Saturday, April 9, 2016

Home Again

That's how blue the sky was this morning in Apalachicola and there are four people whom I love with all of my heart. The place we were staying is a restored cotton warehouse and mercantile, I believe, with a wonderful shop downstairs while upstairs is now four beautiful suites, each one with a complete kitchen and enough room to graciously live in.
It was a good 24-hour trip. Last night we had one of the most incredible dinners I've ever eaten and I have eaten some incredible dinners. The fisherpeople had caught grouper and sea bass and the restaurant right next door to where we were staying allows you to bring your catch in and they will cook it for you and so that's what we did.
I loved our waiter. He was gracious and smart and not the least bit obsequious and he worked with us and the kitchen to give us exactly what we wanted and then a whole lot more.
We got the sea bass sauteed with capers and artichoke hearts and it was absolutely perfect. The grouper we had two ways- blackened and grilled. Both as good as anything I've ever tasted. Everything was served family style- the garlic mashed potatoes, the basmati rice, the steamed vegetables. So, so perfect.
Of course the freshness of the fish had a lot to do with it but the chef did it all royal justice. Simple, elegant, lovely.
The Owl Cafe in Apalachicola, y'all. If you're in the area, go dine there. You won't regret it, even if you don't take your own fish. I promise. And save room for dessert.

This morning we ate our breakfast and strolled around town a little bit and went and walked on our property which Mr. Moon and his sister staked out this past week as to the footprint of the house.
This is getting real. Really real.
We stopped at Cafe con Leche and got coffee and then walked back to where we were staying. I packed up and came on home and all is well in Lloyd. I have the sprinklers on the garden and the baby chicks are alive and thriving, thanks to Hank who spent the night. I've unpacked and am just taking it easy, enjoying being home. It's supposed to get down into the forties tonight which will be very nice. This weather is about as perfect as Florida weather can get.

My heart is full of a lot of things and my mind is too. Mr. Moon will be home again tomorrow and it will be good to have him back. I was glad to be able to go to Apalach and spend time with some of my sweeties. It was such a joy being around August for an entire day. That boy shrieks like a seagull, like a pterodactyl, with joy and merriment and the goodness of life. He slobbers on my face, he explores my necklaces and bracelets, he carefully examines his grandfather's beard with great thoughtfulness. He flirts, he hugs, he bounces, he hides, he laughs out loud. He studies things with those big brown eyes and he is busy every second that he is awake. He is afraid of nothing and has no reason to be, having been cherished and loved on every second of his life. He is learning to eat- acorn squash and homemade applesauce from Vergil's mama's apples so far- but his mama's milk is still his favorite.

I feel a great and very real sense that as he is beginning the very first chapters of his life, I am living out the very last ones of mine. I am not at the end yet, but the end is something I can see from here.
This is a sobering thought and I want to make the very best of those years, whatever that means. I really have no idea but I am quite certain, as always, that the very core of them must be love in whatever ways it presents itself.

Oh, how wise I thought I would be by the age of almost sixty-two.
Oh, how silly I was to think that.

Yours in Love...Ms. Moon Who Really Does Not Know Shit


  1. I hear ya. I still feel good and am healthy and still do what I want but the end is far closer than the beginning. I'm a lot more mindful I think.

  2. Ellen Abbott- Thank you for saying this. I thought of you, actually and truly, when I wrote this post. How you are so strong and vital and full of plans and energy and doing your art and working in your yard and being a part of your grandchildren's lives. I wondered if you felt the same- if you, too, think about the years left to us as something we really need to pay attention to. I am glad to know that you do.
    Yeah. We have to be mindful, even as we go on with our lives.

  3. Since my father's stroke, I am ever mindful of how I live and love. His life changed in a moment. It made me hyper-aware of the fragility of our lives, and also our resilience, to be honest. It's good to live with awareness but still live joyously.

  4. It will be strange when you move. Not as near to the little ones on a daily basis. Not as near to your lovely mansion house you live in now. I hope you keep it and live in both. While I can relate to your comment on aging, I've been feeling sad in general and so the comment made me sad. On another day, maybe not.

  5. What a wonderful telling -- including that beautiful photo at the end. I bet you could craft a short story out of it!

  6. au contraire mon frere! You ARE wise. It occurred to me only yesterday as I lay gazing at big fluffy white clouds, that wisdom is only 1 thought away and that when we think it, when we "get there" we will laugh at our silly idea that we are not wise, that we do not have all that we need, that we indeed need only click our ruby red slippers and all that. These New Mexico skies! I can't wait to visit Appalach!

  7. I think you are far wiser than you know but the fact that you think you aren't makes you all the more wise. I am very tired today and have not been sleeping so I hope that sentence makes sense. When I read it I only sort of got my point across.

  8. Eesh, don't be getting all philosophical and fatalistic on me. I've just finished The Signature of All Things and I've had enough of that. I need something with a less realistic and happier ending right now, none of this Ending talk.

    I think you'd like the book, though, despite reservations about Eat Pray Love. This is fiction, and beautifully written and researched.

  9. I understand your feelings about life. I feel the same way, as if the end is closer than the beginning. It's weird to think so much time has passed. I used to think it would be fascinating to look back on decades and decades, but as it turns out, the decades longest ago begin to seem almost abstract, as if they happened to a totally different person. Know what I mean? (And I suppose they did, in a way.)

    Anyway, that's how it seems to me. For what it's worth.

    Thanks for the tips re. Apalachicola. I know I keep saying it but I really DO need to go there one of these days. Maybe this summer, if I get back to Florida.

  10. jenny_o- It's a hard thing to wrap our minds around, isn't it? That certainty that life can change in an instant.

    Joanne- Well, there is a sadness in the inevitability of it all. But it's something we have to accept, I suppose. Or not. Whichever, it's going to happen.
    I wish you weren't sad.

    Elizabeth- It's a ship's figurehead. I have always been enchanted by those things and wish I owned one!

    Yolie- When Jessie and I were in one shop, my favorite, I said to her, "Yolie would love this place so much!" She agreed. Can't wait to visit Apalach with you.

    Birdie- I have probably forgotten more than I can even imagine. This, too, is weird.

    Jo- I listened to the audio version of that book a while back. I loved it!

    Steve Reed- Makes perfect sense. Who WAS that person who had my name all those years ago? And it seems to me that the things I remember most are either ridiculously unimportant or way too sad. Not all of my memories but a lot of them. Yes. You would like Apalach!


Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.