I had the very best time. The play I saw at the Monticello Opera House was "Dearly Departed," a comedy set very much in the south and so you know the phrase, "Bless our hearts," was involved. And I think it was the best play I've ever seen at the Opera House and I have to admit there are a lot I haven't seen but, still. This one was just terrific. All of the actors (some of whom I have worked with before) were wonderful, just true blue in their roles and I didn't feel a false note in the whole production.
It was a joy to be there.
And it was a joy to see people, too. As I KNEW it would be. And yet I will admit that right before I left the house, I thought about calling Judy and Denise whom I had arranged to meet, to tell them I just couldn't make it.
I'm so glad I didn't.
I can go out in the world. I can. And maybe because I don't do it that often, it is all the more special when I do.
It's been a good, easy day. I did work in the garden some, although it was mostly cheat-gardening in that I planted peppers and eggplant and onions in a space that Mr. Moon had already laboriously weeded and tilled. I started in on weeding in order to make room for the squash and beans but it was hot and and I wilted and vowed to begin again tomorrow. And then I took a nap.
I let the baby chickens out into the big coop and I filmed this tiny video to send to my husband to show him how happy they were.
And they were happy. And Nicey even came and pecked my red toenails. She (or he?) is obviously the boldest of the chicks. I had scattered some cut-up grapes outside their little pen to entice them to go through the door and they did but after all the grapes were eaten, they went back and huddled in the tiny shelter. I kept checking on them throughout the day though, and eventually they made their way back out and were scratching and doing all sorts of chicken-related activities and it just made my heart lift to see them. As did finding a nest I'd overlooked in the henhouse with four beautiful eggs in it and then two more, later.
A good chicken day here in Lloyd.
We have bluebirds. I don't even know how many couples. At least two. They flutter around like crazed extras in a Disney movie and the males poop all down the side of my car, pecking at the side view mirror, determined to chase away their reflections. Bluebirds definitely do not understand the concept of mirrors. I will never get over how very blue bluebirds are. They feel like a feathered blessing as they dive and swoop and perch on the pecan branches above me as I walk from house to chicken coop, from chicken coop to garden.
And so it has been. A day to stay home and then to go out. A day in which I wore overalls and then showered and changed into my jeans and silk shirt, painted my eyelids with a swipe of shine and put on my earrings to go out and enjoy some delicious community theater. A day to dig in the dirt a little, to delight in my chickens a lot, to get to talk to some people I love, to see what some of them have created with their hard work and talent.
A day to get pictures like this from my husband:
Dog Island at sunset.
And WHY don't I go there more often? Or maybe LIVE there?
I blame the poltergeist who lives in the house and hates me. Maybe it will depart with the new stove. Although I doubt it.
All right. It is almost tomorrow.
Time for sleep. Tomorrow I will get those beans planted or know the reason why! And the reason why may well be that I couldn't get everything weeded. Oh well.
Digging in the dirt is a joy in itself and every time I stick my gloved fingers into it to make a place for a plant, I think about a midwife, preparing a woman for birth, pulling on the perineum to stretch it slowly and patiently to allow the baby's head to emerge.
Yeah, I'm nuts but no, I'm not. At least that's what I tell myself.