A Full Day

This is what I did in pottery today. Two and a half hours to paint the whole sort-of caladium white, as a base, and then to add those two colors of green. I do three coats of everything which is why it takes so much time. I believe I am going to add some red and some pink in there somewhere. Caladiums come in such a huge rainbow of colors and designs that it's hard to settle on a color scheme. 

Here are just a few of the different varieties you can buy bulbs for. 

I am so fascinated, looking at different images of them that I am now ready to plant my entire yard in caladiums. Wouldn't that be a glory?  
I am especially drawn to this one. 

Florida Cardinal is their name. And they are supposed to be very large. 
I am starting to think that perhaps caladiums are like so many things that suddenly become more interesting than you thought possible as you age and you wonder- where have these things been all my life? 
Like feeding crows. 
I believe I'll start doing some research on caladiums and see when the best time of year to plant them is. That should give me more impetus to clear out some of the beds I've been working on in such a desultory manner for so long so that I can put in some of these beauties. 

Pottery was fun today. I was not in a very light mood when Jessie and I got there but over the course of the class, I felt better and better. I talked to Lizzie and a few other people and painted on my platter. She is working on some of her whippets and a few cats and she is painstakingly painting them with Stroke and Coat too, so we sit there with our little brushes and our little paint bottles and we discuss everything from tonight's menu to what the kids and grandkids are up to, to politics, although we're not really supposed to do that, and a lot of other stuff. It's rather lovely. Gentleman Caller™did not make it in today which was disappointing. He's back to being a professor of constitutional law at the university which is his work. 
I took a picture of the one-ticket-per-square squares on the shelves where we set our pieces to be fired so you can get an idea of how this will go. 

These are some of Lizzie's cats (which she has just started doing) and a whippet. She makes them for people who actually have pets who look like the ones she's making. After they are fired they are precious. But to get a sense of size- well, that ticket is the size of your regular ticket that you'd get to go on rides at the fair. The pieces themselves are perhaps two and a half inches long? I'm not good at spatial stuff but that's what I'd guess. 

After class Lily met Jessie and me at Bumpa's, the sports bar we like because the food is sort of amazingly good. I finally remembered to take a picture of the salad I always get. 

That's seared sesame-encrusted ahi tuna on delicious salad items. It's hard to beat. 

Since we're talking about food (how surprising!) I'll show you my fourth (I think) attempt at the type of bread I'm trying to make. 

I am so getting there. I have to say this bread was delicious and had all the good fiber-y and protein-y things in it. Instead of cottage cheese in this batch, I used Greek yogurt. I think it worked better. We ate it with our soup last night and this morning I had a piece toasted with peanut butter. But back to the soup- do you remember me saying that I'd read the immature Seminole pumpkins can be picked and used like a summer squash? 
I tried it. 

It is the most tender vegetable you can imagine with a good, mild flavor. I think it would be amazing stir fried with other vegetables or just sauteed with onions. No need to peel it. I chopped this one up and added it to the soup. As I was serving that soup up last night I told Glen that the amazing thing was that there had never been another soup exactly like this one in the history of the universe and I think that's probably true. And it's true for many, many soups made at home with vegetables and proteins and herbs and flavorings that just happen to be hanging around and are all put together in whatever unique way the person making it creates their soup. 
Glen loved that idea but he also noted that because I hardly ever use a recipe for my soup, if he, say, asked for that same soup on his birthday, I wouldn't be able to recreate it. 
I told him that not only would I not be able to recreate it, I probably wouldn't remember making it. 
But it was pretty darn good soup. 

As a little bit of a lagniappe to last night's post, I have been amazed and yet not amazed at the outpouring of love and respect for Dolly Parton on social media. Not just from America, but from the world. So very many marginalized communities are coming forth to express why they loved this woman so much. She meant something different to all of us, I think, but everything she represented was beautiful. 

This really tore at my heart.

The Empire State Building, lit up with glittery pink in her honor. I can just hear her tinkly laugh of delight if she could see that. 
Dare I say that the Empire State Building was in drag? 

Yes. I do believe I do. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Just...No

I imagine it's extremely difficult, if not impossible, for someone who is not from the United States, and probably most specifically the southern region of this country, to understand how we feel about Dolly Parton. And I do not pretend to understand or know how anyone else feels about her but it is safe to say she is beloved. 
I say "is" even though she went on today. Doesn't make any difference. She is beloved and probably will be for eternity, at least around these parts. 
You know what a sacrilegious unbeliever I am but I know how I feel about Dolly Parton and that is she is an angel. A real true holy angel who somehow got put on this earth to grace it with her voice, her songwriting, her benevolence, her kindness, her philanthropy, her tenderness, her spark, her energy, her tenderness, her sass, her laugh, her non-judgmental loving acceptance of people who so many "religious" people call sinners even though if anyone was religious, it was Dolly, her belief in goodness, in the power of reading, in her love of family, her style, her courage, her belief in the equality of women, and her goddamn fingernails. 
The woman has given away over 300 million books to children all over the world. Do I really need to say more than that? 
In my opinion she did more for the people of this world than Mother Teresa ever imagined could be done and by god, she did it wearing rhinestones and heels and outrageous wigs and a grin as big as the Grand Canyon, bosoms as big as bountiful and plentiful as her waist was tiny. And she never once denied having plastic surgery. She wasn't ashamed of it. 
I remember when I used to work at the Birth Center here and would do post partum counseling and would get to the part about how, on about the third day the milk would come in for the mama, I would describe the experience as like waking up to having Dolly Parton bosoms. 
And everyone knew what I meant. 
I think Dolly's breasts had to be that big because if anyone who ever lived represented being a bounteous goddess of nurturing and love more than she did, I do not know who it would be, even though she never had children of her own. 

