There Is A Spider Here

We finally got rain this afternoon. It didn't last long but it was a good strong pour-down and I swear I could hear the dirt taking it in with thirsty gulps. And right this second it looks like we could get some more. So grateful. So very grateful. 

It's been a not-great day although I am feeling better now than I have been. I knew I had to take a walk when the damn morning weeping commenced. That's always a good indication that moving my body would be in order. Of course, when all you want to do is curl up with a blanket over your head, taking a walk is about the last thing you want to do but at this point in my life, I know that it will help. 
I wasn't out for enjoyment but I did make myself notice and register the wild flowers. The only picture of them I took was this one. 

The same spotted bee balm I have in my garden right now and those two daisy-looking flowers on the right are commonly called "Spanish needles" or "Butterfly needles." They get the needle part because if you walk through a mess of those pretty little posies you will come away with little black stickers that are almost impossible to remove from clothing or shoes. And right in the middle of that arrangement is a spunky little smilax vine which will cut your skin like razor blades if you aren't aware of them when you're hiking or weeding. They grow everywhere here. And they are rooted so deeply and firmly that my theory is that they are all coming from the same root so the smilax plant in Lily's yard is the same smilax plant in my yard.  

So. The walk mostly made me hot and caused my hips to ache but I guess I felt better, mentally. After I ate my lunch I curled up on the little sofa in the library to read a story in the New Yorker by Annie Proulx and then part of an article on James Baldwin but my eyes got so heavy and I gave in and put the magazine down and pulled the lap quilt that lives on the back of the sofa over me and closed my eyes. I did not sleep but it was restorative I think, to get almost to the brink and then float about in that land, even if I didn't settle down into it. Maurice came in at one point meowing at me, probably because she never sees me lying down in the daytime. Glen also came in to have me initial a contract and so there was no real sleep but just being in that room with all the books around me made me wonder why I don't do that more often. Probably because deep down I do not feel that I deserve such a beautiful room with shelves of books. But even if I don't deserve it, it's a damn sin not to enjoy it. 

I finally forced myself up. I bought okra a few days ago to make gumbo with and I was determined to do that although I truly did not want to and I will admit this is not the gumbo I will be remembered for. But the slicing and the chopping of the vegetables and the stirring of the roux and making broth from the shrimp shells made me feel a little more human. My kitchen is a scene from a disaster movie right now but that won't take too long to restore to order. 

Here are two photos of things you have seen on this blog seven thousand times. At least. 

The firespike has definitely fulfilled its purpose if its purpose is to make scarlet flowers for hummingbirds and bees to enjoy. 

And the golden orb weavers are still fulfilling their purpose too. 

It is raining again, but not with as much conviction as it did earlier. That's okay. Every drop counts. 

I will clean up the kitchen now. I will feel better tomorrow. 

And Mr. Moon just came home from town with flowers that he put in the same vase with the pinecone lilies and I think they are beautiful.

Love...Ms. Moon