Lagniape

 Another one. Oh my word! 

BEBES!

 Look! 
The first chick has hatched! I was out looking for eggs when I heard the definite little peeps of a new-hatched baby. I raised up Darla's hindquarters and snuck a peek and there it was. Just out of the shell. Exhausted, I am sure. It is hard work to be born, whether, as I said the other day, one emerges from a womb or from an egg. I love how she's resting on one of her still-in-the-shell siblings. Or he. Watch- all of the eggs that hatch will be roosters. 
Lord, I hope not. 
Mr. Moon and I had both noticed that Darla has not been getting off the nest at all as far as we could tell. Generally broody hens will get off the nest for a few minutes every day to eat a very quick bite, to sip a little water, to dust off in the dirt and then rush back to her eggs but I'm not sure Darla read that part of the handbook. So today I cut up some cantaloupe into tiny pieces and gave her a little dish of that and the regular chicken feed. She gobbled up the fruit and I cut more for her. I've also put a little waterer in with her, designed for chicks so that they do not drown in it and put marbles in it too as a further insurance against losing one of the babies. That has happened here before and it is heartbreaking. 
I told Mr. Moon today that I thought I'd go to the Tractor Supply and get some chick starter but he said he'd go tomorrow as he has something else to pick up. When I saw the little chick out of its shell, I panicked for a second and then looked up "homemade chick feed" and there are many recipes including oatmeal mixed with hardboiled eggs and I made a little bit of oat bran cereal but I've gotten way ahead of myself. Some websites say that chicks can go forty-eight hours after hatching without food and water as they absorb all of the remaining nutrients in the shell before they peck their way out. 
I should have known that. 

Anyway, I am very, very excited. 

I have no one to share my excitement with at the moment because Mr. Moon is at a friend's for a fish fry. I was invited too but I have lost whatever ability I may have ever had to socialize over the last year. I made a peach and blueberry and mulberry cobbler for him to take and sent him off with that and a gallon of vanilla ice cream. I'm sure that those will be far more of an asset to the party than I would be. 

So let's see. What else? 
Oh! Guess what? When you cook purple pole beans, they turn regular pole bean green. 

But they are delicious. There are little red potatoes under those beans and we ate them last night. So, so good. 
And Mr. Moon picked the first two tomatoes of the year.

They are of the Cherokee Purple variety and as such, do not get entirely red. I almost forced him to pick them, especially that bigger one. I told him that if he waited too long, it was going to get mushy in the middle and wouldn't that be a sorrow? 
He agreed. 
He picked. 
He also picked us two little sungold cherry tomatoes that were as sweet as any tomato I've ever put in my mouth. More flavor in one of those than in an entire giant store-bought tomato. You have to close your eyes when you eat them, they're so good. So sweet. 

Lily and Lauren took Magnolia June to a park in Georgia today called Wild Adventures. It's what I call a poor-man's Disney World. They advertise as being a theme park, a water park, and an animal park. I used to take my kids there occasionally. It's not very far from Tallahassee and back in those days it was still pretty low-key. Some rides, a roller coaster, animals. Now they have lots of new stuff and I'm sure that Maggie is having the best time. Here are some pictures. 

I think they've classed up the joint since I was there last. I bet Maggie is having the time of her life. 

Here's my favorite fact about Wild Adventures: Part of Zombieland was filmed there in 2009. Some of you may not know this but Zombieland is one of my favorite movies. 
And no, I'm not kidding. 
I have extremely plebeian tastes PLUS Bill Murray is in the movie as is Woody Harrelson and I love and adore Bill and have a very soft spot in my heart for Woody. 

Don't you judge me. 
Oh hell. Go ahead. Judge me all you want. I couldn't care less.

Anyway, Mr. Moon is home now. He says he can't eat again for at least two days. He brought me home a plate with fried mullet, snapper, hushpuppies and cheese grits. Guess I won't be making supper tonight. 

But I'll be eating it. 
Pass the hot sauce. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Let Us Go Down To The River

This morning I found Dottie keeping Darla company as she sits on her eggs. I opened up the hatch behind the nest to bring in more light to take the picture and there you are- the sun shining through Dottie's comb and wattle. Poor Darla. I know she is exhausted. Her babies should be appearing any day now. 