And it's been just so hard today, having heard this news. I was having a difficult day already and then to hear that Dolly had died was just about too much. It's one of those situations where I feel like if I let myself really start crying, I ain't ever gonna stop. 
I just told my husband that it feels like all the goodness in this world is being taken from us while the evil prevails. 
"That's one way to look at it," he said. 
He's right. And I am the sort of person who does look at it that way. I don't think it's a purposeful thing on the part of a god or the universe or any of that crap, I just think it is what it is. 

I would love to post a video of Dolly but I can't even think of a song that could possibly represent who she was. She was country, she was pop, she was occasionally rock, she was bluegrass, she was...well, she was Dolly. She had a million hits. 

I feel like REM in "Losing My Religion."
Oh no, I've said too much, I haven't said enough.

And yet, I haven't even touched the surface of what this woman means, did, or represented. 
And so I guess I'll post this video which may be one of her most recognized songs. Whitney Houston did a beautiful cover of it but Dolly wrote it. Dolly did it best. And in this video, she tells the story of how it came to be. 

God, this is ridiculously sappy but dammit, Dolly, we will always love you. 
Thanks for stopping by here on your way around this universe. 

And here's a picture of May taken in Chattanooga, Tennessee in front of a mural on the building where Dolly and her husband Carl Dean were married back in 1966. 

I believe that sort of says everything I wanted to say. 

Love...Ms. Moon

In Which I Celebrate Michael, Find Another Baby Who Was Not A Bad Baby, Get To Visit With Two Of My Most Favorite People In The World, And Other Things.

I had lunch with these two beautiful people today. It's Michael's birthday and I really didn't plan on having his birthday lunch with him but due to a long series of events, I did. And I'm glad. I don't know about them but I sure had a lot of fun. We had a lot to catch up on. 
May and I had been trying to have lunch together for weeks. Her days off are Sunday and Monday and she and Michael, who both have stressful and demanding jobs, like to go out for Sunday brunch to relax and recoup and enjoy some time together. So Monday is the best day to meet up with her and we were going to go two Mondays ago but that was the day my phone was arriving and someone had to be here to sign for it and so we were going to go the Monday after that but dang it- I had a dentist appointment I'd forgotten about and so it was going to be THIS Monday, which was today of course, and Ta-Da! It was Michael's birthday. 
Michael, being a darling son-in-law and a kind gentleman swore that he would be fine with me coming to lunch with them and I hope he's not regretting that now. As I said, I had a really good time, anyway. 
There was one thing that was odd and that was our server. 
Bless her heart. 
She was young but a fine server. 
However. That woman had the biggest, most brilliantly white tooth-filled smile I have ever seen in my entire life. 
As in, after she took my drink order, I whispered to May and Michael, "She scares me."
I was getting Beetlejuice vibes. Like- this cannot be real. 
I'm not going to even identify the restaurant, much less her name which I honestly don't remember anyway. And as I said, she was a fine server and I tipped her almost as big as her smile which would not have been possible. 

When we were almost finished with our meals, we started hearing a baby. At first I thought the baby was crying but I soon realized that no, this baby was just talking. And on our way out, after I'd used the restroom, I absolutely had to go find the baby. My baby obsession is not easing up, y'all. 
I found the baby. She was sitting on her mother's lap and this child was screeching her thoughts and opinions and emotions with the lungs of an opera singer. I was going to just pass by the table but no. I could not. That baby was so damn cute and smooshie and gorgous I had to stop and I said, "I'm sorry but I had to find the baby." And then I told the mother and either her friend or her sister who was also in the booth about my baby obsession and how I'd had four babies myself and now have five grandchildren and the two women seemed delighted that someone who obviously had so much experience in cute babies thought THIS baby was special. 
And she was. 
The woman who was not the mother said, "She's part pterodactyl," and I agreed this must be true. The most charming pterodactyl you can imagine. She was five months old and in my deep wisdom I told them that this was the best age because they can sit up and talk (okay, sometimes it's pterodactyl language) and grin and really, what more do you need to do? 
They also hastened to add that she can roll over! Of course! 
She really was just about the perfect baby. And I did not ask if I could hold her. I did not grab her and run from the restaurant. I did not look at her and say, "You shall be mine!" No. I did none of those things. I just flirted with her for a few seconds and then with great force of will, dragged my crazy ass away. 

After May and Michael went their way and I went mine, I stopped at a plant nursery in hopes of finding late tomato plants to put in but they didn't have any. I got the okra seeds Mr. Moon has been wanting to plant, some artichoke seeds, and a Cuban oregano. 
That was an impulse buy. 
I've been wanting to try and plant artichokes for a long time and according to the seed packet, in mild climates (which I assume is what we have here, except in summer, of course) you can plant artichoke seeds in the fall and harvest in the spring. 
Say what? 
Man. I am so excited. I was tempted to buy all the lettuce and greens seeds I know I'll be wanting to plant very soon but I knew I still had some seeds left over from last fall and it would be the smart thing to check that out before I went on a seed-buying frenzy. 
Do you suppose this is somehow related to my baby obsession? 

