Time, Space, Crows, And Human Life On Earth

Eventually the crows are going to let me get close enough to take a decent picture. I think this one is the one I call The Scout. He's the largest and always seems to be the one who does the reconnaissance missions. I could be wrong. It's not really that easy to identify crows. Or at least for me. 
They fly about over the tree stumps where I put their mealworms every morning and if that doesn't work, they caw at me, or as I say,  yell at me. They may even land and search around to see if by any chance I have fed them and they've just missed it. 
I go out with my little container of mealworms and whistle the same whistle that I used to use on my cats. Maurice doesn't need that whistle. She's generally either in the house, on the back porch, or right outside, defending her territory from her doppelgänger and the pretty black cat that shows up now and then.
By the time I've put food on all six of the Bradford Pear Tree stump tables, they're on the branches nearest the cafe and urging me to hurry up and get back in the house so they can eat in peace. I still have not received one tiny shiny thing, not so much as a shred of aluminum foil, and I may never get anything at all. 
It's cool. I just like looking at them. They're so interesting. 

It's rained most of the day which has been lovely. It cooled way down and after I got caught in the rain while I was in the garden and stayed there until I'd finished what I was doing, thus getting rather wet, I was actually cold and had to put a sweater on. I've still got it on. But hey! It's 87 degrees on the back porch where I am. 
Brrr...
I love it. 

I've been mostly lazy and yes, giving myself grace about it. I finished up a few French knots on a patch I'd sewn on a linen shirt that I've been patching and doing visible mending on for probably three years. On and off. 
Mostly off. 
And I realized- I was done! 

I got this shirt years and years ago at a Goodwill and it was my faithful companion until the fabric on the yoke became as thin as a spider web. I mostly used it as a bathing suit cover-up or something to put on when the temperatures dip into the high 80's. Like now. 
So it's in the wash and will be ready to go back into service. 
After I finished that, I started back to hemming my cheesecloth rags. I've been ignoring that project for awhile and we are in dire need of more of them. 
DIRE, I tell you! 
While I did these things, I watched more of The Bear, of course. I am falling in love with some of the characters, as one does as they develop. I remember texting Hank once when I was watching Reservation Dogs to tell him that I loved Willie Jack so much it made my heart hurt. 
He understood. 
Actually, all of those characters made my heart hurt with love but Willie Jack the most. 
The main character of The Bear is played by Jeremy Allen White and he has the kind of beauty that can only be seen after awhile. Do you know what I mean? If you just saw the guy buying a bag of potato chips and a six-pack of beer, you'd think, "He's rather odd-looking." He is not what we would call traditionally handsome. He's no Brad Pitt. He's no George Clooney, but he has...something. 
Many woman are like this too. You have to really shed your notions of beauty and see that there is far more to it than what we see on the surface. 
Beauty is NOT skin deep and Brad Pitt will never be as beautiful as Keith Richards is at the age of 82. 

That is not what I planned to write about. As usual. 

Glen spent a lot of the day being annoyed with himself for spending too much time in his chair. "It's killing me!" he says. 
"Hmmmm..." I say. 
I think a day of rest may be a damn good thing for him but I understand. Neither one of us is really made for sitting all day long. 
He got out of his chair though to work on the lamp he brought home the other day. 

Now that is a good-looking man. Beautiful in all the ways. 

We need to get some new glass shades as two of the ones on it were broken. They are easily found although right now we are throwing around the idea of getting green ones or pink ones. 
We shall see.

Here she is, naked and unadorned. 

The Weatherfords are on their way home. They didn't leave North Carolina until around noon so it's going to be a very long day and part of a night. I can't believe they'll be back in Florida. That must be such a difficult transition. The North Carolina mountains to North Florida. From living in a small camper to living in a regular sized house. From having the mountains as your backyard to having a...backyard...as your backyard. From having a mother/grandmother, sister/aunt, brother-in-law/uncle, and cousins as your only neighbors to having people who, although they may be very nice people, are not related to you at all for neighbors. 
Well. In some ways, it's pretty darn cool to be exposed to both worlds, to get to know all the different family members so well. 

And school will soon begin again. August (and Maggie) will be in their last year of elementary school. I cannot believe this and yet, it is true. Levon, the baby of the family (haha!) will be in third grade. Owen is a Junior in high school? I think. And Gibson is a freshman in high school, marching in the band. 
How did all of this happen? 

It's life. Just life. Why we are so amazed at how fast the years fly by is a mystery to me, just as why we are so mystified and shocked when death occurs. Or when we know we're getting near that inevitable portal into such a change of energy. Change or exchange? 
We just don't know, do we? 

It's all pretty much a fancy dance. Just as you learn the steps to one phase of the dance, the music changes and there we are. 
Or here we are. 
As Karen said, we are wisest to just roll with whatever is happening. Kids growing up, us growing older and then old. 
Life. There is no stopping it. Until it stops. 
That's pretty much it, I think, summed up in a few short words. 
Meanwhile, the planet keeps on circling the sun, the galaxies and stars keep on moving and whirling and traveling and dancing their own fancy dances. 
Isn't it amazing? 
I think so.

Love...Ms. Moon