I got all my chores done early today, or at least early for me. Breakfast burritos made for my husband, sheets and clothes and towels washed and hung on the line. Then I cut up a cantaloupe and made a sandwich to take the Wacissa because Jessie and the boys and Lily and Maggie had planned an outing there today. Exciting! 

Jason is taking Owen and Gibson to Disney this weekend or to the Star Wars resort or something. That's where the water stuff is that Gibson needed a cast cover for. Here's a picture I stole off Jason's FB page. 

He got the boys out of school early to leave and so Lily got Maggie out early too and the Wacissa was her treat. I'm not sure she knows where the boys are going so don't tell her. Gibson told us that she didn't know but I'm not sure about the status of that plan. 

I got a ride with Jessie and there were very few people at the little  park when we got there. Some teenaged kids, but very well-behaved teenaged kids and some older folks. We set up our chairs and coolers with lunch and snacks and were soon joined by Lily and Maggie and also the woman who will be house-sitting for Jessie this summer whom I had not met. She turned out to be a really sweet and funny lady and I truly enjoyed meeting her. 
The kids played in the water and the sand and more children and their parents showed up and soon toys and floats and buckets and trucks and nets and shovels were being enjoyed by all. I love watching children's encounters with other children- the way they sort of just meet and become instant friends although frequently, they do not seem to know their new friends' names. It doesn't seem to matter in the least. All of these children got along sweetly and as they played in the water and in the sand, we mamas and friends all sat in the shade of a cypress tree and watched them. Jessie and Lily and Jessie's friend and I immediately got into topics that were, well, salty as the kids say these days. We talked about things that as Shelby said in "Steel Magnolias" made the fish blush.
It was great and I love being able to have this sort of relationship with my kids. So easy and so real. We did a lot of laughing. 

Pictures:

A Lily selfie.

Magnolia in the clear river water. 

Jessie took this one of her glamorous sister. 

August in Jacob's kayak. We did not know Jacob until today but he is a very fine young man and his mother is sweet. 

Jessie took this one.

Maggie on someone's float. By the time we left, there was an entire girl float gang. They seemed to be having a terrific time. Salty-ladies-to-be, most likely. 

Levon and August. Jessie took this one. I had to laugh. You know how much Levon loves to dig? Well today, for the first time, I saw him dig in the sand with just his hands and he reminded me of a dog. That sand was flying! His arms were a blur! 

I got in the water and even dove in to get my whole being wet. The water, as always, was cold and good and holy. The only problem with the entire outing was that I got bitten repeatedly by...FUCKING YELLOW FLIES and my right foot is now swollen up like a sausage on the grill and my left foot is red and itchy and to add injury to insult, while I was getting the clothes off the line when I got home, another one bit me on the calf. 
Gee Dee. I mean...really? Those evil insects love my evil blood. 

I had a Benadryl in my purse and I took it as soon as I first got bit and because of that or whatever reason, I did not have the absolutely maddening itching that I got the last time I got bit. I mean, itchy, yes. But I didn't feel like I was going to lose my mind over it. Lily gave me an ice bag to put on the afflicted areas and the cold Wacissa was right there to wade in so I was okay. And the swelling should be gone by tomorrow or maybe Sunday. 

Whatever. 
It was a lovely day. The river as beautiful as always, the people all peaceful and thoughtful. Laughing with my daughters, watching my grandchildren play and splash and dig. I put sunscreen on Levon, carefully painting it on to avoid his eyes, spreading it around his beautiful little face. He was so trusting and patient. 
Overall, another good baptism in the purified, rarified, glorified, sanctified holy waters of a Florida river. As I was leaving, an older man (by which I mean probably older than me) who was there with his wife shot me a peace sign. 
I loved it. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Out And About

This morning I decided that my foot felt good enough to take it on a test run. Or, actually, test walk. I took it slow and easy, probably only covered about two miles, but it felt so good to get out and move. I walked down the little side road you see above which is named the Greater Elizabeth Road because that's the Greater Elizabeth Missionary Baptist Church at the end of it. It's a pretty little lane and actually, No Man Lord's family compound (at least I think it's sort of like a family compound) backs up on it. 
Speaking of No Man Lord, I see that his trailer/camper has been moved from the center of his lot to the west edge of it where there are a few trees. I am sure that the temperature in that thing must get into the cement-melting levels when the sun is beating down on it. It's nothing but an oversized tin can and I don't think he even has electricity so he doesn't even have a fan. 
Yes. Right here in America, richest country in the world. 
Do we even claim that now? If we do, we're lying. 

