We drove home this morning through the piney woods beside the beautiful water, all the way back to Lloyd, sad to have left our beautiful "new hotel house" as we kept calling it because that's what Owen calls hotels but happy to be coming home. This weather is unbelievable and the golden rod and yellow black-eyed susans bloom along the roadsides and glow in the sun and the air is cool and there's not much not to love about it all.
We had such a good weekend. It was what we needed. Time together to relax and laugh and to love. We laughed a lot. Last evening my phone rang and it was Lily. She apologized for calling but said that Owen had something he had to tell me and of course, I wanted to hear it. He was almost screaming, he was so excited and as he spoke, his voice got louder and louder. One of the hens had laid an egg and he described where in the hen house he'd found it and that it didn't even break! and he was simply beside himself with the excitement of one of the hens finally, and at last, laying us a nice green egg.
"Tell Boppy!" he yelled. "Tell Boppy!"
"Do you want to tell him?" I asked.
"Yes!" he screamed.
So I handed Glen the phone and said, "It's Owen. I think he's drunk."
And I still can't stop laughing about that.
I'm not even sure why, but I just can't.
We got home and hit the ground running. Mr. Moon did something all afternoon with his four-wheeler and his deer feeder. Don't ask me. One of the other things that we laughed about all weekend was that I finally admitted out loud that when he talks about sports and hunting-related things I only hear blah-blah-blah-blah, like the voice of an adult on a Charley Brown special. I mean, it's just the truth. I TRY to listen but it all sounds like blah-blah to me. It's like trying to read the fine print on a contract. I am just incapable of any sort of true comprehension. So anyway, Mr. Moon did that and I unpacked and started laundry and so far I've done five loads including sheets and towels and our clothes from the weekend and I pulled some of the disastrously invasive potato vine and cleaned out the hen house and put in fresh straw in the nests and watered all the porch plants and then I got out the clippers and the Rubber Maid wheelbarrow and began my yearly cutting back of the Confederate Jasmine which grows on the chain link fence and it's not a hard job but it takes a long time and if I don't do it, the vine will no doubt take that fence down eventually. And the vine leaks where it has been cut, a nasty milky sap which sticks to my skin and my glasses and my overalls and I have to trundle it to the pile where we dump weeds and cuttings and I finally finished up and I am glad to have done it. Our sheets are clean on the bed and most of the laundry is done and I'm going to rustle us up some leftovers here in a little while.
I am so glad to have gone and I am so glad to be back. I am also so very glad to have more energy than I've had in forever and less pain, as well. So much for healthy living. All I did all weekend was eat outrageously delicious (and bad for me) foods and drink coffee and alcohol and fool around and sleep. The farthest I walked was a few blocks in Apalachicola, mostly to go eat more delicious and unhealthy food. Last night after our dinner, we came home and had a buffet of all the desserts we'd brought home with us over the weekend and there was pecan pie, a chocolate-caramel mousse thing, some ice cream AND key lime pie. I'm not even kidding you. It was awesome.
And that was AFTER eating scallops and fried soft-shell crab and potato salad which had to have been made with mostly sour cream and bacon.
Oh Jesus. I'm going to go to hell.
Oh well. They'll have to bring a fork lift to get me there.
The train is going by and the kids at the church next door are playing outside, their voices rising and falling and we're home. The firespike is still blooming and there was a beautiful mural on the wall in the entrance of the place we stayed and the artist had painted firespike with hummingbirds all over it and that made me so happy- I felt at home, every time I walked past it. If we do ever build our house in Apalachicola, I can take some of my firespike with us and also butterfly lily and the phlox, carrying all of them with me from this yard to that one as I have carried them here from other yards.
I do not think I will plant Confederate jasmine there though. No. I'm pretty sure I won't. But there will be bananas and a mulberry tree and perhaps a pear and a fig, hibiscus and roses and herbs in pots, perhaps. We shall see.
We shall see.
We went away, we came home. "That has been the best 29th anniversary I've ever had," my husband said as we were packing up this morning.
And right now I am thinking of the wish I always make whether on birthday candles or falling stars which is simply, "More, please."
More love and more time beside the water and even more laundry and more meals, both healthy and un-, more yardwork and eggs and phone conversations with my grandsons and more anniversaries, more of all of it, the crazy and chaotic dance of it all. That may be selfish but that's my wish.
Bring on the fork lift. There's lemon pie left in the refrigerator so yes, more of that too.