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My husband is the envy of many men. I wish I could say that it's because he has such a stunning and amazing wife but sadly, it is not. It's because of his garage. The Garage Mahal, as it is fondly known around here. It has as many bays as some professional garages and I'm not kidding. At this moment he has three cars (all project cars), a giant boat, two freezers, one refrigerator, tools and implements and things too various to mention, and all of the things you see in that picture. Golf cart, Go Kart, two lawnmowers. Today he needed space to work on a car he recently bought that he plans to drive to Tennessee so he had to move all of those smaller riding things out in order to move the car in. When I went outside to clean the hen house this morning, the sight of all of those...things? made me laugh and so I took their picture. 

Here's another picture I took. 

Miss Dottie decided to explore the porch today. You may be able to see that there is a dog door there and underneath it, a torn screen. The cats come in, not through the dog door, but through the screen and this morning my curious little hen made use of the hole herself. She did not stay long as there was no food here but we had a little chat before she left to join the rest of the girls. 

Jessie and Levon also came by for a visit today but they came in through the kitchen door as usual and they did find food. We had another lovely leftover buffet of leftovers from the veggie platter I got at the Greek restaurant yesterday and the enchiladas we had the other night. Levon had part of a leftover pancake with peanut butter on it but he wasn't very hungry and didn't eat it all. He still has his cold or whatever it is that all of the grandchildren have had recently and dammit, I am almost certain I'm coming down with it too. 
It was inevitable. Jessie and Lily have been so thoughtful about offering not to come out or let the children be around us but I just can't say no when it comes to being in their presence. When I went over and stayed with Lily's children last week for a little while, Maggie was just coming down with it and Lily had warned me and said that if I didn't want to be exposed she could try and get off work early but I told her, "Nah, I just won't get too close to them," and then of course I snuggled up with Maggie in the bed and read her a book. I cannot keep my distance from them and if they want to snuggle, well, we will snuggle. 
So I was asking for it and here we are. 
Ah lah. 
I've made a huge, huge pot of turkey soup today. Hell, I even bought a turkey breast yesterday at Publix for it because when I boiled the carcass from Thanksgiving, I realized it had hardly any meat on the bones. So I cooked the breast and added the broth from the skeleton and it's now a nice soup with celery and onions and garlic and tomatoes and green beans and corn and greens from the garden. Also juice from one of Jessie and Vergil's giant Meyer's lemon-like citrus fruits. I just added a few handfuls of brown rice and we're going to have that for supper because there will still be a goodly plenty to send up to Tennessee. Tomorrow I will make the soul-sustaining cookies I always send him off with and yes, a loaf of sourdough. 

I've been listening to a Mormon Stories podcast on and off all day long and it's an interview with a woman who was sexually abused by her father when she was young. A Mormon Stories podcast can be hours long and that's one of the things I love about it. John Dehlin gives his guests plenty of time to tell their stories in depth and it is the stories that I am so interested in. People's stories. As Yoko Ono said, everyone has a story to tell. 
And this woman definitely has a story to tell. As she says in the interview, "Everyone's experience is unique," and that is true. The details of every molestation are different but there are truths at the heart of all of them and as I've listened today, I have pondered that and as always when I hear a survivor's story, I am able to see my own story through a sharper lens. And one of the most important aspects of this woman's story is that secrets are what allow these things to happen and that secrets are what prevent healing. 

That is a powerful and eternal truth. 

Another day in my life. The joy of it, the ordinariness of it, the ridiculousness of it, the glory of it as I've noticed how the sun seems to light up the Japanese Maple all through the day, making it glow with almost preternatural beauty. 
This life is something, isn't it? 

Love...Ms. Moon

This Could Be The Last Mattress We Will Ever Buy. That's A Strange Thought

 Different varieties of camellias are beginning to bloom and as the hip young people say these days, "I'm here for it!"

Of course I'm here for it. Where else would I be? But if you are thinking of the definition of the term which is to be excited and enthusiastic about something, I'm here in that way 100%. Which is another thing that the cool kids all say now. Perhaps this is my favorite time of year if I do have a favorite time of year. I'm not dying of heat every time I walk out the door and the camellias are blooming and we are getting delicious salads from the garden where the bugs and weeds are in their seasonal suspension and abeyance. 
Spring is pretty nice too, though. 
Still...camellias!