So I made it home and took the trash and went to the post office and ate some lunch and hung the clothes and then I decided to go clean up the little peep coop in case I decide to put Darla and her babies in it. Of course I am counting my chickens before they hatch here but I felt compelled to do that. It almost felt like getting things ready for a home birth- sterilizing sheets and blankets, buying Chux pads and just generally nesting. Except that what I did today was mostly to scrape up chicken shit. The little coop is in the big coop and the chickens like to perch on it in the mornings and so the wire top of it was covered in poop and a lot of it has sifted down into the dirt floor below. I scraped the wire and dug up the dried poop dirt. That stuff is probably one of the best fertilizers in the world. Pure guano. 
Then I decided that what I should do with this black gold was to distribute it around the base of the fig tree which we have not fertilized in seventeen years. Every year the tree gets so much baby fruit on it but it doesn't get very big and also, the squirrels and birds eat all the figs before they ripen entirely. 
The poor tree needs some help.
So I hauled the amazingly heavy poop dirt over to the tree and then realized that the entire underneath area of the tree needed clearing out. Weeds of all sorts were growing there as well as cherry laurel saplings, some of them at least three feet tall. The reason we've let this all get out of hand is that the limbs of the fig have drooped to the ground around the edges, thus obscuring the sight of the saplings and weeds and giving us the ludicrous rationale of if-I-can't-see-it-I-don't-need-to-do-anything-about it. 
In all honesty I knew it was an overgrown mess under there so I crawled into the green cave of jungle with my pruners and pulled what I could and cut what I couldn't. 

The chickens found me, of course, and had to observe exactly what I was doing. They jumped up into the cart to see what I had in there and then they joined me under the tree to scratch and chatter among themselves. They are such social creatures. 
After I'd cleared as much as I felt I could do, I spread the guano around and then I hauled the weeds and saplings to the burn pile and by that point I was DONE! It's still not really that hot here but I just can't deal with it. 
Plus- bugs. Although blessedly, the yellow flies left me alone. 

When I was over at the burn pile, I decided to walk the twenty steps to the garden to check the green bean growth and ended up picking a good pocketful of the heirloom purple pole beans which are ripening before the rattlesnake beans which we also planted and I did pick one of those but it's not really mature. 

Aren't they pretty? I can't wait to see how they taste. I'll cook some in the next day or two but tonight I'm making pizza. 

Gibson update: He is doing well. Not a whole lot of pain. He's had three Advil in the last twenty-four hours, Lily reports, and that's all he's needed. 
Oh, to be young. Everything in and on my body aches at the moment just from the little bit of walking and yard work I did today. When, WHEN did I become this lame, limping old lady? 

Ah-lah. Who knows? Not me. And yet here we are. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Troubles, Tacos And Treasures And So Forth

 I woke up this morning totally unfit for human company. I kissed my husband who almost always gets up before me, and he asked how I was doing. 
"Suck," I said. It was all I could get out without bursting into tears. 
And I have no idea why. Just terrible anxiety trying to swallow me like a snake in the hen house trying to swallow an egg, slowly, cruelly, and with slick determination. It was one of those mornings where I laid in bed for a long time wondering why on earth I should get up. What was the point? Then again, what was the point of laying in bed? 

Jessie texted to see if I wanted to go to Lake Hall or to the Wacissa. 
"I don't know," I texted back. "You decide what you want to do and just let me know."
She finally decided just to take the boys to the library and for a bike ride around the little pond/lake nearby but asked if I would like to meet them for lunch. 
Oh god. Sure, sure. Why not? 
I decided to get my shopping done while I was in town and I went to Costco first. I was quite happily surprised to see so many people still wearing masks although they are not required now if you have been vaccinated. Of course- the problem with that seems to me to be that the very people who never wanted to wear masks in the first place are the same people who are refusing to get immunized because they don't want Bill Gates living up their ass or in their bloodstream or something and I would not put it past many of these people to just go maskless with the hope that no one challenges them on proof of vaccination. 
Call me cynical. 
But, I'd say that over ninety percent of the shoppers in Costco were wearing masks and somehow, that was heartening. Leon County, where the Costco is, has quite a high rate of vaccinated people so I feel certain that many of those wearing masks were immunized but were choosing to still protect themselves and others with that extra added bit of safety. As was I. Although in a way, I wonder if there's really a need. If I trusted the CDC when they told me that I needed a mask, shouldn't I trust them now when they say I don't? 
It's...complicated, isn't it? 
The restaurant where I was to meet Jessie and the boys was right next to Costco and she had a few things to return there so after I finished my shopping she met me and I stayed with the boys in their car while she ran in. We read a book while we waited. 

