Ramble, Ramble, Ramble

I talked to Mr. Moon and Owen just a few minutes ago. They are on their way home. They did have a good time despite the fact that they couldn't go offshore due to wind. 
Safety first!
They went over to the island and checked out the house. Mr. Moon said that there's more that needs fixing and repairing than ever and that of course all the food has expired. Dog Island is never easy and we've absolutely let it get away from us. The washer and dryer which are under the house, which is on stilts, got flooded during a hurricane and need replacing. I think the oven does too, just from age. The stove top works but it's never worked very well and I doubt that it's gotten any better lately. He reported that the AC works and I think we still have water. For any of those who are newish here, we have a little cabin on a barrier island not far away to which there are no bridges and no regular ferry service. One has to haul everything that may be needed from drinking water to appliances and furniture and food and- well, everything- on a boat. And then haul the stuff from the boat to the house. There is nowhere to buy anything at all on the island. No commerce whatsoever. So you bring it or you do without. 
When I talked to Owen he said that just being out on the boat was so much fun for him. I asked him if being at the Dog Island house brought back any memories. 
"So many," he said. I remember him there as a little boy, running wild and playing in the sand and in the bay. I hope we can get the place back up and running because all of the grandchildren deserve to visit there, to experience Florida as it really is, or at least was, mosquitos, snakes, gators, raccoons, and all. To hear the wind singing through the pines, to learn to catch supper out of the bay, to have absolutely nothing to do except read, nap, take walks, swim, and play cards. 

I've had a very quiet day and have done essentially nothing. I spent hours and hours looking at Airbnb and VRBO to try and find a place for Mr. Moon and I to stay when we make our visit to North Carolina this summer to visit Jessie and Vergil and the boys who will be staying on their property up there in their new (to them) RV. 
God knows we can't make it an entire two months without seeing them. I am so glad they get to go, that they get to visit with Vergil's family, that they can work on the house that they are building. The boys have their mountain cousins, their mountain grandmother and grandfather who all love them. Their other grandmother is a musician and teaches them to play instruments and she is an amazing artist and a true master gardener. And how beautiful that they can hike around the mountains, go swimming in the cold rivers, stand under waterfalls and  visit the cool towns of Black Mountain and Asheville? 
Having said all of that, Mr. Moon and I are already pre-grieving. Thus, the need for a plan to visit. 
I still don't have a place for us to stay. There are literally hundreds of "cozy cabins" and "cozy cottages" to rent and my head is reeling. My main problem is that I am awful with maps. Is this seemingly perfect place ten miles from where Jessie and Vergil are or is it twenty-five? I have no idea. I need help. 

I did manage to pull the rest of the collards and kale. They were beyond bug-laced, giant and tough. Here's what I saved for our last meal of greens from our garden for the year. 

Such sorrow to see them all go. But soon, with some luck and a lot of work, we'll be eating tomatoes and cucumbers, peppers, and squash, field peas and okra. And the potatoes are definitely ready to dig. I think we're going to get quite a few of those. I need to pull the rest of the carrots. And celery? 
Oh, honey! It is getting big and is still tender so my hopes are high. 
But how much celery can one eat? That will be the question. 

The mulberry preserves I made yesterday are far from satisfactory. I think I really should have used more sugar. I've created mulberry syrup. Well, it will be good on pancakes. 

So here's a mystery- remember my foot that I self-diagnosed as being afflicted with plantar fasciitis? The bottom of my foot hurt then and it has been getting better and better. And now, all of a sudden, the TOP of that foot hurts like hell. It just suddenly started hurting last night and I've done nothing to injure it. In fact, a few days ago I was searching for Flonase in my bathroom and pulled out a drawer in the old wooden cabinet that holds my sink and all of my stuff 

(This drawer, to be specific)

and as I have done several times before, I yanked too hard and the whole thing pulled out and landed on my OTHER foot which is slightly swollen and appropriately tender but it's the seemingly uninjured foot that really hurts. 
WTF, people?!

So I'm limping around like an old nag ready to be delivered to the glue factory, feeling extremely elderly. Jessie was telling me the other day that she'd seen the man who had been our next door neighbor when she was very young and they'd talked and he kept saying how weird it was to be getting old and how so many people he knew were dying and I said, "You know why old people talk about all that so much? Because it IS weird and we never really expected it!"

We knew logically that old age is something none of us escape unless we die before we get there and we were aware that old people bitch about physical complaints all the time but somehow we all think that either 

A. It won't happen to us somehow, or 

B. If it does, we won't go on and on about it. Who wants to hear about the decrepitude of old age? 

HahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaHA!

It really is rather shocking, the changes that occur. Not to mention painful and embarrassing. Yes. Embarrassing. You think we'd wear these age spots and wrinkles and saggy skin if we had any choice? 

These are not things that our culture approves of. 

Well, that's enough of that. I do want to mention that the picture I posted yesterday of the stained-glass cloth hanging on the line was actually a napkin. It was one of the set I found AT THE DUMP that day I found the little Fiesta Ware pitcher and the beautiful cake stand. Which makes the picture even more of a good illustration of the small and prosaic miracles we encounter daily. 

I'd also like to say that Mr. Moon told me that Owen is a good boy which is high praise. And also that Owen thanked me for the cookies. He IS a good boy. 

All day long I've thought it was Sunday. It's going to be shocking for me tomorrow when I wake up and it's still Sunday. And oh yeah, Mother's Day. I've told my kids that I know they love me and to enjoy their lives and that would make their mother happy. 

And I mean it. 

I am quite aware that I am a mother. It's not something I'd forget. 

Love...Ms. Moon