Mr. Moon and I went mattress shopping today. We knew we wanted another Tempur-Pedic because we love the one we have now. For those of you who may have missed the big alert, we are moving into a different bedroom so that Mr. Moon can use the one we're in now for an office. The mattress we sleep on in that room, the old Tempur-Pedic that his sister gave us, is so heavy that we decided just to buy a new one for the other bedroom where the mattress is destined for the dump. My husband and I started out our life in this house sleeping in the bedroom we're about to move back into and we never did move our closet contents to the other room so it's ready and waiting except for the mattress situation. It's much smaller but it's more private because it's the furthest back bedroom in the house. Not that we have too many random people walking about our house disturbing our privacy but, you know. It feels cozy. Also, it is situated right between our bathrooms which is supremely convenient. The only downside is that August and Levon's little beds that they sleep in when they spend the night will not fit into the room as well. Maggie actually sleeps on one of those beds in our room too, so she will be affected. But we'll figure it out and none of them are going to want to sleep in Mer and Bop's room forever. 
Hopefully. 
All of this is why we went mattress shopping. Although we knew what brand we wanted, god knows you can't just order one over the phone. They make about as many different versions of the things as there are camellia varieties, plus different levels of firmness. 
It is complicated.
So we went to a furniture store which carries Tempur-Pedics and were greeted at the front of the store by a sales associate who led us through about half an acre of furniture back to the bed area where we began the process of lying on the different mattresses and getting prices and so on and so forth. 
This took quite awhile. I mostly just let Mr. Moon decide because I can sleep anywhere as long as the sheets are decent and I have my forty-year old pillows and a cat and a fan. He is far more sensitive than I am when it comes to things like mattresses and honestly, the one he picked out seemed excellent to me. 
But then of course, he had to go another store where we end up getting all of our appliances. They are local (and so is the other store) and we have sort of a relationship with them or anyway, my husband does. And he worked out a better deal there although we'll have to wait longer for the arrival of our new delightful, wonderful, heavenly bed. Which is fine. 
After our shopping we went to lunch which was really nice. "Our life is great," my husband said to me as we sat down at the table. 
And it is. All those years of backbreaking work running businesses and raising children and, and, and...
And now we can have lunch on a weekday without a care in the world. It's a beautiful thing. It felt almost romantic, picking out a new marital bed and going for Greek food afterwards. As I have said so many times, I never envisioned living to this age and the idea that I would, AND have a loving and sweet and kind and funny husband (also handsome) never crossed my mind. I thought I was destined and fated for sorrow and loneliness and I am well aware that that could still be my future but for now- I am the luckiest woman alive. 

That loving, sweet, kind, funny, and handsome man will be leaving for Tennessee on Thursday to go hunting with an old friend and I will cheerfully wave him off after kissing him good-bye. I will send him with soup and with cookies, of course, and maybe even a loaf of bread. 
"Don't they have restaurants in Tennessee?" I asked him. 
"Not where we're going," he said. 
Okay. I will be happy at home, loving my camellias, eating Le Sueur peas, and watching tacky TV shows. 

It's a good life. A very good life. 

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. I suppose I should point out that Tempur-Pedic is in no way, shape or form paying me for this deeply felt and honest praise of their product.
I fucking wish they were. 

A Sunday Of Sweetness

We had such a good time with our Gibson. He's just the sweetest boy. He did tell me this morning that next time he's over he'd like to try a different meal- cheeseburgers! 
Well, cheeseburgers it shall be! 

Last night he was very happy that Jack wanted to sleep with him. 

Here he was last night as he and I were negotiating turn-out-the-light time. 

After pancakes and some more Wii and a little Go-Kart driving, I took him home and while we were on our way, I told him that I had enjoyed having him over so much and that I love him so much. He told me that he had enjoyed being with us and that he loved me and then I said, "Each of my grandchildren is so different and I just love each one of you in your differences. You are all so special in your own special ways."
Gibson said, "Mer, are you crying?"

And I said, "Oh, you know me. I'm just a crier."

He told me that he is too and we both agreed that we cry because we have big emotions and I told him that that was good. 
And I believe that. 
Some of my grandchildren are of the more logical bent and some are more in the emotional range. I just cherish that. They are who they are and as their grandmother, it is my job (and my joy) to love and nurture each of them for exactly who they are. It's fascinating and it's wonderful to see such a variety of personalities, talents, and interests among them. My own children were like this and I'm sure that all families are like this. But as a grandparent, I have the time and the luxury of being able to appreciate them all in their differences and to let them know how much I love them as they are. 
It's something, I tell you, this grandmother stuff. 

It's been a sweet day all around. It's been gray and chilly and damp so I've stayed in. I boiled my turkey carcass and made a beautiful stock with it for soup. I mended a tear in a duvet while watching the most horrible program. Ostensibly it concerns selling multimillion dollar properties in LA but really, it's about a group of Barbie dolls who work in a realtor's office (the owner-boss is male, of course) as they live their glamorous lives, wearing their glamorous clothes and glamorous make-up and eight-inch heels. Their faces are Botox frozen, their legs are unbelievably long and thin, their lips are plump as ripe plums with filler, their eyebrows are drawn on with architectural precision. Their lashes sweep their foreheads when they blink and their hair is...well, probably not theirs. Nor are their breasts. 
As I told my husband when he came in to find me watching this crap, "I don't know why I'm watching this. I don't even like the gazillion square foot houses they sell! And yet...I'm fascinated."
It's like watching Life On Mars or something for me. One of the women is pregnant and her maternity wardrobe is beyond glamorous. Sequins and furs and belly-revealing metallic sheers, her pregnant, plastic breasties pushed up as if by invisible hands, revealing everything but the nipples, and she wears the highest heels of all. 
"As soon as I pop this baby out," she said on an episode I watched today, "I'm going to get injected everywhere on my face! I've never gone this long without getting Botoxed!" 
The crazy thing is, is that her face already looks like it's made of plaster. 

