A Full And Loving Day

Well, it has begun. These two beauties were growing on the very large bush beside the back porch where I have a veritable grove of camellias. They are not quite white, but a very, very pale blush pink. Or at least, that's what I see. They are always some of the best bloomers. I really should make more of an attempt this year to identify the different varieties. I am as excited to see the different ones open as I would be to see old and dear friends. 

It's been a good day. I was so very, very emotional when I got up. I know I'm an easy cryer, but this morning, there was almost nothing that didn't make me cry. Three different blog posts welled my tears to overflowing. I have no idea why but eventually, my heart returned to its natural size and function, and the tears went back to wherever they had come from. 

When Mr. Moon got home from duck hunting, instead of settling into his chair for his usual Sunday catch-up nap as he usually does, he went out to where the sink is going to go and began to dig the trenches he needs to lay the water pipe. 
Now this is not an easy job. The ground there is filled with roots, some of them as big around as my arm. Add to that, due to his neuropathy, he cannot stand in one spot to use a shovel so the man sat on his butt and shoveled from that position. And...he worked for hours. There is no holding him back. I know he's tired this evening though. 
Obviously, I could not just spend my day being lazy and useless and so I decided to bow to the inevitable and do a little housecleaning. My kitchen floor had gotten to the point where the spot cleaning I'd been doing with a rag and a spray bottle of Fabuloso, white vinegar, and water was just about useless. The other day when it was quite warm, I was barefoot and I realized I had indeed passed the point at which the state of that floor was unacceptable, as in my feet were sticking to it. 
And to add to that, I realized I had not mopped Mr. Moon's bathroom in god only knows how long and so I proceeded to clean his bathroom sink as well as my bathroom sink, including pulling up the plugs and cleaning off all the hair and gook, including dusting the wood of the vanity his sink is set in with some furniture polish and cleaning the mirror, and then I swept the floor and gave it a good mopping. I also washed the rug that goes in there. Then I proceeded to the kitchen where I removed the bar stools, the trash cans, the step ladder, the laundry hamper I keep in there, the shoes kept by the kitchen door, and all of the other stuff where I needed to mop. I gave it two sweepings and then two moppings and it would gladly have taken another but let's not lose our minds here, okay? 
That felt good. 
And now my house smells like Fabuloso and white vinegar which is therapeutic for me in and of itself. 

So this has not been a wasted day, or at least not entirely, and I feel as if yes, I have created a more peaceful environment for us to enjoy, for a few hours, at least. 

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Do any of you remember me writing about Smitty's Club? I first wrote about it on June 26, 2008 which would have made it seventeen years ago, right? Or thereabouts. 
I wrote another post about Smitty's Club and the era in which it and Smitty played a such a big part of our lives and when I say "our" I mean our tribe, I guess, the hippies and musicians and pot growers and carpenters and roofers and artists of Tallahassee and Jefferson County who were trying to figure it all out in a new way, sometimes stumbling, sometimes succeeding, but always with community and music. And Smitty's Club was very much a part of all of that. Here's a picture from that post. 

That was Smitty's Band at Smitty's Club. There were other folks in the picture, but I feel like if you are of a similar age to me, you will recognize them from the days of your tribe too because in so many ways, we were all from the same tribe. 
The tribe that was trying to change the world. 
Anyway. 
That post can be found HERE but I must tell you, I write in it about the death by suicide of one of the people in that picture so if that is more than you want to deal with, don't read it. Just don't. 
It's part of my life, my history, those times, but it may have nothing for you except a trigger and I do not want anyone to go through that. 

So. What brought all this back to me? 

I was going through the FaceBook reels which I spend WAY too much time on, and this one came up. 

Smitty's son, Mac, is selling cane syrup and I love it. I believe Mac is calling himself Smitty now and probably has been for awhile. When his daddy was alive, he would not have dared to call himself Smitty but I guess it's okay now. He, his own son and wife, are standing to the left of Smitty who is in the center of the picture. 
I do love cane syrup and always have a bottle in my refrigerator. It's the very best thing you can eat on a biscuit or cornbread. I just went to the website where you can order it and it's all sold out. It cost thirty five dollar a bottle which, I'm sorry, is insane. You can buy cane syrup around here for far less money although that too is pricier than any of the folks who began planting cane and ground it every fall to make syrup would have believed.

To them, this was just a way to make sugar, albeit in a less refined way. There are many online sources of information about this and I'll let you check them out if you want. I've already linked enough. 

Here's a lagniappe picture of something else blooming right now. 

The roses are having a winter frolic. I wish you could smell them. 

I better get in that clean-floored kitchen and make some supper. We're having what I told my husband is some "dang tacos." 

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. I have to say that Mac could make a trillion dollars selling the land he inherited from his father and I am a bit blown way that instead, he's using it to farm. His daddy was the same. 

So good for him.