Yes, that is a bottle fly. Sometimes known as blow flies. And yes, they are nasty insects, attracted to feces, decaying animal flesh, rotting meat (what's the difference?) and the ubiquitous garbage. Oh, how we hate them.
And yet- look at those colors, that iridescence! Seen only as an object without judgement it is absolutely jewel-like. I could not help but stop and take this one's picture this morning.
And then I took this picture.
More mulberries! I am thinking I may indeed get a pie or two this year out of them. Maybe even a bit of jam. We shall see.
Here's another picture.
I think it is a white China rose, an old rose, an heirloom rose. I have written about this particular bush before. It was here when we moved in but in a different place. The former occupants had planted it in memory of a friend and the man of the couple told me that no matter what I did or did not do to it, it would not die.
After about a decade, I realized he was correct.
Mr. Moon moved it a few years ago because it was in his way when he needed to get his truck into the back yard. He replanted it beside the garden, right outside the gate and it has thrived there. It has dozens of blooms right now and as you can see, is starting to open. They are delicate blossoms, especially for such a hardy plant, and are so short-lived as to be almost useless to pick although sometimes I do.
After about a decade, I realized he was correct.
Mr. Moon moved it a few years ago because it was in his way when he needed to get his truck into the back yard. He replanted it beside the garden, right outside the gate and it has thrived there. It has dozens of blooms right now and as you can see, is starting to open. They are delicate blossoms, especially for such a hardy plant, and are so short-lived as to be almost useless to pick although sometimes I do.
I've had a ridiculously slow day. I've gotten a few things done but not much. I mopped the hallway which is already finely grit-coated with pollen as is everything in the house and outside. I swept up the library after Jack and Maurice got into a horrible fight in there, leaving wads of fur to float about everywhere. I broke the fight up in a matter of seconds (not with my hands- trust me- just my voice) but still, the fur had flown. I did some laundry, I swept the back porch. I transplanted a lily and a gardenia to the banana bed outside the kitchen where we had the cherry laurel taken down, hoping that there will be enough sun for them now. I've been yearning for a gardenia bush forever but there's never been a place with enough sun in the yard. Maybe now. If it fails, it won't be a matter of the richness of the soil there. That's where I've thrown most of the compost scraps for years and years and the dirt is as filled with earthworms as any I've ever seen with the help of the chickens. The bananas are starting to sprout new green stems and leaves from last year's stumps and I'm excited to see them grow, unshaded.
The chickens are in the back yard right now, some of them scratching in the rusty, brown fallen magnolia leaves. Many people hate these leaves because they just never do seem to decompose entirely and wherever they fall and accumulate is not going to be a place where grass or flowers grow.
I don't worry about it. It is simply the place where the magnolia leaves fall to me. We don't have grass anyway. The chickens do seem to love to scratch among them though and it makes quite a rustling noise. They kick, kick and back up a step to examine what they have uncovered, take two steps forward and repeat. They are thorough in their searching for tasty bugs. I have way too many chickens now, really, but there is a part of me that wants desperately for one of my hens to sit on some eggs and hatch them. I want to see babies in the yard, mimicking their mother with their own tiny peep feet. I had a memory on FB a few days ago from four years ago and the picture was of little Violet, attempting to sit on a huge pile of eggs. I knew I'd had her for a long time but was somewhat surprised to realize that it's been over four years.
Well, you can't force a hen into brooding any more than you can discourage one if she sets her mind to it. I would think that out of the fourteen hens I have, one of them at least would be feeling maternal. We shall see.
I don't worry about it. It is simply the place where the magnolia leaves fall to me. We don't have grass anyway. The chickens do seem to love to scratch among them though and it makes quite a rustling noise. They kick, kick and back up a step to examine what they have uncovered, take two steps forward and repeat. They are thorough in their searching for tasty bugs. I have way too many chickens now, really, but there is a part of me that wants desperately for one of my hens to sit on some eggs and hatch them. I want to see babies in the yard, mimicking their mother with their own tiny peep feet. I had a memory on FB a few days ago from four years ago and the picture was of little Violet, attempting to sit on a huge pile of eggs. I knew I'd had her for a long time but was somewhat surprised to realize that it's been over four years.
Well, you can't force a hen into brooding any more than you can discourage one if she sets her mind to it. I would think that out of the fourteen hens I have, one of them at least would be feeling maternal. We shall see.
