Saturday, May 30, 2015

Is That A Cucumber In Your Pocket Or Are You Just Glad To See Me?

This has been one of those days which I hope to remember on my death bed because it will make me smile to remember simply for the pure uneventful miracle of it. It has been one of those days that Emily talked about from her grave in "Our Town." Nothing special happened at all. There was coffee and cantaloupe and a ham sandwich and weeding and the making of bug spray and the spraying of beans with it and the picking of cherry tomatoes and a cucumber and the watering of plants and the gathering of eggs and the sight of chickens scratching and laying in the dirt, their long chicken legs spread out, their wings unfolded to catch the sunlight, unlikely pinup gals, glamourous in their shining feathers.

I just kept moving from one thing to another and I hung the clothes on the line and gathered them in, the towels rough and sweet. I folded them and put them in the basket and brought them in and put them away. I took the trash and the recycle and I went by the post office. I trimmed the sago palms and the Canary Island date palms and I noticed something today that I have never noticed before which is what the sago's new fronds look like as they unfurl.

Those beautiful notes of uncurling softness. They will lose their softness and become the horrible pricking things which attack me as I trim them but in that stage- oh my god. How have I never seen this? How?
I do not know. But now that I have, I hope to remember it every spring, to note it, to admire it, to enjoy it.

I went next door to the abandoned house and dug up a ginger lily and purloined hydrangea blooms.

I came home and planted the ginger lily and put the blooms in water where hopefully, they will root. Such blue and purple!
I didn't get the breakfast dishes washed until just a few minutes ago. So what? So what?
And now my husband is home and he is happy after spending a day with Vergil and Jessie and helping them with their house. And look what he brought me.

"Where did you get them?" I gasped when I saw them. They are perfect in every aspect. They smell like heaven and glory and Buddha baby and lemons and Jessie's birth.
"I stole them," he said and I laughed.
Stolen flowers are making my house beautiful. And no one in this world will suffer for their loss but oh, how I am loving their presence here.

I have enough leftovers from last night to make another shrimp salad for us and there will be sweet yellow cherry tomatoes and the still-warm-from-the-sun cucumber in it. There will be bread.

That's it. That has been my perfect day.
Dirt and light and chickens and cat and plants, and rosemary oil and Dr. Bronner's soap sprayed on bean plants. The coolness of water through a hose, sprayed upon thirsty plants. Laundry hung on a line. A body that did not grow weary or overheated. Not once.
Very few words were involved. Not spoken ones, at least. I have kept constant quiet counsel with myself and this little bit of land I get to tend.

Peace. Contentment. Sweetness.

A day so ordinary that it could easily slip by unnoticed and un-noted. But so representative of the things I love that I can not let it do so.

And there it is- this small story of this small day.

Thank you for sharing it with me.

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. What a lovely day, mine has been almost as glorious too, ordinary but wonderful, with all the laundry done too! I would steal a magnolia from anywhere, there is no more heavenly scent as far as I know. In Savannah the air was thick with magnolia blossoms, and I was in heaven. I've been bringing in iris, lilac and rose and it has been very fragrant and relaxing here. Almost lush. We are soaking it in, aren't we? Xo

  2. Mel- Yes! And how righteous it is to do so!

    Allison- It is. I swear.

    Ellen Abbott- You know exactly what I'm talking about, Sister Woman. You artist you. You know.

  3. The smell of all the blossoms in my yard is so very wonderful right now, with a high note of lilacs supported by the violets and dandelions and forget-me-nots and million other tiny wildflowers...I am a privileged person, a fairy in disguise, a most blessed woman... and the thunderstorm came at the end of the day and has cooled everyone off and watered all the beautiful young hopeful plantlings...good night!

  4. How wise you are to note it while it is happening, the goodness of it. It is a day infused with the love that was expressed in your home last evening. Simple tasks. Wholesome. Beautiful.

  5. currently my favorite flowers are the ditch irises we dug from the tony's mom's neighbor's house, which was abandoned at the time.


  6. The way you describe your 'ordinary' days are just freakin' beautiful! Here we had unrelenting rain and thunder and all I wanted to do was sleep. But hearing about your day gives me hope that we just may see some sun tomorrow!

  7. And the best thing is that you have written about your beautiful day so that not only do we get to share it, but you will NEVER forget it because you can read about it again ...

  8. And thank you for sharing it.

  9. That does sound like a perfect day. Thank you for sharing it with us. I am going to bed now and am grateful that this is what I'll go to sleep to --

  10. And thank you for sharing your perfect day with us! I feel like I'm there, I really do. I love the flower thievery. :)

    And aren't sago palms supposed to be prehistoric survivors? You can almost imagine a dinosaur peeking out from behind those curled fronds.

  11. And those are the best days of all...

  12. Big Mamabird- I like to think I could name the season simply by the smell of the yard. We just got a beautiful little rain today and I am so happy.

    Angella- It was, for me, a very holy good day.

    Mrs. A- I love bringing home plants from the wild and abandoned places. They make me so happy.

    Catrina- And today it has rained here and oh, how sleepy I got!

    jenny_o- I almost NEVER go back and read my old posts but I could!

    Mwa- And you are welcome!

    Elizabeth- Aw. That is such a nice thought. Thank you!

    Steve Reed- Yes! I think they are and they are not palms at all, really. Very old, very primitive. I love the old plants. Ferns too. And I always imagine dinosaurs peeking from behind them.

    t- Amen!

  13. "The magnolias smell like Jessie's birth"...that is one of the most beautiful thoughts I've ever read.

    You don't read old blog posts??? Damn, woman, you are missing out on some mighty fine writing!


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