Speaking of babies, here's what the arugula I planted a week ago looks like right now. 

And yes, I will be thinning them and using what I take out in salads because even at the infant stage, arugula has the punchy bitter taste that I find so delicious. 
From that small picture you can see why Mr. Moon likes to make the rows for me to plant in himself. 
Sigh.

The bee balm is purpling up. 

There are quite a few blossoms on it. 

The Seminole pumpkins are making enough pumpkins that I have no idea what we'll be doing with all of them. Giving some away, I guess. I doubt that all of the pumpkins now forming will grow to maturity. And by golly, I just did a little more research on these heirloom pumpkins and I am going to be harvesting that first pumpkin the vines produced tomorrow AND I am going to pick a few of the small, immature ones to cook like squash because I am reading that the pumpkins are good like this. Plus, picking them will encourage the growth of new ones. 
Well I'll be darned. You learn something new every day. 

And because it wouldn't be a complete post without a picture of Maurice, here we go. 

She's keeping an eye on me while I distribute the mealworms. 

And, okay. Here are some pictures of a cicada I found dead on the back porch. These bugs fascinate me. 

They definitely have some bulgy eyes, don't they? And they are large. Very, very large. But completely harmless and they make music. I love and respect them.

It's been a terrific day. 
Thank you, Michael for letting me share your birthday with you. I enjoyed it so much. Keep on with this living thing, okay? You are precious. 

Love...Mary

She Shall Be Missed

I am sure that a great many of us have one or more of these beautiful kitchen towels hanging off their oven doors. They were all made by a woman named Joanne Noragon who wove each and every one of them on her very cool old loom and sold them via the internet from a link on her blog which was named Cup on the Bus. 
And just as many of us have her towels, many of us read a post on that blog a few days ago written by her daughter telling us that Joanne had just been diagnosed with a tumor that was really not appropriate to treat considering Joanne's age and general state of health. And Joanne, being Joanne, chose to simply go into hospice and let things happen as they would. As her daughter Beth said, "And if there is one thing Joanne has always been very clear about, it is that she intends to make her own decisions about how she lives- and how she leaves."
I thought that was beautiful, true, and exactly Joanne. 
And she didn't waste any time. She got the job done, leaving on her own terms just a few days later. I would expect no less from a woman who was so incredibly determined, intelligent, and strong in so many ways, including her beliefs. 
The world will be poorer for her loss and it was made richer by her presence here. She was an inspiration to so many of us. I know she was to me. And she educated me on how one can accept and adapt as age requires changes.
She fought the good fight in so many ways. She raised her family on her own, she did not suffer fools gladly, she was an artist, an artisan, and generally just one hell of a woman. 
She will be missed. I feel so fortunate that I got to know her in this strange and magical way and that I have tangible objects she made with her own hands that I will probably use for the rest of my life. And every time I do use one, I will think of her. I will think of Joanne. 

I needed to say that. 

There is very little else I need to say this evening. It's been another slow day. Glen and I did go to Waffle House this morning for breakfast instead of having our usual Sunday morning breakfast on the back porch that I'd made. He invited me, I accepted. It would have been so very perfect if it hadn't been so damn cold where we were sitting. 

How ungrateful of me to complain about being cold while eating a nice breakfast that someone else made, especially in light of all the moaning and bitching I've been doing about the heat here. 

Oh- here's something. 

Another crow gift. Mr. Moon found it, not on a stump but right next to it when he was watering the fruit trees. Although it looks a bit too large and heavy for a crow to carry in its beak, it is not. Our crows are huge and what looks like a stone is really only a piece of masonry that came from a pile of glass bricks we have piled up right next to where the stumps are and is not very heavy at all. There is no other other explanation for what it was doing there. As Glen said, it didn't just fly over the fence and land by the stump on its own. 
Here we are, seventy-two years old and fascinated and excited about the feeding of crows and becoming part of their exchange system. 
I certainly didn't see this coming and yet, as they say, here we are. 

And here I go to pop the meatloaf and baking potatoes into the oven.  
Popping the meatloaf and baking potatoes into the oven is about the most fifties phrase I can think of. 
And yet, again, here we are. 

The spiderwebs are back. 

Sigh. 

Love...Ms. Moon

I Believe I May Be Under The Weather

Not a great picture of the moon from last night but definitely the best one I've ever taken with a phone camera. And that light-aura was indeed present in real life. It was dramatic. I first typed "dreamatic" and perhaps that should be a new word because it was that, too. 

Last night I ended my post with the words, "I feel incredibly fortunate tonight, which is a fine way to feel," and I did and it did. Today, however, I have felt bitchy and whiney once again and it is not a fine way to feel at all. In fact, I think I don't feel that well in general which is unusual for me and for THAT I am definitely grateful. 
Perhaps it's just this eternal heat that saps our energy and makes everything so much harder. I think if I were living in Scarlet O'Hara times (and thank god, I'm not), I would be complaining of having the vapors. I feel limp and enervated, lacking in both spine and spirit. My head feels too heavy for my neck and every time I go past a bed I feel a great urge to lie down on it, to go ahead and give in but I don't because I'm afraid I won't sleep tonight if I do. 
And there's nothing wrong with me. 
I am sure it's all in my (too heavy) head. 