I have noticed Fancy Pants trying several times recently to tell hens where to lay which is something roosters do. I think of it as mansplaining in the chicken sense. Perhaps he is feeling a paternal urge? His sex life would seem to indicate that, at least.
I ironed a few shirts, mostly because I just wanted an excuse to watch some of the last episode of Allen v. Farrow. I still have an hour left to go but perhaps it's good to break up the viewing into parts. It infuriates me so that when Dylan grew up and found her voice and wrote an article that was published in the NYT's about her abuse, that she was criticized and disbelieved again. And once again Woody trotted out the "I love my daughter and her mother coached her into saying these things," speech and even Ronan, when Dylan told him she was going to write the piece begged her to just let it go, "it's been twenty years- what's the point?" and so forth until she finally sat down and told him for the first time, what had happened and he read the actual court documents as an adult, a journalist, an attorney. Until then, Dylan never spoke about it very much, not to her siblings, her mother, even her therapist.
After she told Ronan her story, he changed his mind completely and helped her to get it published. And he has become one of the most dedicated advocates in the publishing world for women who have been abused by the rich and the powerful.
After she told Ronan her story, he changed his mind completely and helped her to get it published. And he has become one of the most dedicated advocates in the publishing world for women who have been abused by the rich and the powerful.
I was also struck by how Mia told her daughter that she was so proud of her, even though she knew that Woody was going to hit back at HER, which he did. And strangely, this woman who had garnered so many accolades in her career for her acting, was hardly ever hired again by American film makers. As Woody had threatened her would be the case. But she stood by her daughter, she stands by her daughter, she has continued her work with children all over the world, and perhaps most tellingly- she never brought another man home with her because she doubts her ability to be able to determine that any man would be safe with her children, her grandchildren.
I think about this. I think about one of my brothers who has told me so many times to "let it go." I truly do not think that he believes that what I have described to him is that bad. He married a woman who had been abused in many different ways and I do not reach the benchmarks, I suppose, that her abuse set.
I think about my own mother who told me, "I never knew," and who only once said that she was sorry that it had happened.
I think about my own mother who told me, "I never knew," and who only once said that she was sorry that it had happened.
Unfortunately, this is how it is for most survivors of abuse. And even as I write this, I wonder why I continue to talk about these things here. Should I just "get over it?" Should I also get over the fact that my mother could not admit that what happened to me had affected me deeply? Should I just get over my anger at her for allowing her husband to abuse not only me, sexually, but also my brothers in other horrible and extremely visible ways? Am I making people uncomfortable? Should I forgive and forget?
Oh. Don't you think I wish I could? Don't you wish that the legions and multitudes of people who were abused by adults whom they loved and trusted could simply forgive, forget, get over it, and get on with their lives?
I do.
Well.
Dylan seems to have an incredibly understanding and loving husband. In that, she is lucky. I have one of those men too. And yes, I am lucky. But wouldn't it have been better for these incredible men and for us if they and we hadn't had to deal with the damage done? In a way, even saying that we are so lucky to have found these understanding men implies the phrase, "Even though we are so fucked up."
I think so.
Here's a nice picture.
The library in the late afternoon.
And yes, I am so lucky.
Love...Ms. Moon
I think you are brave and smart and kindhearted and lovely. I am sorry for what that man did. It is not fair or right or ok what you have been through and have to deal with. I wish you only the best.
ReplyDeleteStephanie
Thank you, Stephanie but the numbers of people (mostly women) who have been abused is staggering. And every one of those humans has to deal with the trauma. It's mind boggling.
DeleteAlso- I adore the name Fancy Pants and when you speak of your chickens. We have 6 hens and they are the absolute best. If I work in the yard they follow me around. My dog Happy also teases them terribly. Chickens are such happy birds- if they have a decent rooster or none at all.
ReplyDeleteYep. I do not know what I'd do without my chickens. They are an important part of my life.
DeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Linda. I will indeed think about that.
DeleteI think it's a bluebottle, different name same scavenger insect. They have a job in the scheme of things, and they're beautiful.
ReplyDeleteAnd no, you should just keep saying whatever you need to. Who knows how many young girls might realize that what's happening to them is abuse, through reading your words. You give them the vocabulary to start protecting themselves. I'm beyond sorry you had to endure what you did. But writing about it is your right.
That's a beautiful library photo.
Those flies go by more than one name. Like vultures which we also call buzzards and which we also denigrate because of the invaluable work they do.
