Just...Life

This morning I could not think of one good reason not to take a walk but I could think of many reasons why I should (including my morning existential angst being up in the red zone), I got off of my lazy buttocks and walked to the county line and back. I saw No Man Lord and we waved and I saw the sweet man who has the motorized wheelchair in another neighbor's yard and we all waved, and I saw that plant you see above. Sorry that the picture is not very good but you can get a feeling of its brilliance. I used my plant identification app on it but I didn't really check it closely and when I got home I found out that it had NOT properly identified it but I'll try again soon. 

The magnolia grandifloras are blooming and yesterday evening my sweetheart brought two of the magnificent blossoms home for me. He tries to find some to pick for me every year around Jessie's birthday because the day she was born we had taken a walk around our neighborhood and he had picked me one which was in a vase of water in our room when she was born and I like to think that one of her first impressions on this earth was the scent of that magnolia. If so, it could explain some of her sweetness. 

I took this picture this afternoon and they have already passed their prime, having already let go of their tiny matchstick stamens. Their scent, however, is still strong and I had them on the little altar table in the hallway but I moved them into the kitchen where I spend so much time in order to enjoy every last molecule of their deliciousness that I am able to. 

It's been a rather lazy day for me, aside from my walk. The only thing I picked was a small head of cabbage which I used half of to make a sort of pickled slaw to go with the chicken enchiladas I am making tonight with leftovers from last night's roasted chicken. And oh- the roast function worked quite well! I was pleased. I've made up the filling to roll into the tortillas but I'm still not quite sure whether I am going to use corn or flour tortillas, salsa verde or salsa rojo. Because I am being lazy, neither one of those sauces will be homemade. I am not feeling the gourmet love tonight. 
Maybe tomorrow I will. 
And since we're talking about food (when am I not talking about food?) I will say that my egg-yolky lemon cake with lemon glaze would grant me easy admission into the old southern lady club. It tastes exactly like something a grandmother would make, perhaps for bridge club. It's moist and lemony, tart and sweet, yellow as the yellowest rose in Texas. 

This morning, Darla had ten eggs underneath her. I need to mark yesterday on the calendar and then the date three weeks from then as 21 days is about what it takes to hatch eggs once the mama has begun sitting. Think about that- three weeks from an egg that you would crack into a pan and fry to a perfectly formed baby peep with down,  tiny feet and wings, a voice loud enough to let its mother know if it is in distress, eyes, a beak that comes with an egg tooth that helps it get out of its shell, and the ability to follow its mother around, to copy her actions as she shows it how to scratch in the dirt to look for tasty things to eat. It's beyond amazing to my way of thinking. 

It is so pretty out this evening. The sun is shining through the new green of the oaks, the pecans, the wisteria, the magnolia. It's coolish and there's a sweet breeze. I can hear the chip call of the cardinals, a hummingbird is darting and dipping its beak into the nectar I have hanging from the bird feeder. I can smell the confederate jasmine. I am reading (with my eyes) the Lonesome Dove series and am about to finish Dead Man's Walk and move on to Comanche Moon. It is a very fine thing to know that I will be spending months with Gus and Call as they traverse the plains and the desert, facing bears and Mexicans, starvation, heat, freezing weather, boredom, terror, Comanches and Sioux, their own ignorance when it comes to survival, their fears, their attempts at finding love. 

I guess I better go figure out what sort of enchiladas I am making. 

Love...Ms. Moon