Quite appropriate as August is now truly and fully signed up for kindergarten in the fall at the same school his mama and aunts and uncle all went to. It's just a few blocks from their house. 

He is so ready. 
I think Jessie is too.

We went to the Wharf for our lunch which is a good seafood joint. It's where I've gotten a few take-out lunches on my shopping days but today we WENT INSIDE. We wore masks until we were at our table after ordering at the counter. It didn't even feel weird. It felt familiar and fine. The boys like me right now for whatever reason and they wanted me to sit between them which I gladly did. They got fried fish and also tiny corn dogs. With french fries. They were in heaven. Jess and I got grouper tacos. They were pretty darn good. And how luxurious to sit at a table in a sparsely filled restaurant and feel safe and eat a meal that someone else had shopped for, prepared, and served to us. And then! To get up and walk out leaving our baskets and bowls on the table! Crazy! 

We said good-bye and I headed off to Publix where I got to see Lily who was just getting off work. 
"Gibson broke his wrist!" she said. 
"WHAT?!"

He'd fallen off a ladder on the playground and landed on his wrist and they iced it but it continued to hurt so they called Lily who was still working. Jason was off though, so he went and got the boy and took him to the Ortho-ER where they x-rayed it and found a very small fracture. Poor Gibson! He and Owen and Jason are going to some amusement park this weekend and how sad that the little guy is going to have to have a cast. There's a water-park thing at the hotel they're staying at and Jason has already ordered a water-proof cast cover. All will be well. It's his right wrist though and that's going to slow him down some. Hopefully he will heal quickly as children do. 

After Publix I decided to stop by the  Bad Girls Get Saved By Jesus thrift store where I found something that truly delighted me and I grabbed it up immediately. 

A vintage bread dough bowl with a hand painted magnolia on it. From Mexico. They were asking way more than one would think at the Bad Girls Get Saved By Jesus thrift store but I wanted it and I bought it. Whether I will keep it or gift it away, I do not know but it needed to come home with me. I also got three more plates like the ones I got last time I was there although I had to pay a dollar apiece because they weren't on half-price sale today but that was fine. AND I bought two nice throw pillows (which were on half-price sale) which have already been washed and are hanging on the clothes line. 
So between seeing two of my children and two of my grandchildren and finding a treasure, I am feeling much less anxious and morose. 

Darla is still sitting on her eggs which at this point have grown shiny from her continual fluffing and rolling them underneath her as she has kept them at the evenly warm temperatures necessary for them to mature and hatch. It won't be long now and I'm glad of that for her. I haven't seen her off the nest in days. 
Being a mother is hard whether the babies come from eggs or wombs. You can quote me on that. 

Off to make cornbread and heat up the leftover soup. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Keeping Watch, Paying Attention

The lacecap hydrangea is starting to blossom and I think the flowers are going to be bigger and fuller this year as they are getting more light since we cut down that cherry laurel. They are so pretty but honestly, I think the regular hydrangeas are just as beautiful. The former owners of the house planted these and I suppose if I was motivated enough, I could plant some of the more common ones. 

I spent most of the day outside as it is once again relatively cool and dry and these days are about to disappear and we shall not enjoy such temperate weather again until next fall. When I checked my weather widget today I almost fell out of my chair when I saw that it is predicting highs of 99 in a week. 
I may die. 
Anyway, yes, I worked outside. I did the dreaded chore of trimming the deadly and toxic Canary Island date palms but only pierced myself once as I had the proper tool- a pair of loppers rather than my usual pruners. I probably pruned them and the cabbage palms back too much but whatever. I also trimmed some magnolia limbs which have been dipping lower and lower to the ground. The tree in my backyard must be ancient. It is so tall and I suppose that gravity is having its way with the limbs, just as it is doing with various parts of my body.

I got on my knees and began the never-ending yearly assault on the crocosmia which I know some of you grow ON PURPOSE but which here is a nightmare invasive. 

