Monday, June 1, 2015

Magic Hour

Lily and the boys and I went to pay a very short visit this morning to Lily's dear friend who gave birth last Thursday. I actually don't believe it's the right thing to do to visit brand new mamas unless you are only dropping off a meal and I wasn't but I so wanted to see this new child. He could not look more like his mother if she had cloned him and she herself looks that much like her own mother.
Strong genes there!
He's gorgeous, that little one, and we stayed just long enough to confirm that and then we left and met Hank for lunch at an Indian restaurant and I wasn't feeling very well, to be honest. Usually when I eat Indian food I want to rent an extra stomach so that I can keep eating but today it just tasted salty to me. Not that I didn't eat an entire plate. I did.
I'm not dead, y'all.
After lunch, the boys and I drove Boppy to the car rental place at the airport so that he could get his rental car to drive to Orlando. He drives a rental down and drives back in something he buys and every week it's a struggle for him to find a ride out to the airport and I didn't mind going. It was fun to have the boys along. They were, uh, talkative.
"Boppy! Boppy! Boppy!" 
Gibson claimed he had to pee halfway there (it's about eight whole miles) and Owen said he had to as well so we stopped at a convenience store and their grandfather took them in to use the bathroom and he said it was filthy and Gibson didn't really have to pee and I don't think he enjoyed the experience that much but he did it cheerfully enough.
After we dropped him off I drove the boys back to their house to stay with them for a little while and on the ride, they started talking about their dad.
"He's disgusting," said Gibson which made me laugh because first of all, I had no idea that Gibson knew what the word "disgusting" was and secondly, because Jason is so NOT disgusting.
"What does he do that's disgusting?" I asked. I had to ask. You know I had to ask.
They told me that he farts.
"Everyone farts," I said.
"Not you," said Owen.
"Yes I do," I said. "EVERYONE farts."
"Well he does it a LOT," said Owen whom, may I point out, will never, ever grow tired of telling the story of Boppy telling him to pull his finger.
Is all of this TMI? Am I shaming my family?
Oh hell. Everyone does fart. That is the truth of it. Gibson and Owen are no exceptions to that rule, trust me.
Also on the way back I saw a sign at a church and it said something like, "Staying in bed and saying 'Oh God' is not the same as going to church."
Did that mean what I think it means? That staying home and having a nice little Sunday sexy time is no substitute for church? I laughed at that too. And frankly, I don't believe it. But you know me- I think that weeding the garden is better for the soul than going to church so there is that.

Anyway, after their (absolutely not) disgusting father came home, I got in the car and drove back to Lloyd and took off my bra-like garment and put on my cargo shorts and went out and took a few pictures.

A little yellow squash that will be ready to eat in a day or two.

Portrait of yard-long beans with an orange cat who just happened to be walking by when I took the picture.

The cone of the male sago palm. Isn't it a fine and sturdy thing? It will grow even more manly in the next week or so.

Sago palms and porch with an orange cat who just happened to be walking by. Such a coincidence! Every time I turn around, there's Maurice! It is quite simply the strangest thing.

This morning I watched as Mama Hen did another child-education activity. She took the babies out and then left them where they were and must have told them to stay while she went and scratched with the other chickens for awhile. They chirped and chirped but didn't move and she kept an eye on them from a few yard's distance and the exercise didn't take long. She soon came and claimed them and they went off to explore the offerings of the ivy again but I am finding this fascinating, watching her teaching them how to be on their own, one very small step at a time. They still try to sleep under her wings although they are really much too large and she still lets them. I wonder how long that will continue.
Camellia is still laying an egg a day by the tools in the garage, seemingly completely unfazed by my collecting and tossing that pile of her eggs into the woods.

And now the shadows are growing longer. It rained again today and when I got home, the sky was angry-looking and it was thundering off to the south but it seems to have passed. The sun is out again, albeit growing lower in the sky, sinking beneath the trees.

Because I can't stop myself from being outside, here are a few more pictures I just took.