One of the other ladies on the show said of her, "She does not look nine months pregnant. She just looks like she ate a sandwich."

Yes. Simply fascinating. 

I suppose I should stop rambling on and go make our supper. Not soup tonight but turkey enchiladas. I am thinking of when I first truly caught the eye of Mr. Moon. It was the Friday after a Thanksgiving and he asked me to dance and tried to buy me beers and I did dance with him and I did drink a beer or two but not enough to make me invite him over for a turkey sandwich which he hinted at with no subtlety whatsoever. I will admit though, that I still had turkey leftovers when he charmed me more thoroughly a few days later and I made him turkey flautas. I'd make some of those tonight but I don't have all of the ingredients. So. Enchiladas it will be. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Not At My Best

 Gibson is here and I am being a terrible MerMer. Unsurprisingly I am having a bit of a reaction to the flu shot. I think I'm just a hyper-reactor. A little while after he got here I asked if anyone would mind if I laid down for a little nap and about an hour and a half later I woke up. 
He's playing Wii with his Boppy and he's fine but I had intended to play games and do stuff with him. 
Maybe tomorrow morning. 
I am, however, getting his meatball supper ready and have picked salad greens. Sourdough ready to go into the oven. Hopefully, that will make up for some of it. 

Bah. 

Well. Life goes on. And so shall we. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Here We Are

Every time Mr. Moon goes to sit in his chair, he is joined by the Murder Cat. She obviously feels as safe and cozy there as the grandchildren do. And unless he moves a hair, she doesn't even bite or scratch him! When I lean over to kiss him, I am taking my life in my hands but she seems to have settled down a little lately. Maybe by the time she's an old, old lady she will not draw our blood anymore. 

I tell you what- when I woke up this morning I hurt from my toes to my fingers. Literally. Yesterday wasn't exactly a marathon but it was maybe a quarter marathon. But the more I think about yesterday, the happier I am that we had our Thanksgiving here. It's been nice having Thanksgiving at Lily's but she needed a break and I think this old house needed to feel useful and filled up again just as I needed to feel useful and fulfilled again. And everyone really did pitch in to help from bringing delicious foods to setting tables and carving meat and carrying platters and moving chairs. And then cleaning up, too. Tonight Mr. Moon and I will be eating plates of leftovers- always the best. I don't even know exactly what we have in there although I do know there is a turkey carcass. SOUP! When everyone was taking leftovers I kept being asked, "Do you want some of my green bean casserole? How about sweet potatoes? Spinach casserole? Greens?" Yes! Yes! Yes! And then my sweet children would spoon us out some servings into my ever-ready old yogurt containers, sour cream containers, glass leftover containers, bowls....

We are rich! 

This morning we had the supreme and joyful pleasure of Lon and Lis's company for a little while. They had spent Thanksgiving with Lon's sister's family and stopped by here on their way home. We had coffee and rolls and got to chat for not nearly long enough. I had an appointment at Publix to get my flu shot at 1:10 and they had to get on the road. But a little bit is infinitely better than nothing and Lis and I got a tiny heart-share time and I feel all the better for that. 

Then I raced to town to get that shot and do a little Publix shopping. As I waited for my jab, I thought about how insane I went as a child when it was time for me to get a flu shot. I swear- I think that was the only time I went berserk in my life. It took my mother, a nurse, and the doctor acting in restraining concert to give me that shot. I screamed, I cried, I tried to run. 
I have no idea why. 
But I barely felt the needle today and honestly, needles do not bother me very much. I mean, no one but an intravenous drug user really loves the idea of a needle slipping into skin but when needs must...whatever. 
So far I haven't felt any reaction at all other than a slightly sore arm. 

After Publix I went to...wait a minute...can you guess? 
YES! I went to Costco! 
I don't think I've been out shopping on Black Friday since Black Friday became a thing and I was dreading the Big Box experience but it was only slightly busier than usual. If that. I didn't even use the self-check-out which is what I usually do, because there was no line at a cashiered check-out. Live a little, right? Let the professionals scan those items! 

I haven't done a whole lot since I got home. Watered plants, did a little laundry, cleaned up a few things. I certainly did not mop. I've reveled in the idea of those lovely leftovers for supper and our Friday night martinis. Gibson is coming to spend the night tomorrow. I'm looking forward to that. Despite all the Thanksgiving food in the refrigerator, I think I will make him meatballs because that is his special meal and I want him to feel special. He is such a precious boy. 

Okay. Here are two pictures from yesterday. 

Jessie took this one.

I love it with all of my heart. 

And here's one that Rachel took. 

I am wondering what in the world was going on in that smart little head of his. We will probably never know. 

And here's what the sky looked like when I went out to the garage to fetch my husband to come in and make martinis. 