I had that whole area cleared out last summer although obviously, I did not get nearly all of the corms. It wouldn't be so bad if they ever bloomed but they don't. Well, maybe one out of a hundred. Not enough sun. And that is not even close to being the only place in the yard overtaken with them. Every year new clumps appear and spread. 

Oh well. What would I do with my vast spare time if I did not have invasive plants to obsess over and pull out? 

While I was down on my knees under the magnolia tree, the chickens came over to help, as they like to do. They are curious and interested whenever I am working out in the yard, hoping no doubt that I will turn up something interesting for them to eat. They do the same when Mr. Moon is working outside. 

Do you see Liberace keeping watch? 

This is what a good rooster does. I swear, I often wonder how he gets enough to eat because he spends so much time doing just what he's doing there while the hens scratch and root for bugs. And when he does find something delicious to eat, he makes his tidbit call for the ladies who come running to enjoy whatever it is he's found. Fancy Pants tidbits too but it seems to me that the hens scorn his attempts at impressing them. Poor little guy. He also keeps watch but somehow he seems so less effective at the job simply due to his size and also, for the fact that Liberace will not tolerate his presence in the center of the action. One could write a funny children's book about the Brave Little Rooster Who Saved the Flock, I suppose, although I've not seen Fancy Pants do anything that indicates any special bravery. He certainly doesn't attempt to take his pleasure with a hen unless Liberace's back is turned. 

I've been very emotional today in a very quiet sense. I've teared up twice, once while on the phone with a friend, once while texting with another friend. I've just felt a great need to be quiet and go about the pruning and hauling of limbs and fronds, the pulling of Virginia Creeper and crocosmia, the hanging of rugs and clothes on the line, the bringing of it all in, and putting it all where it belongs, with slow determination and awareness. 

Here are two garden pictures.

Cherry tomatoes and banana peppers. There is one almost-ripe Cherokee Purple tomato, big as a baby's head. We check on it every day, watching for signs of insects or disease, as carefully vigilant as Liberace is, watching for threats to his ladies. 

I just watched a Daddy cardinal feeding one of his fledglings at the feeder. My heart almost broke with the sweetness. 

I swear to you, I do not know what I would do if I didn't have this yard, this little piece of peace where things grow, even the things I wish would not, where we can watch the seasons change, every year a miracle, where birds both domestic and wild allow me to be part of their stories, to observe their lives, where we can grow food to eat, where we can get our hands in the dirt. 

I am so fortunate. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Light And Love And The Pleasure Of Foolishness

Window in my bathroom with the morning sun behind it. 

 I do love to buy scarves in thrift stores. Silk ones, mainly. I do not wear scarves as I do not have the accessory gene, sadly, and any time I've tried to put one on in order to look like one of those romantic, dashing types, I just feel stupid and as if I was in drag. But I do love scarves, especially the ones that are more works of textile art than fashion accessories. I use them on walls and in windows and they bring me pleasure. This morning when I saw the sun coming in through that one (and it overlays a piece of yellow silk), I just had to take its picture. There is something so magical about the way sunlight illuminates itself through filters, whether stained glass, napkins hanging on the line, prisms, the new leaves on trees, a hen's comb, or a piece of silk with flowers on it.

Here's a pretty hen whose comb and wattle are not illuminated but still lovely. This is either Alice or Annie. I have given up trying to determine which is which. I just say, "Hello, Annie-Alice!" or sometimes, "Hey there, Alice-Annie." They do not seem to mind and still sing their own sweet little songs as they go about their days. 

One of the hens is missing and has been for several days. I can't even tell you which one it is. Fourteen hens is too many for me to keep track of. I know it's not Darla or Dottie, Alice or Annie, Little Violet or Plucky. We've seen no signs of violent death or hen-napping. No scattered burst of feathers anywhere. Just an absence in the roost. It could very well be a hen who has taken herself off to brood on a hidden nest somewhere. That has certainly happened before. If so, time will tell that story. I figure that Darla has one more week on the nest before we should start seeing peeps. There is nothing more darling than the sight of a fuzzy little chick head sticking out from underneath the feathers of a mama hen. 

These two boys graced us with their presence today. I offered to have them here so that Jessie could do her shopping and things around the house that just don't get done when little people are there. I hadn't planned on doing a darn thing today so it was easy. And Boppy was here too. Suddenly it seems to me that Levon's legs are getting so long. He's losing that little baby boy form. I feel like this summer is going to be a growing season for all of the grandchildren. Owen may well be taller than me by the time school starts in August. 

