Sunday, November 2, 2014

Mixed Emotions

Clear and cool and the dropping leaves allow the sun so shine on the porch so brightly it'll blast your eyeballs and we had sweet potato, apple, pecan pancakes this morning.

When baking sweet potatoes, always throw in an extra or two for pancakes and muffins. That is my advice. Or soups. Or curries. Or whatever. Sweet potatoes go in everything.

I feel like we're running late because of the time change and I don't like that. Supposedly Mr. Moon is going to bring the plants in this morning before we go to Waylon's birthday because he's going to be gone for most of the next month, really, hunting in Georgia and in Canada and it'll probably freeze during at least part of that time and I can't bear to lose my beloved plants. This way I won't be faced with plummeting temperatures and nothing but blankets for the plants. Some of them are just too heavy for me to move and some of them even require him to use a little hand-truck thing or whatever you call it. My split leaf philodendron, the mango I started from a Roseland seed, my giant begonias, my bird's nest ferns. These are the ones that leave me crying and cursing in the cold twilight as I try to figure out what to do with them to save them, he with his strong arms and back far away and doing me no good whatsoever.


But not this year. Right?

I do not really like winter so much. I hate being cold. I hate wearing socks. When I wash my face in the morning the water is icy, that bathroom being one quarter of a mile from the water heater. I would waste gallons and gallons of water waiting for it to heat up and I refuse to do that just to wash my face. A startling way to wake up.

Maurice killed a bird last night. It broke my heart. A brown thrush sort of bird and there you go with cats- one minute they are all soft fur and velvet, the next they are killing machines, tearing into the soft breast of a song bird, feathers flying. They are as much a conundrum as humans are.
As much as mysterious mix of god and demon.

And so it goes on a Sunday morning, time all changed up by us gods who simply turn back our clocks and say, "Look! We have the power to change time!" while the chickens fretted in their coop, kept enclosed an hour later than usual as we dawdled over our pancakes, reading the paper, drinking coffee, safe in our knowledge that we'd created this new pocket of time to do with as we wanted.

They know better.

And so do we.

I feel as if I am late. Among other things. That I feel, that is. Some of them good, some of them as frightening as the tooth and claw of a cat.

Good morning.

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. a mix of god and demon. just like us. probably why we make them our companions. my plants won't come in until we are threatened with a freeze. at least this year the plumerias won't be a hassle to bring in, so tall trying to maneuver them through the door without breaking any of the branches off since they all but one froze back after that late March hard freeze. Emma the cat hasn't killed a bird since the wren she killed and brought in years ago that I stepped on in the dark hearing the crunch of it's tiny bones. she's hell on the anoles though. and I don't like winter either for all the same reasons.

  2. good point about time change. it seems futile to think that in this day and age, moving the hands on the clock one way or another makes any damn bit of difference.

    hope y'all get your plants in before it chills hard.


  3. I just now found a mouse stuck in a trap in the basement bedroom. One of the few times I use the girl card is when we have an unnaturally large bug or an indoor varmint. So, patient husband heaved himself out of his easy chair and took it away.
    I don't like killing anything, but a mouse in the area where the grandkiddlies sleep is unacceptable.

  4. Your pancakes fascinate me. I know that sounds like crazy blog adoration (and it's sort of true). All my pancakes turn out like shit. Share your recipe, please!

  5. I believe it was Terry Pratchett who said, "If cats looked like frogs, we would realize what horrible killing machines they are." But thank goodness, because I suspect we would have been wiped out by vermin without them.

  6. Face wash: Can you manage to find an electric kettle at the Goodwill or somewhere? Plug it ito the socket next to the bathroom (NOT in the actual bathroom), half-fill, mix boiling hot water with cold water in the sink ... at least that's what I do in winter).

    Keep warm

  7. Ellen Abbott- I've left out all the plants that I can bring in myself. It is only the huge heavy ones that I needed help with. And He is sure to be gone when we get the first frost. Ah cats. What can we do but love them?

    Mrs. A- All of the ones I can't carry by myself are in.
    It's a comfort.

    Marty Damon- Don't tell Mr. Moon I said this but I have always believed that one of the main reasons to be married to a man is to have someone to deal with the dead animals.

    Ashley- I will do a post soon on my pancake recipe. I promise.

    Mr. Downtown- As usual, you have the perfect answer to such deeply mysterious questions. I love you, baby.

    Regine- Too much work! I will just continue to wash my face with icy water and Dr. Bronners. And I will bitch about it. I don't even know where the stopper of my sink is. Sigh....

  8. The Ungrateful Bastard killed a hummingbird once and that was the last straw. He is now an inside cat but still manages to escape and spend a great deal of time outside killing.

  9. Cats are a conundrum, it's true. I always had indoor cats, so that remedied the songbird problem, but then I always felt a little sorry for them, always looking out the window at what they couldn't have. (I lived in New York City at the time, so there was no other option!)

  10. ditchingthedog- I would expect no less from the Ungrateful Bastard.

    Steve Reed- I cannot abide a litter box. That is a deal breaker for me.


Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.