I tidied my back porch today, taking off the tablecloth and replacing it with my favorite one, throwing away the detritus which does accumulate on that table, putting a few books on shelves because I'm not doing anything with them out here. Trying to create order because that always makes me feel better. I attacked the wispy webs that seem to be everywhere on the porch. The spiders who make them are almost invisible and yet they manage to poop and spin these ridiculous and unattractive webs. Ghost webs, is how I think of them. I am generally quite tolerant of spiders and even appreciative of their beauty and skill but these leave me only annoyed. I wiped down the flat surfaces on the porch and swept the floor of it. Yesterday's mowing by Mr. Moon sent great quantities of the black dust that covers everything here through the screens. And that feels better too. 

I watered porch plants and hauled a large pot out of the camellia bed that had nothing in it but dirt and I planted some kalancho sprouts I'd brought back from Roseland in it and then I planted a very large, very overgrown kalancho I bought months ago at a nursery in the ground but that is not going to work. The stem is not sturdy enough to hold the plant up although it's a pretty girthy stem. I need to prune the dang thing and make cuttings. I need to encourage it to reproduce. And I need to find another pot to move to the kitchen garden area where we get the most sun in which to plant those cuttings. I have two very large and empty pots on my swing porch but I can't move them myself. I'm going to have to ask Mr. Moon to do it for me and I hate asking him for that help which is ridiculous. He doesn't mind. 

Look what he did today.

He rewired the fifty pound lamp from Tom's collection of collected items, put the bulbs back in, and even superglued one of the shades that had broken. It's pretty cool. I think we might call it a "conversation piece."

He also fixed up the lamp I use on the back porch which needed some work. 

He's such a good fixer. 

I have nothing of interest to say or report. I can't even force myself to read much about what's going on in this country and the world right now. I'm sick of it. I am sick from it. We all are. There is a horrible, vile, deadly infestation of rot in our country, our world, and where it all started, I am not quite certain but I know who the carrier was and is and I know the lab where it was created is located at this moment in the White House which has been taken over, not by mad scientists, but by insanely power-hungry, demented, and obscenely wealthy men whose desire for more and more money can never be sated, who, while they are at it, allow the Demented in Chief to destroy and defile everything about what used to be called The People's House but which is now half in ruins. Quite literally. 

I'm going to go make some egg rolls. 

I am hoping tomorrow is a better day. 

Love...Ms. Moon

There's No Place Like Home

Maurice likes to help me with the distribution of the crows' mealworms most days. She follows me from stump to stump to supervise. The crows don't seem to be the least bit worried about her presence. 
They've been acting a bit weird recently. As I said, only four of the five have been showing up while there has been at least one, if not more, who stays in the trees and yells something in Crow language that I certainly don't understand. 
This morning, however, the fifth crow returned to eat with the others and I could hear another one in the tree above them. Now my story-telling brain is thinking that perhaps yes, the fifth crow did indeed find a mate and has been trying to teach and encourage that bird to join the others for the daily mealworms. If a sixth crow shows up, that may show the truth of my theory. 
Or not. I am fond of a good theory and I have a million of them. 
When Glen fed them on Wednesday because I was at pottery, he found another red berry-like object in the very center of a stump, just as I had found a few weeks ago. We have determined that it is indeed a seed from a magnolia cone, but one that has been aged a bit and has lost its shine and hard shell. Perhaps these more mature seeds are the ones that are good to eat and so they are gifting us with something special. 
Who knows? 
Certainly not me but I do feel fairly certain that both seeds were left purposefully. Now, as to what that purpose is- I have no idea. 

Here's another thing I have no clue about as to why, but I found myself with another fairly long list of things we needed at Publix and Costco today. How this could possibly be true is a complete mystery. I think it's probably NOT true, it's just that I have a bit of a disorder when it comes to making sure I have all the things I need to make all the meals which is so funny because at this moment, I am completely out of ideas for meals. 
Or so it seems. 
Disorder or not, I did go to town where I met Glen for lunch. He was already there, having had errands to run. We met at the Cuban place. I have become a regular there. Today's server was the darling, smallest woman with the inordinately long and black eyelashes. I'm pretty sure they are not original equipment but are after-market accessories. Whatever. They are lovely and she has great skill in applying them. 
Lunch was fine but getting to the restaurant almost did me in. The traffic in Tallahassee is becoming untenable. For me, at least. 
Here I am, about to sound like a very old woman which is fine, because I am a pretty old woman, at least, but I can remember when that part of Tallahassee was nothing but a two-lane road through woods and pastures and now there are six lanes in some parts of it with businesses and office buildings lining both sides of the that road. Even getting into the little strip mall where the restaurant is can use up every bit of patience I have. Add to that the small-ish parking spaces and the absolutely obscene and insane size of the trucks so many of the urban cowboys around here drive and finding a parking place and then actually getting your car into it is far more stressful than it should be. 
I know this is nothing at all compared to the situation in Atlanta or LA or even Tampa or Orlando or Jacksonville but my god, this is Tallahassee. 
Whine, whine, whine, bitch, bitch, bitch. 
Quit going to town so often, Mary! 
Okay, OKAY.