The boys were good, as always. They are so easy-going. They got to watch some TV while they ate their lunches of peanut butter and banana and honey sandwiches and apples slices. And we read books. So many books. Luckily I was not forced to voice every bit of flora and fauna in them. They were happy just to listen to the stories. They hung out in the garage with Boppy for awhile and August and I started another puzzle which we barely got started. It's 3-D and has five hundred pieces. I think that is going to go back in the box. But while we frittered around with it, we talked and that was fun. He and I have an easy back-and-forth relationship. And get this- he pointed out to me that you can tell if one of the puzzle pieces is facing up or down or sideways by the little ridges in the them which are created by the 3-D effect. I never, ever would have noticed that. 

I've got another huge pot of soup on the stove, having used my super power to take leftovers and make more of them. I cooked a pot roast a few nights ago with cabbage, potatoes, and carrots from the garden and they are all now nicely diced and simmering with a few more vegetables and a little rice and roasted broccoli from last night's supper. I'm making another loaf of sourdough and something is wrong with my starter. It just isn't creating the rise that it used to so I'm going to try feeding it daily for awhile to see if I can get it back to its former powerful lifting abilities. Of course, it may not be the starter at all- the bowl of it I have on the counter that I fed is bubbling away nicely. I'll tell you one thing I learned today- chickens will eat sourdough starter faster than a cat can wink its eye. 

I hope they don't explode. 

I did ask August today why he had his head in the hole in the sand at the beach when his mama took his picture. 
"I was digging," he said. 

Which makes so much sense. 

I do want to discuss the CDC's directives on masking after vaccinations but not tonight. I need to get my ass in the kitchen. 

Oh! Wait!

Teeny tiny greenbeans.

Can you see them? 

The miniature orchids from which they spring. 

I hope all is well with you. 

Love...Ms. Moon

The Mysteries Of Life, Or, Well, A Few Of Them

That picture was from yesterday when Jessie and Vergil took the boys to the beach. I think it's deliciously delightful. That look on Levon's face is priceless. I have no idea what August was doing but if it was an imitation of an ostrich, it's a pretty good one. 

Today has been the epitome of Sundays. Not in the dark curtain of thick, inky blackness sense which can envelop us on Sundays sometimes- it's been way too pretty of a day for that to happen. But in the sense of being completely nonproductive- well, I knocked that baby out of the park.
I remembered the Sabbath Day and I kept it holy as hell. 

So to speak.

I was hanging the clothes on the line, which I consider to be a borderline religious activity, especially on a day like today, when I realized that a yellow fly had stealth-attacked me to the point where I was bleeding. It had gotten my left foot and my right leg. As many of you know, the bite of this particular insect is something I react strongly to and before I knew it, the afflicted areas were itching so intensely that I thought I might go mad. I was ready to take a knife to the bites to cut them out. 
This is not hyperbole. I was truly thinking, "So this is how people go insane."
I slathered two different types of anti-itch ointment on them and finally caved in and took a Benadryl. Within an hour, the worst of the itching had passed but my left foot is still swollen like a little fat pink ballon, ready to burst its skin. And it still itches. 
Over the last few years I thought I'd gotten a little less reactive to these bites but it would appear that if so, something has happened to reverse that progress. I can hardly bend my toes. 

So that sort of slowed me down. Benadryl will do that and a foot that is nothing more than a bursting sausage will too. 

Oh well. 

I finally finished reading an article in a New Yorker entitled "The UFO Papers: Why did we start taking unidentified aerial phenomena seriously?" It's a very long article and there are no absolute conclusions but it would appear that by golly, something's going on and has been for quite some time. The good news is that if there is intelligent life spying on us or doing whatever it is they may be doing, they obviously aren't interested in destroying us because if they were, that would have happened a long, long time ago. 
But the part that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up came in this bit:

I have been sort-of joking forever that I think that human beings are the result of a genetic experiment between apes and aliens and here we are. It's always seemed eminently possible to me and it still does. 
Of course, it could all be horseshit but it makes more sense to me than the virgin birth and millions upon millions believe that crap.

Somehow I've never felt the possibility of aliens on earth more than when I am in the Yucatan Peninsula. I have heard personal stories of sightings of crafts over the sea between the island of Cozumel and the mainland. But what really freaked me out was that once when Mr. Moon and I were visiting the local ruins on the island, we encountered a park employee who...well, I'm just going to say it- she looked like an alien or at least what aliens are often portrayed as looking like. Something like this. 