DeleteI don't know how many young girls read my blog but I do know I have gotten many, many emails from women (and from men) about the abuse that happened in their childhoods. Some had never spoken of it before. And I feel good about being a catalyst for someone to break the silence that imprisons them.
I'm sorry anyone has had to endure abuse.
I love the way that room looks in the late afternoon.
TRIGGER WARNING! I have a dear friend who was sexually and physically abused by her stepfather from the age of 10 to 16. She’s almost 40 and her mother is still married to the POS. Mommie Dearest (I know her and despise her, but that’s my issue) regularly asks why she has to ‘dwell on the past.’ Because he raped her with a screwdriver you idiot! She has flashbacks so badly that she sometimes thinks she’s messing up OUR lives simply by living. She has a wonderful trauma therapist, but this girl is literally ruined. I live in fear that she’s going to end it all someday. We talk every day and I make her promise to wake up in the morning. I’m sorry this is so heavy, Mary. Please feel free to delete my comment. This Woody Allen thing just pisses me off! Until the world learns to believe the child, we are fucked![
ReplyDeleteBless your friend and bless you for being her good friend, her dear friend. Just your obvious caring for her does more for her than you can know. Why do women stay with men who do these things? Her mother is a POS for sure and does not deserve the title mother.
DeleteWe need to believe the children and also- we need to believe the women.
Until I read the last section of this blogpost with all its weight and its shadows, I was going to say something silly about the vicious cat fight in the library and how it probably echoes typical daily events in Mr Steve Reed's school library. Library life can be violent and dramatic like that.
ReplyDeleteWe have plenty of drama in our library, but I suspect a fight between Maurice and Jack is far more violent than anything I see here!
DeleteI certainly hope there are no fights in Steve's library that result in flying fur!
DeleteANOTHER TRIGGER: I divorced my husband because his behavior was abusive and he did not think it was. He spanked the youngest every single morning for wetting her bed. That I knew about. He also made her sit outside with the sheet for a diaper. That I didn't know about; I was at work. He tricked them often to open their mouths for a squirt of "whipped cream" that actually was shaving cream. He tickled them mercilessly. Added to what he did to me, it had to end and I divorced him. When my girls were adults the youngest one told me that they were watching cartoons and she saw her dad get out his penis and put it under the older's skirt, who was on his lap. When I asked my oldest daughter, she said it happened. When my husband was gone, the little one quit wetting her bed. That spanking was the "best" attention she ever got from him.
ReplyDeleteMy youngest messed up her life trying to have a perfect family. The oldest has substituted her m-i-l for her mother.
I did not date or have men in the house until both girls were out of high school. I simply did not know how to find and select a new man. I do wonder if both of them faulted me for having him as their father or for getting rid of him. I seldom see them and when I do, they don't talk about it. So, neither do I.
I used to blog about this, but haven't for years, and most of the old posts are gone, to ease feelings. My ex died years ago; he was 45. So nothing was ever resolved. I wonder how one catches the "good decisions" in life.
Oh, dearest Joanne. I did not know these things. I have not been reading you long enough. What a horror! And I respect you even more, knowing you left the man. That could not have been easy. Thank heavens you did. And these things very, very often lead to families who distance themselves from each other. I suppose there are families which can resolve these things. I don't know. Mine certainly couldn't.
DeleteI surely do admire you for not dating or having men in the house until your daughters were out of high school. You were protecting them. But how unfair to you! The abuser denied you the chance to find a good man in those years. Someone who could have been a good father, a good husband. I often speak of the layers of the onion of abuse- the many, many consequences which come directly from it. It's overwhelmingly and powerfully horrible.
Thank you for telling me that. I love you even more.
You were abused and damaged as a kid. You have had therapy which is a courageous step for any abused person to take. You are not fucked up for knowing and understanding the lifelong effects of this, dealing with them from day to day and still managing to raise healthy children and grandchildren and for telling your history. You are not fucked up.
ReplyDeleteThank you, e. I am not as fucked up as I used to be, that's for sure, but I will never be entirely whole within myself. Not in this lifetime.
DeleteYou should talk about whatever you want to talk about. If you need to share these memories, then I will listen. It is okay to talk about it as it wasn't your fault. Just tell us whatever you need to tell us. Stay safe.
ReplyDeleteI am quite clear that none of it was my fault. I think that many abusers attempt to make the child feel as if it were their fault and there are plenty of mothers who want to blame the child as well. Guilt and shame are two very powerful silencing techniques. I will have nothing to do with that.