I swear I can feel the house yawn in the same contentment I feel, knowing that it is still able to provide shelter, happy that the heart-pine body of it is still strong in the ways that matter, happy that once again its floors and walls and windows and doors were available and flung open to life and yes, to love, in myriad and joyful ways and now is resting again in that knowledge. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

We Gathered Together

Somehow, some way, this meal got prepared and tables were set and plates were made and a feast was eaten. 

This morning started out in a fairly leisurely way. I got the giant ham in the oven and stuffed the turkey and slid it in next to the ham. They fit. Couldn't have gotten a strand of linguini beside them but they fit. I peeled the eggs and made deviled eggs. I whipped the cream. I made two types of dough for rolls. I made a pitcher of sweet tea, a pitcher of un-. It all went smoothly. And then, as these things always do, it got crazy. 

People started showing up with casseroles and salads and the dough had to be punched down and made into rolls. The island in the kitchen had to be cleared to allow space for the cheeses, the pickles, the crackers, the pepper jelly, the...I don't even know! I couldn't decide whether the meat was cooking too fast or not fast enough. Other things needed to go in the oven. Finally the ham came out. It was gorgeous. Children were playing in the house, in the yard. Drinks were being made. Owen sat in the kitchen and listened to his aunties, his uncle, and his grandmother as we cooked and cleared and washed dishes and cackled and were merry. The tables that Mr. Moon had set up in the backyard were clothed in tablecloths and set with napkins and forks. The turkey came out of the oven. More casseroles took its place. Vergil carved the meat. The table on the back porch slowly filled. The rolls were baked. 
"Come on, come on! Get your plates!" 

And so it happened. 

And now it's all over. Leftovers have been portioned out and taken home, the dishwasher is running its third load for the day and I have more dishes to go in as soon as that load is done and put away. Floors have been swept. I think there are still tables and chairs outside but it's too dark to see and we'll worry about that tomorrow. 

We all agreed that it was a terrific Thanksgiving. One of the best. I have been thinking about all of the families for whom these gatherings are fraught with the fear of saying the wrong thing to the wrong person or of old hurts coming to the surface of the family pond again and I am so grateful that we aren't like that. We are all very different in our own ways but we all agree on the important things and we are all so very comfortable in each other's presence. 
We just love each other. So simple. So miraculous. 

So that was Thanksgiving, 2021 and I'm exhausted but happy. 

I hope that yours was good too. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Thanksgiving Eve

When I got up this morning it felt extremely cold outside and I noticed that the leaves were dripping and I knew we'd gotten into the freezing range last night because that dripping is the sound of the frost thawing. Jeez. I hadn't done a thing to protect my plants. Not one darn thing. And it's supposed to get down to 30 degrees F. tonight so here we go again. I can tell that the bananas got bit and got bit good. Their leaves are turning the same shade and consistency of lettuce in the refrigerator when it gets too cold in there. Dark green and sort of translucent. 
Winter done crept up on me! 

So I went and got my ham and turkey out of the garage refrigerator and low and behold! The turkey had thawed! It was supposed to be a "fresh" turkey but it had felt frozen to me when I put it in the refrigerator. The ham was mostly thawed and I rewrapped it and put it in the kitchen refrigerator in my largest bowl to completely thaw and I unwrapped the turkey and removed the giblets and wrapped it back up too. So this year is a first for me- turkey thawed before Thanksgiving morning! Also...hold your horses...stuffing also made before Thanksgiving morning. 
I know. Call Ripley's. 
(Does anyone still get that reference?)
So I just sort of wandered about today doing a little laundry, a little chopping, a little simmering of giblet broth with celery and onions and celery seed and sage and a bay leaf. I also swept some rooms and cleaned toilets and then Jessie and the boys came out. She brought her vacuum cleaner which August immediately rushed to use on the rug in the Glen Den which sheds like a mangy dog. Jessie took over from him and when she'd finished, she announced that never before had she filled the canister! 
Yay me! I win! 
I read the boys a Babar book and while I was reading, August reached around and put his arm on my back and oh! how I loved that. He is not a physically demonstrative child (neither is Levon) so when they do initiate touch, I just feel so lucky. Then Jessie played some of their favorite songs on her phone and they did a dance routine and sang for me. 

Sorry for the blurriness of the photos. There was a lot of movement going on. We went outside for a little while and then Boppy got back from an errand he was running which means show over for Mer. TV was watched, popcorn was eaten. Jessie helped me move plants to the back of the porch and cover them. We brought a few in to the house. None of the giant ones. I'm over that. As much as I love my plants and as old and cherished as some of them are, I'm not risking sudden death by trying to move a hundred pounds of dirt and bird's nest fern around. Nor do I want my husband to do that sort of thing. He can do it on his own time with his own projects but I'm not going to be responsible for the possible mortal injuries. 