But I did at least get to see Lily as I shopped at her Publix which is always a sweetness. She looked FABULOUS today. Even more fabulous than usual. She got her hair cut yesterday and then colored the front of it a sort of purplish-blue. I really love watching Lily interact with her customers. I know I've said this so many times but she's just such a very kind and respectful human being and I can tell that so many of the people she serves really appreciate her. 
The Publix shopping wasn't so bad but Costco was absolutely packed. Costco is always absolutely packed. Or at least it is every time I go. I did not see Brenda. 
Sigh.
In fact, I really didn't see but a few of the regular employees I generally see. So that was a disappointment. But hey- you know. I was there for Cheerios and cucumbers and coffee and raisins, not socialization. 
Theoretically. 
I honestly considered buying a Shark vacuum cleaner so you know I wasn't in my right mind. Suddenly, though, it seemed like a good idea. They were on sale. I have no functioning vacuum cleaner. This is because I hate vacuuming. I will sweep and dust mop but please don't make me vacuum. Of course vacuums have come a long way from the days when I hauled around my grandmother's Electrolux canister vacuum cleaner which the kids used to call The Dead Pig. 
So maybe I would LOVE to vacuum now! 
I doubt it. 

And that's about it. Mr. Moon just came in from mowing and is taking a shower before he makes us martinis. 
Tonight is extra-special because not only are the sheets clean, they are NEW! And these are really lovely sheets, bought from Garnet Hill, not Costco (although there's nothing wrong with Costco sheets) because Glen encouraged me to buy some just like a set of other Garnet Hill sheets that we've had for a very long time which are still quite luxurious. 
I am excited. I tried to do a particularly good job making the bed up with them.

The color of the new sheets is supposed to be some sort of green and although I'm not excited about it, the color doesn't offend me. Besides, it's dark when we're in bed so it really doesn't matter. 

So that's it. Here we are, all the way to another Friday. Still hot. Still dry. The forecast says once again that it will rain tomorrow which is what it always says. Promises, promises. 
As always, we'll see. Whatever the weather I hope to be right here, watching the crows, being awed and amazed at the rapid growth of the arugula, watering my porch plants, and happy. Or at least content. 

I feel incredibly fortunate tonight which is a fine way to feel. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

How Could I Live Without These Things?

I was hauling some things out to the burn pile today and one of the fallen branches I picked up was covered in this lichen. Now you know, I have seen this particular type of lichen for most of my life and I never really considered what it is exactly. Hell, I didn't even know it was a lichen. Even though I had to take some fairly advanced biology courses for nursing school, I don't remember that much about a whole lot of things, fungi and lichens being two of them. 
Google Lens says this is Usnea florida (Flowery Beard Lichen) and my plant ID calls it Parmeliaceae which is a family of lichen that can grow and flourish just about anywhere, from tree canopies to in-between rocks. They thrive in a multitude of climates as well, ranging from the Arctic to the rainforest. It is a massive family with more than 27000 species within it. 
I cannot claim to now know a lot more about it than I did before but at least I put a little effort into learning a little more about it. 
It's very cool, isn't it? Nature is simply never-endingly diverse and fascinating. 

My outside work today consisted of pulling up the rest of the larger variety of field pea vines and doing a little more weeding. Also, I pulled up another tomato plant and a few pepper plants that are no longer viable as well as the eggplants which have spent all of their energy and just looked so very, very exhausted and ready to be put out of their misery. 
Bless their hearts. I thank them for their service. 

Garden pictures.

The Morning Glory That Is Attempting To Eat The Earth. 
Yes. It is pretty. And next year it will be growing on even more fences, choking whatever else is trying to grow within its reach of root and vine. 
See the roses up there? 

The teeniest, tiniest sprouts of arugula which I planted DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY! Arugula don't mess around, y'all. 

Maurice making her final tour of the field peas before I pulled them. 
And...

Maurice checking this out:

Now, had I ever really studied the underside of the pumpkin blossom? No. I had not. Is it exquisite? 
Yes. Yes it is. And see that baby pumpkin? Babies everywhere! 

And finally, my sun-starved firespike is finally blooming. 

I have such a special place in my heart for the firespike. It is not, to my knowledge or in my experience, invasive. I take great care every fall to take cuttings and root them over the winter and then plant them in the spring. They do recover from freezes but they show no signs of a preternatural desire to cover the earth as so many other things in this yard do. 
And the hummingbirds love them. 
I think their particular shade of scarlet is especially pleasing and the green of their leaves make a beautiful contrast. They will bloom until first frost, most likely. 