Mick the rooster. He is so much like his namesake that it makes me laugh. He is not the largest rooster in the world and he is a bit odd looking in some ways but he is quite possibly the cockiest little son-of-a-bitch you'll ever want to meet and he has some extremely fancy dance moves.

Miss Camellia, the garage-laying hen.

Nicey, Cha-Cha, Chi-Chi, and Lucille, posing in the light of the setting sun.

And here I am, home after a day of adventures and as always, when I drove home and got to the boundaries of Lloyd, my breathing slowed and my heart was made happy and when I pulled into my driveway and was greeted by chickens and duck and cat, I was at peace again.

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. Your home is a wonderful sanctuary, for the rest of us, too.

  2. I do most things fair to middlin' but I can fart like nobody I have ever known or likely will. If we ever meet I will let you listen.

    And that Muarice, the photobomber.

  3. 37paddington is right - I was thinking along the same lines, that your blog is an oasis for me during my days of stress with my elderly father who is very ill. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and for your ability to express them in a way that makes me smile today and other days cry.

  4. I love Angella's comment - your home IS very much a sanctuary for so many of us. What a lasting legacy you have spun.

  5. She's right! It's true! Every time I read your blog it's a little escape to Lloyd.

    It's so funny how Camellia still lays in the garage. She's found a place and she's sticking to it.

  6. First things first, there is no such thing as TMI. Especially not about farting.
    Also, I like it when people visit new mothers. New babies need to be welcomed into the world. The custom here is to visit only in hospital - the first four days or so - and then to leave them alone for a bit. I always make sure I get to that hospital. I never stay very long, but I welcome the baby and let the mother get her story out.
    When my daughter was born, it was a Tuesday or something, and just before Sinterklaas, and for many reasons hardly anyone came to visit in the hospital. I was a bit sad about that.
    As long as you don't stay for hours, I think it's better to show people too much attention and happiness for their baby than too little.

  7. Little boys sure do love farting and joking about it. I had to sit through a talk with the first grade teacher about that and not making farting noises using a hand cupped under armpits, it was embarrassing at the time. I think I would have just laughed at her now. Gail

  8. Humans fart on average 14 times a day, it seems. Tell Gibson that, it's *science*.

    That sago palm looks like Vegas.

    I'm pro-babymoon, me, but not if that mama is needing attention and adoration in the form of visits.

    Read the lyrics for Hozier's Take Me to Church for a perspective you'll like. Listening is wonderful too, the man is a star.

  9. I feel the same way when I hit the Wharton county line after a trip into the city. it's only a few more miles to my exit after that. I remember when my daughter was three she came out with a four syllable word which shocked me as much as the word itself (which I don't remember now what it was). And I think Mick is gorgeous.

  10. Sorry to be a copy-cat here, but I ditto the above comments that refer to your wonderful home as being sanctuary for all who visit! Delightful...simply charming in every respect. So gracious of you to share it with us. Thank you!

  11. Where are you? Are you okay? I have been sick and I am slowly coming back to life (said so dramatically) and I need to know you're okay and well I need your writing (said selfishly) and so please write.

  12. Angella- Thank you. And you know I love seeing your world too.

    Birdie- I'll take your word on the farting. Maurice is a photo-bomber, isn't she?

    jenny_o- Oh my goodness. Thank YOU!

    Elizabeth- Well. Here it is for now. I am so glad to share it.

    Steve Reed- And now you are a part of my Lloyd. I love that.

    Mwa- I suppose I am mostly talking about visiting new mamas in the home. Here they send mothers home on the second or third day and in my experience, the milk and the tears come in on the third day and I always wanted the peace and privacy of my own little home with my own little family during that time. But I understand what you are saying!

    Gail- If the armpit fart isn't what boys do, I don't know what is.

    Jo- I'll tell Gibson and Owen what you said. They will be astounded!

    Ellen Abbott- It's so funny how kids get some words just so perfectly and it blows you away. Mick is a pretty handsome beast, isn't he?

    Desiree- Aw. That makes me happy.

    Joanne- You were the third person to get in touch with me when I didn't post yesterday morning. It makes me feel so taken care of. Thank you.


Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.