And then the Weatherfords had to go home and I finished cleaning up my kitchen mess. I had celery and onions and broth and cornbread scattered everywhere. I swear I'm not going to know what to do with myself tomorrow morning without having to make the stuffing. 
But no matter how much I think I have pre-prepared, I know that by the time everyone is here tomorrow and the dining hour is upon us, there will be complete chaos in the kitchen. This, as much as the way I make my cornbread dressing, is tradition. And this year I'm throwing that giant ham into the mix. The recipe I'm planning on using calls for a 10-12 pound piece of pork and I weighed the one I've got on my granddaddy's old kitchen scale and was a bit horrified to see that minus the probable bowl weight, the thing weighs probably fourteen pounds. Jessie took one look at it and said, "How are you going to cook that AND the turkey at the same time?" 
"It'll fit!" I said with great confidence. 
She laughed. I am famous for not being able to judge space and volume, whether in parking a car or picking out a container for leftover soup. 
And now that I think about it, it's not the size of the hunks o' meat themselves, it's the pans I have to use to roast them in. 
Ooh boy. 
I've just shot off a text to my neighbor who is out of town asking if I can use their oven if I need it. 

Hell, I could probably cook that pork over a fire if it comes to that. 
I hope it doesn't come to that. 

Anyway, I'm still feeling quite happy about it all. No matter what, everything will get cooked and there will be a place for everyone to sit and plenty for all to eat. There always is. 
I discovered that I do have rum so that's good. It's a bottle that I brought back from Cuba and so it is well-aged. I will be able to drink my shot of it and say, "Whoopeye Aye!" and then, smacking my lips, "Yum Rum!" in memory and tribute to my darling Lynn who always used to come and join me in that ritual Thanksgiving morning as I cooked, no matter where she was eating her own Thanksgiving dinner. Hopefully, I will not be hiding somewhere, drinking the stuff straight from the bottle and softly weeping after dinner is served, as I will admit has happened before, back when I used to make Thanksgiving for the masses. 

Good times. 

Happy Thanksgiving, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Pies and Preciouses

 Lily texted me this morning to say that Maggie was snuffling and had a little fever and did I still want to come over to stay with the kids for a little while?
Jesus Christ. This old brain of mine had completely forgotten that we'd discussed this on Sunday. As in- day before yesterday. 
I told her I would be fine and I will be. Hell, I've been around August and Levon and they've had what was probably the same thing. So off I went at noon to hang out with my Hartmann grands who needed an official adult to watch them in-between Lauren leaving for work and Lily getting home. Driving over there was a treat because it's so beautiful here right now. Gorgeous skies and leaves putting on their fall colors. 

Owen promised Lauren before she left that he would make lunch for all of them and he did. He made ramen noodles and I was so proud of him when he told Maggie- now you drink the broth this time. It'll be good for you because you're sick!
And she listened to her big brother. 
While they were eating, Gibson and Maggie tried to teach me how to play Labyrinth and then Owen chimed in and even with all of their help and reading the instructions, I was still a bit vague about it. I finally said, "Let's go outside, it's too pretty to stay indoors." They all agreed that that was a fine idea because Maggie was accusing Owen and Gibson of being wrong in their stupid rules and they were telling her she was cheating and, well...let's go outside! 

It was cool out and Maggie said she wasn't cold but I knew she had to be so I took off my moth-eaten cashmere sweater and buttoned it around her and she loved that because it was so soft. She did so much swinging. 

Gibson had to show me how brave he was by sticking his feet in the above-ground pool they got this summer from Lauren's parents. 

Sorry I got the light all messed up. But you can see how blue the sky was. 

So we had a good time and then we went back inside and Maggie let me cuddle her and read the Little Golden Book of "Heidi" which brought back all of the emotions I used to feel when I read that dang book in its entirety over and over as a little girl. I almost had to swallow a sob today when I got to the part where Heidi gets to return to the mountain, her beloved grandfather, Peter, and the goats. 

And then Lily got home and I came back to my house and made two pies. 

To the untrained eye I am sure they both just look like pecan pies but the top one is a chocolate pecan pie, made from Granny Matthew's recipe, so tattered and faded that I can barely read it now. The lower one is a new recipe from the NYT's cooking app and it's a maple-honey pecan pie. 

Somehow I thought I was going to get a lot more done today than I did but hell- I have a whole 'nother day to get busy. I'll get the turkey and the pork out of the refrigerator in the garage and let them sit in the kitchen all day and they still probably won't thaw but they won't be quite as frozen on Thursday. I have to make my cornbread for the stuffing and boil eggs which I really do not have enough of for all of our deviled egg needs because my hens have been slacking. The pies alone took seven. Eggs. Not chickens. I should tidy up the house. Jessie asked me the other day if I wanted her to come over and help me do a little cleaning. I was completely mystified by her offer. 
"Clean?" I asked. "For who? For what?" 
Hopefully we'll be eating outside but I suppose I could do a little fluff and stuff, as Lis calls it. No matter what I do or don't do, it's going to be complete chaos within five minutes of everyone getting here with so many toys scattered about that no one will even be able to see the dust. 
That's my theory, anyway. 