So we shall let this post be mostly a botanical one. 
Yesterday, when I was at pottery and so much was going on in the studio with chat and music and the sounds of the throwing-down of clay on the wedging table and the wheels, all of which I really do love, I stepped outside to sand off a few rough edges of my leaf platter and the sudden cessation of all of that was instantly calming and because the pottery studio is housed in a community center on a park, there were the sounds of crickets and the breezes in the trees and it struck me that there is a very, very good reason I want to be outside so much, even if that is only to be sitting on my back porch. 
I am not the sort of woman who needs to be hiking in the mountains or kayaking on the rivers. But I do very much need to be outside with trees around me, with birds and their songs and calls to admire, and the sounds of insects with their hums and their chirps, their clicks and their whirs, with at least a piece of the sky visible, a place to look up and notice and be at peace with. And it would seem that I also need to interact with the dirt and what grows in it, to dig and to pull and to plant and to pick. 
There is no end to the learning, the joy, the peace, the mystery, the delight. 
And it is where I belong. If a river is involved or an ocean or yes, even mountains, sometimes, I will not complain. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Back To Pottery

There were some shocking changes announced at pottery this morning, the main one being that at the beginning of each class session we will be given ten tickets, each one required for the firing of a specific size of a glazed piece. The piece has to be a certain size, which is about a six by six square, maybe? per ticket. This leaves someone like me, who makes mostly bigger pieces, shit out of luck because as many squares as the item covers, that's how many tickets you must use. I can see why they've instituted this plan though. People make many, many items to be fired, some large, some small and if you make a lot of pieces that are large or larger, you are taking up a great deal of kiln space and I can see how that's not fair. The prices for the classes at the community center are more than reasonable so yeah, it makes sense. There is only so much space in a kiln, and only so much time the kiln operators can give to the work. 
Still. 
Sigh. 
That pathetic little fishy is what I worked on today. I had mostly finished it last session but I decided to just concentrate on it. It needs to be fired now but...I DON'T WANT TO WASTE ANY MORE TICKETS THAN I NEED TO! What I had planned for Little Fish was to make more like him/her to hang on a wall and I also thought about making bubbles to go with the wall fishes. So, in order to get my full ticket value, I may now make the bubbles because they will fit into a square with the fish. 
This is all rather confusing and poor Gail, our teacher, had to go through the whole process and explain it and answer questions and tell us why this was happening, and so forth. 
But besides that, it was nice to be back and I think that although there are ten of us in the class, there was only one person I did not know. It was so good to see Lizzie and hear about her latest life events. Gentleman Caller™ stopped in to see us. He and Lizzie are going along, getting along, doing well, I think. I love it when he comes in. We all look up from what we're doing and say hello with great enthusiasm. We may all have a little crush on G.C.™ I'll just tell you right now that he is adorable. I told Lizzie today that if she ever gets mad at him she should just tell him not to say anything for awhile and simply look at him. I'm not sure she'll take that advice to heart. She's not really that sort of woman. 

Yes, everyone liked my shirt. 

Jessie worked on the wheel today and she made a beautiful vase and a few small plates. They are lovely. Her muscle memory is still very much intact. 

She and I went to lunch afterwards. We talked about a lot of things. We still have a lot of catching up to do. I wanted to hear what going back to work has been like and how the boys are doing in school and if they like their teachers and all of that stuff. 
We also talked about the shit circus going on in America right now and the diaper-clad, demented shit circus master who, for whatever reason, is still the...
Okay. I just can't say it. I cannot deal with this any more. I'm not ignoring the news, I'm just not going to doom scroll anymore. At least for now. 

Is he dead yet?

Once again, it seems like it's trying to rain. Thunder, a drop in temperature (thank-you, thank-you, thank-you) and darkening skies but no rain. It almost reminds me of the days at the end of my pregnancies when I wanted so desperately to go into labor and I'd walk and I'd jog and I'd drink teas specific to that purpose, and as these things go, it happened when it was time to happen. 

All right. Here are the two pieces that I worked on last session which finally got fired.

Pruners for scale. I'll be lucky if I have enough tickets to fire those two when they're glazed. And it will take me this entire session to get that accomplished so...
Perhaps everyone will not be getting a platter for Christmas. 

Oh well. And la-di-dah. 

It's all just clay and glaze, an idea and an attempt to create something from the idea. And let us remember- not all ideas are really worth worrying about. 

Meanwhile, I better go make some supper. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Weed, Jesus, Voting, Crows- Welcome To Lloyd

That, my friends, is a blue-tailed, five-lined skink. Skinks come in all shapes and sizes and especially colors and if I have a favorite, I guess it would be the blue-tailed because, well, obviously. I am loathe to admit this but skinks weird me out. They look so...slippery. And they are also more snake-like than our little anoles, some more so than others. But this one was sitting on the back porch steps this morning when I went out to feed the crows and I don't know what was going on but he didn't seem to be frightened of me in the least and let me take his picture. 

There were big doin's in Lloyd today. Well, not really. But sort of. Glen and I went to the Baptist church to vote. This is the very large, white Baptist church which is a pretty boring place to vote. When the volunteer who manned the door opened it up for us I was somewhat shocked to take in the absolute, no doubt about it, smell of weed. 
Strong. 
I looked at the four volunteers, all of them white-headed and around our age and simply could not imagine one of them bring out a joint and asking if anyone wanted a toke. I mean, I know old people smoke reefer. Hell, it's legal here for medical purposes and anyone over the age of fifty is going to have medical issues that qualify you to walk into any of the many, many dispensaries and buy cannabis in a variety of forms, strains, and strengths. 
Still. 
But I let that one go and we voted and after we left I mentioned the odor to Glen who said, "Yeah. It was that guy who was in there voting when we got there." 
Now. Why I had not realized that shows the mental deterioration I suffer from. The man of whom Glen spoke had been a younger guy with dreads. Okay! That made sense. 
The volunteers told us it had been a pretty busy morning. "We've had 88 voters so far!" said one of the men. And honestly, that is a lot for little Lloyd. There are other voting locations too. 
We stopped at the Post Office on the way home and lo and behold, all of the My Gypsy Soul Boutique signs and funky decor had disappeared and were replaced with this.