DeleteMy friend’s abuser threatened to kill her mother and brother and cousins if she told anyone. He actually abducted M’s cousin when she threatened to tell (at the age of 12!). Of course she relented and he took the cousin home, making her promise not to tell. M thinks he abused her, too, but they’ve never talked about it.
DeleteI am glad and grateful that you write about these things. I don't think we can ever truly process them otherwise. So, thank you. I love you and am glad that you are here, that you survived such terrible things and tell us about them. I love your whole yard and your flowers and the pollen-strewn floors and the books and the chairs and just everything.
ReplyDeleteThank you, sweet, sweet friend. You are a gift in my life.
DeleteI have no wise words about abuse.....I am lucky that the nearest I came to anything like it was when I was about 10, out on an errand to the local shop, and a man on a bike stopped and spoke to me and was rubbing my bottom. I was rooted to the spot but finally got the courage to move away and run home. As I said, it was nothing really, but I have always remembered it.I can't begin to imagine what you went through.....so I thoroughly agree with what Ellen and Elizabeth have said above here. We are your friends, so we will listen if you want to talk.
ReplyDeleteAnd THAT, too, is abuse. And I can bet that almost every woman alive on this planet has experienced at least one incident like that. And no, we NEVER forget because it is so frightening and so unbelievable and such a violation. It wasn't nothing, Frances. It should never have happened to you.
DeleteI have photographed many flies in our garden because I love that blue/green iridescence. To me they're just insects. I try not to attach any judgments to them!
ReplyDeleteI don't know if it's useful or even necessary to think about whether you "should" let go of your past abuse, or whether you "shouldn't" talk about it. The fact is, it still lives within you and you still deal with it. That's enough to justify writing and talking about it -- not that you really need to justify anything. I don't think I'm going to watch that Woody Allen program. I'm not sure I could stand it.
Let's celebrate the beauty of the blowfly!
DeleteYou're right- I no more need to justify talking about my abuse than I do about my memories of Roseland. They are both a part of me and why I am the way I am, both bad and good.
You SHOULD watch the documentary. Everyone should. We would all have a better understanding of how abuse can happen and what the consequences are for the abused, for the abuser, for the family, and how easy it is for someone, especially if they are rich and powerful, to deny and get away with it.
Sending hugs and love.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Lady!
DeleteYou can and should talk about anything you want. It's your truth. You may choose to forgive or not. That's up to you. My husband was extremely physically violent - maybe 2-3 times a week and I NEVER kept quiet about it. Only now, 10 years after the divorce and with him being back in the States, do I not think about it every day, and that anger does not consume me every day. I don't even hate him any more - I just think he's a pathetic, bullying nobody. Actually I think it probably helps so many others that you speak out about what you went through. Then they know that they are not alone, that they are not making it up and, hopefully, if they shout long and loud about it, someone will do something about these monsters that walk among us!
ReplyDeleteIt takes a lot of time and processing to reach a point, not of forgiveness, perhaps, but of coming to a place of a less painful acknowledgement. At least, in my experience. I respect and admire you for getting away from such a shit. You deserve the best of the best.
Deletewhat the fuck is wrong with so many men? I think we should do like the elephants do...all the girl elephants hang out together and the boy elephants are run off to live solitary lives. except for the good men. they can stay.
ReplyDeletebut joyful spring pictures.
It's not a bad idea and some cultures do adopt the separation of men and women.
DeleteYOUR pictures inspire mine!
Everything that Elizabeth said. You’re not fucked up, this world is. It’s heartbreaking and soul crushing. Like Ellen said, what’s wrong with so many men? I remember as a child my mother warning me in a vague way about a friends father and to not sit on his lap. Apparently it was well know that he liked to put his hands down little girls panties, yet there was no outcry, no shunning. I was still allowed to play at her house. Like it was acceptable and just a quirk.
ReplyDeleteI’m envious of those wonderful bookshelves! I so wish I had a library. Much love.
Xoxo
Barbara
I do not know what's wrong with so many men. Try as I might, I cannot come up with an evolutionary reason for pedophilia. As I have said before, sometimes even murder can be justified but the abuse of a child never can be. Ever.
DeleteAnd yeah- what the hell with that cultural thing about protecting men who are "just quirky"? At least that is something that we, as a society, can stop doing. If only we will.
I love my library. Just seeing it makes me happy.
No you don't need to stop talking about it; to get over it. You can only feel what you feel.
ReplyDelete