Oh God. Getting Into The Philosophical Here

August and Levon went up the mountain a little ways to Grandma Julia's house this morning to do arts and crafts and came home with things they'd written. I hope you can read them. August wrote a poem which you can see above. And Levon wrote this.

Yes. They are my grandchildren but I think these writings are fantastic! Levon's title alone is perfect. 

I talked to Jessie on the phone this morning. We hadn't really talked on the phone much since they left which is odd but we do text a lot. Relatively. We caught up on some stuff and made plans, both serious and silly about what we'd do when her dad and I get there. 
We both determined that the house I've rented is the same one we stayed in in 2022. The furniture and light fixtures appear to have been changed. We could be wrong, but the outside looks like it to me. You'd think I could remember something like that from four years ago but no, I don't. 

I have packed exactly one skirt. 
I had Glen get my suitcase out of the closet and I put the skirt and two dresses in it and then took the dresses out. I have two other ones I'm going to put in and those and the dress I'll be wearing up there are going to be all the dresses I pack, I do believe. Two pairs of cargo shorts. A few tank tops and tee shirts. Underwear. A nightgown. A bathing suit. Perhaps one pair of jeans and I probably won't need them but it does get cooler there at night than it does here. 
And I won't even need all of that. 
I'm glad we so recently went on our little trip to Tennessee because perhaps I have learned something from that about how very little I really need and how very much I do not need.

We shall see how well I learned these lessons tomorrow when get serious about it.

What I mostly did today was to finish shelling all the field peas I'd picked and then blanching and bagging them. They're in the freezer now. This is a labor of love because it's so labor intensive. Of course it's not hard work and shelling peas does not make my left hand go numb like snapping green beans does. Different movement of the wrist. And I watched a few more episodes of The Bear and am on Season 2 now. I am glad there are five seasons all together because I think this is a show I can easily stay involved with, continue being entertained by. Sure seems like it at this point. 
But here's my entire output of shelled peas which are now in the freezer.

Not too impressive, right? But the peas I'd picked and already shelled will not go to waste and hopefully, when we get back, there will still be more for me to process. And every pea will be consumed and enjoyed at some point this winter. 

Sometimes I feel like I'm being such a fool for spending so much time growing food and canning or freezing or pickling it. I mean- we can afford to buy groceries at the store and if you figured in labor costs, we are not saving any money at all. And even if the food we grow does taste better and is innocent of chemical fertilizers or insecticides, am I making the best use of the dwindling number of years I have left? I wonder this about pottery too. I am not helping one soul in this world by spending weeks on a project, whether fish or flower, and nothing I make is ever going to have any more value than that of nostalgia. 
If that. 
None of these things seem to matter much but if you think about the enormity of the universe and the fact that we are all just going to die at the end of our lives, it doesn't really matter much if something doesn't matter much. 
Do you know what I mean?
So many people have theories about what the purpose of our human existence is on this planet. Is it to preach some gospel so that people will be assured of an afterlife? 
Fuck no. That I am pretty sure of. 
Is it to have the cleanest, tidiest house in the community or the neatest and most well-trimmed yard on the block? 
Is to make the most money, to wear the most expensive jewelry, to have the most sculpted face and body? Is it to be famous, to be heroic, to live forever or whatever the next best thing is, in the history of humankind like Plato or Socrates or DaVinci or Michelangelo or Linus Pauling or Shakespeare or whoever it was that made the art on the walls of caves in France 20,000 years ago? Is it to die a horrible death in the name of a god or a country or a cause? Is it to find the cure for cancer or be the first man on the moon or the designer of a royal bride's wedding dress?
I have no idea. 
Biologically, our purpose is to make more of ourselves. To breed and create new human beings to continue the species but just as every oak tree does not create new oak trees, not all of us are meant for reproductive purposes for many and various reasons including not having any interest in doing that at all. 
Good Old Jesus supposedly said that the most important thing is to love our neighbors as ourselves. 
This is generally harder to do than it sounds but most of us are capable of loving those we love and at least trying to respect those we don't. In these days and times that is not always possible. 
You know what I'm talking about. 

And I have no answers. All I know is that I do love working in my garden and also in my yard. Actually, anywhere I can be on my knees in the dirt. I enjoy pottery a great deal. I loved my babies more than anything I have ever known and I loved the fact that my body, which I had never loved or respected at all, had allowed these humans to form and grow and be born from and then was able to nourish them, and then my grandbabies too, whose lives I have been so fortunate to be involved with. I love being in a relationship with my husband, even with all of the sturm und drang which has necessarily sometimes arisen in our 42 years together. I love cooking for those I love. I love my house. I love the ocean, the rivers, the creeks, the lakes. 
I love the trees. 
And I love the writing. So much more than you can probably imagine. 

And is loving these things a good enough purpose in life? 

Who knows? Not me. In this instance, I am clueless. All I know is that I think love has a lot to do with it. And love is not always easy nor is it simple. And as important as I think it is, I have no idea if it's the true meaning of the purpose of our lives. 
I don't think I ever will know. 
I do know that kindness is very important. I stand by that. And humor. Where in the world would we be without it? My advice is, never trust anyone who has no sense of humor. 

I've made a soup of the chicken I roasted last Friday (I think) and carrots and green beans and squash and tomatoes from our garden. 
Also, other vegetables. 
I will add orzo in just a few minutes and I'll grate a little parmesan over it before we eat. 

If there is anything I would like to be remembered for, it is that I could cook, and I could dance. But you know what? In fifty years I won't be remembered at all. 
And that is fine with me. 

Love...Ms. Moon