The Simplest Of Joys

It has just been the prettiest day. The light has been splendid, whether pouring into the house through windows or shining through magnolia leaves or just being there, lighting up the tiny part of the world I live in, showing the bluest sky and the whitest wisps of clouds to their best advantage.
It's been a wonder. 

And cool. All day long. Perfection. 

Knowing that my alone-time is coming to an end, I've cherished it all the more today. As I just wrote to Billy in a text, I wander around this house that I love so much thinking, "And here are my books, and here is my cozy bed, and this is my pretty bathroom and this is my rooster on the wall..." 
I think it has been a time of deep gratitude for me, this past week. It is easy to see and contemplate the most simple of pleasures and sweetness when there is nothing to distract me, no reason to make me rush from one thing to another. 
But soon the man will be home and my life will change back to being a bit more scheduled and a lot more full of conversation. And that is good, too. 

My late-blooming roses are still kicking ass. I picked these today. 

They smell so good. And they are so soft and delicate. They remind me of my grandmother somehow. I guess it's the delicacy of the petals. I've been thinking lately how my grandmother never really kissed me. At night, if she was there to tuck me in bed, she would sometimes give me an Eskimo kiss, which of course meant rubbing noses, or maybe an elephant kiss which was where she'd spread both her hands, touching one of the thumbs to one of the pinkies to make a trunk and and I would do the same and we would touch our trunks to each other. 
This is really quite sad, in a way, but I think I have mentioned a book of hers that I have, called The Care and Feeding of Children which is filled with stern instructions about showing too much affection to a child or passing germs by kissing. I guess...I guess...she took that to heart. I feel sorry for her children, I feel sorry for her. To think that kissing my child would cause weakness or illness in them? My god. I practically ingested my children. They are lucky I did not kiss the skin right off them. 
I try not to invade the space of my grandchildren when it comes to hugs and kisses. Lily's kids are big huggers and give and receive kisses easily. August and Levon are a bit more reticent about the whole thing. Still, I can't help sometimes kamakazing in on them and delivering swift pecks to the tops of their heads. Yesterday, when I was telling them good-bye, August pursed his little lips which I took as a sign he would allow a kiss, and I gave him the briefest, dry brush of lips and then he said, "Too juicy!" 
I laughed so hard. That was the least juicy kiss in the history of kisses. 

Where was I? Oh yes. Roses, and my grandmother's skin. 
Well. 

I did some more clearing out front this afternoon. 

I am leaving the ferns. I am under no illusions that the croscomia won't take over the whole area again or that the border grass won't sprout from the many, many pieces of root I did not remove.

I also did some work to the right of where the fence corners. That little piece of ground is thick with the mondo grass and croscomia and several other invasive type plants. It's a damn mess. 

I plan on pulling everything I can get except for the ferns, elephant ears, crepe myrtle and sago and I would not be sad to see the sago go either. 

The piano seemed to have an issue with me today. As if it did not want me to play it. Perhaps it was just that my fingers were all wonky from pulling roots out of the ground. But that's okay. I still enjoyed it. 

And now I'm going to cook the roasted cauliflower recipe that I love and cooked so frequently that Mr. Moon finally asked me to please cook that when he was off hunting or fishing. 
Gladly. More for me! 

Oh! Look what I discovered yesterday!

An itty bitty bloom on the ginger plant that I started from a piece of ginger root I bought at the Asian market. I could not be more thrilled. I believe I will keep the plant in the pot throughout the winter and then plant it outside in the dirt. 

I suppose that's enough of all that. 

I wish you could smell those roses. 

Love...Ms. Moon