Except more human. Like a person resulting from the crossing of an alien and a human. Mr. Moon and I both noticed her at the same time and our jaws dropped. But there she was, in her green uniform with a badge on, proclaiming her an employee of Zona Arqueologica San Gervasio. 
We're still talking about that. 
And wouldn't it be perfect for a human/alien cross to hang out at some Mayan ruins? 

Well, here's a little alien that I took a picture of on my back porch. 

 I hope you don't think I've lost my mind and am now venturing into the LaLa Land of conspiracies and UFOligists. I haven't. I promise. And as the article states in another paragraph, "Virtually all astrobiologists suspect that we are not alone."

It's actually less believable that we are the only so-called intelligent life in the universe than it is to think that we aren't. 

And this is not something that I feel the need to obsess about. It's just one more interesting thing to ponder as we gaze into the heavens or, alternately, out across the ocean or deep within its depths. 

I hope you've had a good Sunday. Get good sleep and let's rock and roll tomorrow when the so-called week begins again. 
Okay? 
Okay. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Trying To Do Right By My Grandbabies

I think that our Gibson had a very good time with us. At least he sure did smile a lot. And I know we had a good time with him, too. I cracked up when he arrived holding a plastic Publix bag, not even half full and declared that he had everything he needed in it. Everything he needed was a few extra clothes and some toys that I can't remember the name of but they were colorful and rather evil-looking. He and I chatted in the kitchen for awhile and I got the fishbowl full of the cocktail mermaids and animals I'd bought for him online because he used to love to play with them so. 
"Do you remember these?" I asked him. I used to spread a towel on the kitchen floor and put a bowl of water on it for a swimming pool and he would play with those little critters happily.

He remembered and for fun, he sorted them all into colors. 

While he was doing that, we talked about different things and I am rather amazed at how smart he is. His vocabulary is vast, his thoughts are deep, he has a very fine ability to grasp concepts. 
He's just a fine boy, that one. 

I made a good dinner of spaghetti and meatballs, a salad with tiny mandarin oranges and sunflower seeds, and sourdough bread right out of the oven. We ate while watching "Shaun the Sheep" and even the salad disappeared entirely from his bowl. 
"You put oranges in the salad!" he said. "Why?"

"Because they are delicious," I told him. He agreed. 

He took his shower and then I made him and his grandfather purple cows. Sherbet, ginger ale, and grape juice. They proclaimed them delicious. 
"This is my first time having a purple cow without my siblings!" he said. 

I think he sort of liked that. 
Then he got cuddled up in the bed in the guest room with lots of covers and pillows and I read him the three books he'd picked out. "Corduroy, Lost and Found," "Professor Wormbog in Search for the Zipperum-a-zoo," and...."The Little Red Hen Makes a Pizza." 

And guess what? I enjoyed reading them ALL! 

As soon as I was finished with the last book he said, "Now I'm going to sleep," and he rolled over and that was that. I swear- he was asleep in less than a minute.

Last night we had discussed what he wanted for breakfast. This was what he wanted:

Pancakes.

Eggs.

Grits.

Toast.

Bacon.

I do not mind spoiling the grandchildren but that menu was a bit much, I think. So I "only" made eggs and pancakes and bacon. He didn't complain. 

We ate on the porch and watched the birds. It was nice. 

He and Boppy played some Wii and then he and I played Battle. 

He does not cheat. 

I cannot say that about all of my grandchildren but Gibson is an honest boy. 

Another thing he and I did was to sit on the porch swing and talk. It's been another perfect day, cool and cloudless, the sky as blue as a blue jay's tail feathers. 

"What should we talk about?" he asked me. I thought a minute. 
"Would you like to hear a story about me when I was a child?"

He said he would and I told him about living in Roseland and Chester, and you can read about Chester HERE if you want. I told him about the day my friends and I rode our bicycles to the end of the road and found the rusty iron gates in the stucco wall that we opened up and walked through to find what seemed to us to be something as amazing as the ancient ruins of Egypt. And you can read about that, too, if you go HERE. 

A lot of you already know these stories well. Perhaps all too well, but I told them to Gibson today for the first time and I showed him pictures of the lion swimming pool we children found that day and he kept saying, "I want to go there!" 