It's been a very nice day all around. Mr. Moon has recovered nicely and THAT ordeal is over with and I got to play with some of my babies and I do not hate Thanksgiving. It's all about family and food and that's pretty much my life so it's all good. 

Talk to me Thursday and you may hear a different story but for now, it's all pretty sweet. 
Oh hell. I forgot to buy rum. 
Sigh. 

Love...Ms. Moon

All Is Well

 I really do love cranberry sauce in all of its many versions but I think the thing about the fruit that brings me most joy is the color. I mean- look at that! Scarlet as can be. And then, when they are cooked they turn into rubies. Both forms are gorgeous. I know there are many people who choose the canned sauce because of the deep ritual of it and that is fine with me but I need to make my own just because of the color and the lovely pop of the berries as they cook with the sugar and water. I made my sauce this morning before we left to go to Mr. Moon's appointment and now it is in the refrigerator, waiting for its place on the Thanksgiving table. 

The procedure went well. He had a colonoscopy AND endoscopy as he suffers heartburn. The colonoscopy looked fine but he has to double up on his heartburn medicine for three months and return to get that looked at again. As the doctor said, "Go home and do some healing." 
The whole thing did not take very long except for waiting for the doctor to come and give us his two minute (if that) report. But the anesthesia they give for the procedures is pretty intense and my husband needed every minute he got to truly wake up. Or sort of wake up. He woke up enough to want a Popeye's spicy chicken sandwich and despite my better judgement on that, that's what he got. I was not about to argue at that point. 
I drove him home as carefully and smoothly as I could and he slept most of the way, came in, got into his chair, and slept some more. As I recall from when I got a colonoscopy, I hated that part of it- losing a long period of memory, knowing I had been talking and interacting and not remembering a bit of it. I kept asking my husband later- did I really see the doctor? Did he really say everything was okay?

I'm going to make him a nice creamy cashew butternut and sweet potato soup. I've had a butternut squash just waiting to be honored in such a way. It is a good soup. A very good soup. 

It's been a long day but it's gone okay. I hope I remember the guy who was waiting for his wife's procedure to be over in the waiting room who was seated near me. He had asked Mr. Moon how tall he was and we ended up going at the same time to pull our cars up to the door for our spouse-patients to be wheeled out. Turns out we've both been married for thirty-seven years and we had a little chat in the elevator. 
"You have a good life!" he said, as we parted in the parking lot. 
"You too!" I said. 
It felt a little like a blessing. 
Having my husband come through the procedure well is an even greater one. 

Here's a Camellia Sasanqua. 

I believe it is called Yuletide.

The sort-of altar table in the hallway where there will be camellias from now until spring. 

Another blessing, for sure. 

Love...Ms. Moon

It's All The Little Things

 Jessie brought over some of Tom's plants for me to choose from. There were only three that I really had an interest in. One of them was the one you see above which is a bromeliad or an air plant. A cardinal air plant, to be exact.
That's what my plant identifier said and I believe it in this case. 
Tom had his growing in a loose dirt situation but as an air plant, it is mostly recommended that they not go into soil. Tom's been growing bromeliads for as long as I've known him. I remember in 1976 I had a miscarriage and he brought me a bromeliad as a gift. When we moved into this house he gave me a few more and they grow like crazy. Some in an old tree stump and a bunch of them in a terra cotta rooster pot that sits over Elvis' grave. For those of you who have not been reading here forever, Elvis was a magnificent rooster we had who died way too young. We loved him so and mourn him to this day. He is buried in the front yard so that he can protect us as he always valiantly protected his flock. 

This is one of my favorite pictures ever. It is of a young Owen and a young Elvis studying each other. Here's another. 

Well, I have just segued and tangented all over the damn place, haven't I? 

It's been a hard day for Mr. Moon. Not eating is such a drag. I do not think he would be very effective in a hunger strike but then again, neither would I. I've made him three types of Jello, whipped up gourmet broth with Better Than Bouillon vegetable AND chicken flavors, and served him Italian ice. I also bought him hard candy today because he's allowed that too. I'm pretty sure he'd kill for a banana or a pear. I feel so bad for him but by this time tomorrow it'll all be over. 

I did indeed go to town today, not just to buy hard candy and different flavors of Jello, but to buy a turkey too. I mean- Thanksgiving is in four days and those suckers take that long to thaw. And in all my years of making Thanksgiving dinner I don't think I've ever truly completely thawed a turkey before Thanksgiving morning and have always resorted to the HIGHLY UNSAFE AND UNRECOMMENDED method of fast-thawing which is to run hot water down the bird's cavities. 
We have never died yet. 
So. I got my turkey and walked the aisles in my usual pre-holiday panic. Should I get fancy cheese? What about squash? Should I get squash and make a casserole? Do I need another bag of Pepperidge Farm bread crumbs for stuffing mix? 
I did not succumb to the panic. Okay, okay. I bought a few things just in case...
What? Just in case what? 
Who knows? Not me. 
I've already got about eight things on my list to cook. Everybody else can bring all the rest. One of the things I'm making is a fresh ham. Well, fresh in the sense that it's neither cured nor smoked but just a huge chunk of pork. It comes from the wild pigs that we got last year and had processed and I'm a little excited about trying this. I hope it's good. I've got a recipe from the New York Times cooking app for Fresh Ham with Maple-Balsamic Glaze. I will tell you how that comes out. I know for sure that those wild pigs were the best pig meat I've ever eaten. 

