literally. I have some kind of sinus deal, which is a new beast for me and I can't say that I'm enjoying it.

    See ya soon,

  3. Feel good post! His haircut is so sweet. It grows so fast!

    Local is the new black. Ha! I like that.

  4. Oh, Ms. Moon, what would happen to the beautiful boy if you were not around? I have had a blessed life and part of the reason is because of grandparents. I am sure they fell to bed exhausted when I left. I knew they loved me very, very much. I am 40 and still remember being about 3 and leaning against my grandpa's chest and listening to his heart beating. I remember trying to breathe the same time he did. And he had a garden and I followed my god around and worshiped him with my three year old heart.
    All my grandparents but one are gone now but I feel then with me. I keep a painting on my wall of my grandparents house. I feel glad and happy whenever I look at it.

  5. Oh my gosh, Owen looks suddenly like a boy, not a toddler. Wow. He's so handsome and big.
    You sure had a day mama.
    I bet dinner was delicious. I hope Mr Moon did the dishes, or that you guys just left them for tomorrow.
    I'm leaving mine.
    Sleep well Ms Moon.
    You amaze me.

  6. "Crunch!"

    Oh, he's so adorable and such a boy, definitely not a baby anymore. Don't you just love every new word he says???

    Welcome home, Mary Moon!

  7. Fabulous haircut on Owen! Glad you're home safely.

  8. Yes, it's bizarre how young Owen is in years, compared to how old he is in all the rest.

    What a great post and day :)

  9. welcome home! i love owen's hair!!!


  10. Waylon wakes me up every morning with "hey daddy!" And then he throws my shorts and a wife beater in my face. Then he brings me my flippy floppies. They know us.
    Daddy b

  11. Loved your stories on the road and love seeing back home. He is growing, growing into his boyness.
    x0 N2

  12. Sounds like a very full day. Time for some catch up rest.

  13. Ellen- Owen IS glad to have me back. This is true.

    Ms. Fleur- Are you on antibiotics?

    Ms. Trouble- Asheville is full of those signs.

    Birdie- That makes me happy.

    Bethany- Mr. Moon did the dishes. After I broke down. And went to bed.

    Lulumarie- I do love every word he says.

    NOLA- Thank-you, darling.

    Vida- Hello! What a beautiful blog you have!

    Mrs. A- Lily and Jason gave the boy that hair cut. It's very good, I think.

    Daddy B- Yes. They do. To a disturbing degree.
    Hey. I love you.

    N2- It's so true. But he's still a huggy bug and I am so glad.

    Syd- No rest for the damn wicked. I am not kidding.

  14. I love you too, sweet mm.

  15. I'm glad you got back safe and sound to your nest. I love you.


Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.