Red Letter Day In My World

The 20th of March has come again and so it is spring and also, it is Gibson's birthday. He is thirteen this year! Thirteen, y'all! We have another teenager in the family and all I can think about is what the day of his birth was like. It was wonderful! If by some chance you've missed this particular joyful story, you can go back and read about it HERE. 

Gibson's birth was the first second-generation home birth in our family. I had all of my kids at home except for Hank although I tried. And Lily was planning a home birth with Owen but the midwife's back-up doctor decided that this baby was getting too big for her to safely deliver at home and they induced her labor in the hospital and she ended up having to go through many, many unnecessary hours of painful labor before he was born and trust me- he was NOT too big for Lily to deliver at home or anywhere else. He weighed a little more than a pound less than Lily herself weighed at birth and I had her at home and I am definitely NOT six feet tall, as is Lily. 
I am never going to get over that, am I? Nope. I am not. I am going to be eternally pissed off. 

But Gibson's birth was different, as was Maggie's and Levon's and August's too. All born at home. 

But back to the present, and oh dear. I realize I just made a pun which I never intentionally do but sometimes they spring out by accident. On Tuesday Lily told me about a fantasy action figure that Gibson really wanted and so I got it for him. Gibson is still at home recovering from whatever he's had and so I wrapped up the present and drove to his house, stopping first at Publix to get the boy something else that his mama said he wanted- a giant jar of dill pickles. Not the industrial-sized jar but the next size down. And he was so happy with his present and his pickles. He hugged me and thanked me so many times. 

I was very happy to get to see Gibson on his birthday. We'll do some big family celebration soon, I am sure. Here are some pictures of him through the years.

He is such a love and he is so loving. There is no one like our Gibson. 
And I am pretty sure that by the end of the summer he will be towering over me. He has his dad's Italian genes for sure with that dark hair and those beautiful dark brown eyes but I think he also somehow managed to get the Moon genes when it comes to height. But his light and beauty and imaginative, intelligent mind are all his. 

*************

In news of the garden, I was pulling some weeds this afternoon and decided to pull the last few carrots. I may have waited too long. 

Quarter for scale.

And here is the azalea right outside the back porch that is so damn pink that it eats the ability of the camera to render its color faithfully. 

If you stare at it too long, it will blind you, just like staring at the sun. 

For years that dang azalea did not grow at all and had a pitiful number of blossoms on it so I came up with a plan which involved the beloved chickens I used to have. I started throwing kitchen scraps on the ground around it so they'd come and scratch around and poop every day, enriching the dirt with their magical chicken powers. 
I think it worked. 

And if you started reading here after I no longer had chickens, you missed the best part of me. 

Happy Spring Equinox, y'all. 

And happy birthday, Gibson. We love you to pieces.

Love...Ms. Moon