Jessie and Vergil and the boys dropped by for a little while as Vergil... caught...a deer last night and needed to do some processing. He came over after he...caught...the deer to do the things that need to be done immediately and ended up eating supper with us which was an unexpected pleasure. I'd made that lovely skillet spanokopita we love and there were a few stone crab claws and some shrimp as well as the potato sourdough bread which was fit to eat. 
Levon has been coughing and running a fever (tested negative for covid and flu) and so I was forbidden to get to close to the boys which I mostly obeyed. 
Sort of. 

After they left I did a rather casual cleaning of the Thermonster oven. I should be doing this frequently as you can't use oven cleaner in the beautiful beast and so it's Bon Ami 

and elbow grease. I'm thinking I'll hire Owen to do it next time. Scrubbing an oven while on my knees is somewhat painful. 
Sigh. 

So that's how this Sunday went. It wasn't bad for me although I hate seeing my husband unhappy. He's being very brave though. I better go see if he wants his supper- more broth. I think I'm going to make a salad for me because at least that way, there will be no delicious cooking smells to torture him. 

Oh! I also got to see Lily at Publix as she was working. I love how she tells people, "That's my mommy."
Oh, my heart. My six-foot tall daughter calls me her mommy. Nothing could be sweeter to my me. 

Talk to you tomorrow. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Life Examination, Part However Many Days I've Been Alive

Can you believe it is Pink Perfection season again already? 
I had no idea. I went out this morning to take a picture of the blooming sasanqua 

and found that blushing baby above which had been busy being born without me even knowing it. I have a few of the blooms on both of the two Pink Perfection bushes I have. I plucked one of them and brought it in. While I was in the garden today I also picked some of the volunteer zinnia blossoms and now I have roses, zinnias, and a camellia in vases in my house. 
This is the time of the borderland between summer, fall, and winter. At least in terms of blooming flowers. And this is what my Japanese maple looked like in the sun. 

It has gotten so big in the years we've been here. Seventeen years, to be exact. The longest by five years of anywhere I've ever lived. And oh, how the time has flown, how many changes have come about. Sometimes I can't bear to think of how quickly these years have passed and I suppose I could almost ignore that if I never looked in the mirror, if I didn't have a twelve-year old grandson who was not even a gleam in his mother's eyes when we moved here. She was still in high school then. 

I'm struggling a bit right now with the passage of time and how quickly it's going. Sometimes I think that I am simply waiting patiently until my time is over. I am not proud of this. I am not happy about it. I think of the line "my one wild and precious life" and I google it only to discover something I probably already knew which is that it comes from a poem by Mary Oliver and I am disheartened to think of all of the poetry I have not read, all of the books, hell- all of the New Yorkers on my table! 
I know this is a horrible attitude but I can't tell you how often I think of doing something, starting something, and thinking, "What's the point?" I feel too old to begin anything new, too old a dog to learn new tricks, too tired to throw out challenges to the universe, to myself. 
And I do another crossword. Patch another garment old garment so I don't have to buy a new one. Bake another loaf of bread. Sweep the same floors over and over. Ignore the places my house needs mending, tending. And even as I have these thoughts, I cling to the known, the well-worn routine, the printed-in-stone outline that I feel as if each of my days should follow. 

Eh. 

I cleaned the hen house today and I mulched the garlic my husband planted last week. I used some of the chickens' straw that lined their nests and as I pitchforked the pile I realized that we have some excellent composted chicken shit which is pure gold to the gardener. I'm baking a loaf of potato-sourdough bread and I hope it's good because it's as big as a basketball although shaped more like a football. 

Here's the Mary Oliver poem. Probably most of you know it but I will give it to you again. 
I don't know about you, but I should ponder these words. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Poem 133: The Summer Day

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Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean—
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

—Mary Oliver

My Beautiful Sweeties

 Here you have on the back row from the left, Michael, May, Rachel, and Melissa. In front are Billy and Hank. And I got to eat lunch with them today. 
Also, I got a haircut! From Melissa, of course. 
Hank and Rachel were getting their hair cut and Melissa fit me in. It was odd not being there to watch grandbabies while their mamas got their hair cut but it sure was wonderful to see Melissa because I haven't seen her since before Covid and Melissa is the kind of person you want to see weekly, if not even daily, because she is just that dear and precious. 
So after we got groomed (don't you love Hank and Rachel's haircuts?), we all went to lunch and May and Michael and Billy were able to meet us. 
Now. Talk about people I haven't seen in forever- Billy. 
Some of you know Billy well. Hell, some of you donated to the fund for Billy's chest surgery. I've known Billy for at least forty-seven lifetimes, I do believe. When I met him, he and Hank were both far from even beginning their transgender journeys and they went through it all together. Those two boys have taught me more about humanity and bravery and being exactly who you are than anyone else I know. They have also brought a wealth of other people into my life whom I have always found interesting, dear, and some of them I have come to love and cherish. 
But these two guys- well, they are my darlings. 
This is how I feel about Billy. 