Well now. A farm shop sounds promising, does it not? 
The "Rooted in faith" thing sounded a little, well, off-putting for me but fresh eggs, fresh produce, nursery plants? Count me in. 
I looked them up when I got home and when they say rooted in faith, they ain't kidding. 
Check them out. 
Talk about being eat-up with Jesus. 
And then there's this.

I'm sorry but, Jesus Christ. 

Well, that's Lloyd. 
Everyone who's tried to start a business in that tiny building seems to have had such high hopes and not a one of them has had any luck at all. There have been at least five that I know of. Perhaps the Jesus Farmers will finally break the curse. 
And hey- they are also certified concrete paver installers so they have that going for them. 
It amuses me that we've gone from crystals and sage and Tarot card readings to Brad, a family man of God, and his wife Meredith, who is whole heartedly committed to Jesus, her husband Brad, her children, and whatever business venture God has them take on next. 

All right. Here was the big news from The Church of the Batshit Crazy today.

For the past few days, only four out of the five-member murder of crows have shown up. What you're seeing in that picture is the four crows of whom I speak, plus a squirrel which the crows don't seem to mind sharing their space with. They were all busy, gobbling up the birdseed and shelled sunflower seeds Mr. Moon had dumped off the bird feeder tray due to the fact it had all gotten wet. That did not seem to bother the squirrel or the crows at all. 
I am not too disturbed about the missing crow. If my theory was correct, that fifth bird was a juvenile and if I am going to be all optimistic about this (and I am), I think he or she has found a mate and they're off doing whatever it is that new crow couples do. That makes perfect sense, doesn't it? 

I got my arugula planted and watered in. 

That little patch is all I think we need at this moment. It didn't take me but a few minutes to rake back the pine needle mulch and use my finger to make rows and plant the bitty baby seeds in. However, by the time I was done I literally had sweat running off of me. The greenery you see in that picture is the volunteer arugula I'm still using and a third generation volunteer zinnia sprout. 

Because I'm insane and because I have a great need to tend to this yard, I tried to do a little work on the old kitchen garden but ended up working on the fence where the confederate jasmine grows, taking out a dang elder berry tree that escaped my notice before it got too big to just pull. I merely cut it but had to also cut a lot of the jasmine vines to release it from the fence. 
And what does this accomplish?
Not a whole hell of a lot. That's what. 

A very short trivia fact:

In the 1930's the Hays Code was adopted by the major studios in Hollywood as a sort of self-censoring body meant to protect the innocent and decent from any of that nasty Hollywood moral-destroying movie making. AND, as I quote from Wikipedia
"The first major instance of censorship under the Production Code involved the 1934 film, Tarzan and His Mate, in which brief nude scenes involving a body double for actress Mauren O'Sullivan were edited out of the master negative of the film." 

And because I love you, I give you this.

And of course, it was after this that both Tarzan's and Jane's costumes became far less revealing and skimpy, to the detriment of all.

Maurice has discovered her throne. 

Mr. Moon says this is exactly what he had envisioned when he saw the chair. 
I am thinking about changing her name to "Lulu" in hopes that the reason she's so freaking mean is because she hates what we call her. I've been testing it out. 
She still slashed me twice yesterday. 
Sigh. 

Look what has arrived!

Just in time for tomorrow's back-to-pottery class. I'm pretty excited. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Gossip, A Gigantimo Branch, Mr. Moon Comes To The Rescue Again, And...Tarzan. Sigh

I know it's ridiculously hard to tell what you're looking at in that picture but it's a huge fallen branch. Or, as Mr. Moon called it, "Gigantimo." This is one of the things he says. If something is gigantimo, it's really big. 
As is this branch. Here's where it broke off from the live oak from which it fell.

Glen said it came down a few days ago and I hadn't even noticed. It's right by the gate, that area where I pull crocosmia and other noxious plants as a hobby. I suppose I hadn't noticed because I hadn't gone out of the gate for a few days. I'm surprised we didn't hear it though. Or feel the earth shake. I know we got some extremely brisk winds the other night and it may have happened then. 
A chainsaw is going to have to be involved in the removal of that branch.

I did leave the house and yard today. I had an appointment to get my teeth cleaned. 
The fun never ends around here, does it? 
So my dentist's office has changed considerably. I have discussed this. My dentist retired and he's handed over the business to another dentist, Dr. Loeb, nee Jones. That woman has kicked ass and doubled the size of the office and probably the practice. And it's an ALL WOMAN office now. 
Can I get a Hallelujah?
Amen.  
Almost my entire family has started going to her and everyone is quite pleased. This includes Mr. Moon. Another dentist has joined the practice whom I have not yet met but I will, seeing as how Dr. Loeb had a baby two weeks ago and I hear that she is now considering taking an entire year off. 