Everyone feels that way about Billy, I think. He is that good. 
He's recently gotten a job with The Trevor Project where I am sure he will help many, many people. 

And that was what I did today and I also hurried into Publix to get the things Mr. Moon can eat or drink on Sunday while he's preparing for his colonoscopy. Apple juice, Italian Ice, Jello. Been awhile since I made Jello. I was rushing, rushing, rushing, knowing that I was supposed to be home to meet up with Mr. Moon and Lily and Jessie and all the kids to go to our friend Tom's house. Tom has a large collection of plants that he has grown and tended over the years but doesn't feel that he can take care of them anymore due to health problems, especially as winter is coming and they will need to be moved or covered when the temperature is supposed to dip down below freezing so he asked us if we would like them. Lily and Jessie both love their plants and so they are very interested. I have more plants than I can deal with now but if there's something they might think I want they can bring it to me because I decided that I just did not want to hustle over there with everyone so I didn't. I stayed here and made up the bed with clean sheets and ran the dishwasher and am trying to just settle down. Seems like this week has been full and busy and I am feeling a small, constant hum of adrenaline that is not comfortable at all. Even doing things I love with people I love is stressful and if I could change this attitude I would. I can't imagine what it must feel like to just go with the flow of things, delighting in the be-here-nowness of it all without the damn taint of anxiety and overthinking. 
I should probably meditate. 
Or something. 

Anyway, it's Friday. Mr. Moon is home and the martini glasses are in the freezer and the bed is made up and I'm going to make clam spaghetti for our supper which is easy as can be. My hair is about six inches shorter than it was this morning which really makes very little difference but it will be a tiny bit easier to deal with. 

I wish peace to all of us tonight and good dreams and a lazy morning if that is what you wish. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Walk In the Woods And Flatlands

I finally put on my walking shoes today and drove down the road to the L. Kirk Edwards wildlife area where I had walked once in June. It was already way too hot then as there is very little shade but I filed it away as a place to visit again when it got cooler and now it is cooler and so...
I did a search of my blog to find the post I'd written about so many months ago and found it here.  I had to laugh at myself- I'd taken a picture in almost the exact same spot back then and again today. The oak you see above. 

It was really nice there today. Lots of plants that make their showy selves known in fall. Very Florida. 

That's a nice stand of saw palmetto which is useful in men's maintaining of prostate health. 

I used my plant identifier on a lot of plants but I'm not sure I trust the ID's. I am ashamed that I do not know more about the native plants of this area. When I walked there before, I tentatively identified this plant as wiregrass and I'm pretty sure it is. 

It is a desirable native in that it will grow during draught conditions and on poor soil. Its roots will hold the soil in place. Much of the wiregrass around here has been eliminated by pine planters and cattle ranchers, I think, and there is a movement to replant it and encourage its growth.

There are big swaths of planted pines in the wildlife area and as you can see here, there have been controlled burns. The white plant growing amongst them is, I BELIEVE hyssop leaf thoroughwort. I could very well be wrong but it made a lovely contrast next to the black trunks of the pines. 

I do not know what this red plant is and I should because it grows everywhere. I was pleased to see on my drive back from the beach on Sunday that we do have a lot of color change in the woods and forests around here. You'd be surprised! It's not New England by any means but there were plenty of golds and yellows and reds. We absolutely have seasons although they are subtle. 

So that's what I did today. I took a good walk. I met one biker, a guy, and he seemed like a nice fellow. "Good day for a hike!" he said to me as we crossed paths. It occurred to me, as it always does, that whenever a woman is in a situation like this, she is absolutely going to be at her most alert. As he was riding towards me I thought about how the man in the scenario probably never, ever feels this sense of potential threat. I'm not sure that men realize that just their very presence causes this fear in women but a lot of men do try their best to make it known that they are not threats by offering up friendly greetings which I do appreciate but it all adds up to the truth of the matter which is that physically, many men are stronger than many women (not all by any means!) and also, we are all animals, no matter how fancy our souls and brains, and in the human species, it is generally the males who are predators. I do not live my life in fear- if I did, I would not go on these walks- but it is something I have to consider if I am walking in isolated areas which I love to do. The older I get, the more I understand how certain ingrained and learned and absolutely primitive and justified fears can control women and do control women whether we want them to or not. 

But that's not really what I meant to talk about this evening. Mostly, I just wanted to describe the lovely walk I had today in a wildlife area in North Florida. I saw hawks and vultures and NO BEARS! On the drive back home, four lovely deer ran across the road in front of me. I stopped to watch them leap and run and melt into the woods as they do. 

I also did a little gardening today so all-in-all I feel as if I've earned my supper which I now need to go make. 

Love...Ms. Moon