I probably shouldn't say this but I sort of love hearing this. Women who fall in love with their babies so hard that they choose to stay home with them rather than putting them in daycare are women I can relate to. Now of course, not every woman has this option. By any means. Even saying this demonstrates my privilege. But Dr. Loeb's husband is also a doctor and I think they are probably doing okay. I shouldn't be speculating about this when I really have no basis on which to do so but from what my dental hygienist told me, that's what it sounds like. 
And speaking of dental hygienists, I have a new one. My former one, the darling Maddie, has moved to another office and I hear that she is trying for a baby of her own and just wanted a new beginning, a change. Maddie and I had bonded because she and her husband both hunt and although I don't, and never have and never will, my husband does so I sort of get it. I guess you can't talk to just anyone about hunting but she could talk to me. So I was sorry she wasn't there but I do like her replacement who went to school with Maddie. She told me that Maddie had always been a tomboy and had worn camo in high school which I sort of love. Hannah, the new lady, said that when she'd seen pictures of Maddie's wedding she'd said, "Oh! She dressed up!" 
And by the way, Hannah is a triplet. 
I can learn a lot about people in a very short time. 
This is one of the joys of my life. 

So my teeth were generally fine but there is one place around an implant which is very hard to floss and that could endanger the implant. I asked if I should get a Water Pik and she said that yes, that would be a good idea so, off to Costco I went and now I own a Water Pik. I shall learn to use it tomorrow. I'm too exhausted tonight. Teeth cleaning, Costco, Publix. And of course I had to get lunch because my appointment was at 1:00 so I went to the Cuban place and read my New Yorker while I ate delicious foods. 

Mr. Moon snaked my shower drain and believes he has taken care of the problem. I hope so. He is so good at so many things. Right now he's out in the garden in the ten-thousand-degree, burning-surface-of-the-sun heat, burying scallop guts and planting his okra plants. And he will do an excellent job of it. 

Here are the scallops he shucked and vacuum-sealed, ready for the freezer.

They are soon to be delivered to the children. 

I just went out and picked a little arugula and some basil for a salad. I have got to get more arugula in the ground. The smell of arugula when I pick it excites me almost as much as a Tarzan movie starring Johnny Weissmuller.

My first boyfriend and that is no lie. Some girls my age would have been crushing on Timmy from "Lassie" or Ricky Nelson. 
Not me. I knew a real man when I saw one. 
I believe I may have seen one in Mr. Moon so it's no real surprise I married him. I feel certain that Tarzan could have snaked a drain, just as I feel certain that Mr. Moon would have looked just as good in an animal pelt loincloth when I met him. 
I think he'd still look pretty good in one. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Wanna See Some Pumpkins? SURE You Do

Ellen D. asked me if I could take a picture of the shadow cast by that valence in the bathroom and I did take one on the door of the bathroom and it was okay but then I took this one in the spirit of being all artsy and shit. I do like black and white. I also love my skillets. 

Well, suddenly the Seminole pumpkins are pumping out pumpkins. They are appearing in more numbers every day. I wonder how many will make it to maturity. I just looked them up and supposedly, they can grow to be from around 5-12 pounds apiece when they're ready to harvest. Also, due to various varieties, they can come in different shapes and colors. Some are roundish, resembling jack-o-lantern pumpkins, except with bumps while some are even shaped like butternut squash. And the vines can grow to be 25 feet long. 
This I knew already. 

Here are three I found today while just giving the garden a casual look over.

Some are growing on the fence, some inside the fence, and some outside the fence. Their love (of life) obviously knows no bounds. 

I'm about to pull up the rest of the pea vines. It is time. 
I will miss their delicate and exquisitely ladylike blossoms. Here's one of the last ones. 

I am looking forward to the okra blooms if we ever get any planted. They look like hibiscus because they are related. 

I did not take that picture but swiped it off a blog called The Almost Retired Life via google images. I hope they don't sue me. I liked this photo because it shows the flower and the vegetable. 
Let's try not to get into a big discussion about whether or not okra is even edible. To some, it simply is not. To others, it's a treat whether fried, stewed with tomatoes, or pickled. When it comes to pickles, I think okra puts cucumbers to shame. And another thing to know about okra is that it came from Africa as did so many of the best things in this country. One of the African words for it is "gumbo" and you can make the connection from there. 

The heat is unrelenting. I didn't even try to do any outside work today. I spent some time trying to research the local candidates I'll be voting for or against on Tuesday. I did not early-vote this year. Not sure why. I think I feel daunted, not by the big races like governor, senators, representatives, but by circuit judges, school board members, commissioner of agriculture. 
Etc. I tried to do my due diligence but I am so woefully ignorant. Not when it comes to the higher offices, of course. 
Florida actually has the possibility of electing it's first Black governor this year, which, HURRAY! except NOPE! He's a huge supporter of the orange POS in the White House and has been for years. Also, he is a Republican. 
Only in Florida. 
And here in good old Jefferson County, candidates' promises all seemingly must include a declaration of their deep faith in Jesus and the offices they hold in their churches. 
It's fucking depressing. 
Not all. But many. One candidate running for the House, posted a long Facebook thing about how he's so sorry for things he did in his past but now he's found Jesus and is a faithful member of his church and that his sordid past shaped him into who he is today and that's why he's the best candidate. I'm not saying this isn't possible. I'm just saying, "Shut the Fuck Up."
And the Democratic nominee who is sure to win the primary for governor was a Republican up until four years ago. 

Sorry. It's too hot. I'm cranky. I'm old. As my dear friend Balboa would have said, "Bite me."
But I'm going to vote. You better believe it. 

Love...Ms. Moon