I'm not sure why but there is a great compulsion within me to tell my grandchildren these stories. I suppose it has something to do with wanting them to have the most precious pieces of me even when I am gone. Perhaps it is the sure knowing that although I would love to live many more good years, I know at this age that nothing is guaranteed and some of my memories are so very beautiful to me, as clear and real as cut diamonds, I grieve at the thought of them being lost forever. 
I am sure we all do this. Or will. 
Whatever compels me to tell these stories, it is a genuine need. And dear Gibson just happened to be on the receiving end of that need today. 
Bless him. 

It wasn't so long after that that he started missing his mama and his brother and sister and so he packed his bag and I got the leftover spaghetti and meatballs out of the refrigerator for him to take home. 

"I made them for you," I said. 

I think he liked that too. 

I drove him home and Owen hugged him and Maggie said she was glad to see him and his mother was too. 
"It's your turn next, Owen!" I said. 
"I know," he said. "I'm excited."

I wasn't convinced but then again, he is practicing his teenaged coolness. 

The relationships that grandparents have with their grandchildren is so completely different from the ones we have with our children that it's hard to believe, much less explain. But I know it's important. My memories of Roseland are so entwined with memories of my grandparents who lived there, who took us in when we needed help, who did their duty by us when my mother needed them so desperately. Who provided a place and a situation in which I could experience magic and wonder in the jungly Florida woods, on docks over the river, in the Atlantic ocean, at the end of the white sand road through the rusty iron gates. 

My grandparents were not physically affectionate. That was not how they were raised. But I knew they would do whatever it took to keep me and my brother safe whether from hurricanes or rattlesnakes, hunger or homelessness. 
And I would wish that I could offer at least a small amount of all of this for my own grandchildren, each of them so different and each of them so loved. 

And I suppose that in the end, that's the thing that matters most. 

Well, that or pancakes. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Lagniappe

Gibson has informed me that he likes cats better than dogs but what he really wants is a hedgehog. 

I love that boy. 

Friday

Mr. Moon is experimenting with all sorts of different types of propagation. Here he is trimming tomato cuttings to try and root. We do not need any more tomato plants- trust me. If the ones he has planted bear even reasonably well, the pantry will be full of canned tomatoes, tomato sauces, ketchups, and chili sauces. But he is having fun and Levon and August were having fun with him. Levon helped me and Jessie pull up my celery and the rest of the rainbow chard. 
The celery- sigh. 
It was a valiant effort. But I just didn't do it right from the way I planted it to the way I did not thin it enough and it was just getting tough and I didn't especially like the flavor so- farewell, dear celery! And the chard? Well, full of bugs and past its prime so it is now gone too. Perhaps zinnias will be planted in their places. 

We found this little guy in the celery after we had pulled it. 

Jessie was holding it in her cupped hands and Levon was holding his hands out to receive it but it jumped away and we let it go unmolested. 
"He's scared to death," I said. 

I am sure he (or she) was. 

Just a baby.

It was a Boppy day all the way around. Those boys wanted their grandfather and they got him. They did all sorts of Boppy things and even found an old model car in the garage that they started working on together. They guys had no use for me except to help Jessie make lunch but that's the way it is some days. 

I understand. 

And now I am waiting on Boppy to bring Gibson home from Lily's. He had asked for spaghetti and meatballs when I asked him what he wanted to have for supper tonight so I have made a nice tray of roasted meatballs from a mix of ground venison and sausage made from both venison and one of the little pigs we got this year. I hope the meatballs are good. Honestly, I've only made meatballs a few times in my life but these seem fit, as we say around here. 

I offered to make Gibson any dessert that he wanted but what he wanted was a purple cow. 

Nostalgia wins over all, I suppose. 
I have found over the years that children are more fond of ritual than most adults which is interesting to me. I am wondering if I will be reading The Little Red Hen Makes a Pizza tonight. I would not be surprised. 

And that's about all the news from here. It's been another cool day but clear with completely blue skies. Absolutely crazy-unusual for May in this part of the country. At least I am not worried about Darla's eggs baking underneath her. 

Oh- here's a little bit of news- I have a wren who has made a nest in the flowering begonia on my little kitchen porch. 

Yes, that begonia is getting too much sun there but I cannot move it until the wren activities have moved on.

I saw her about a week ago with something twiggy in her beak and then saw the leaves of the begonia bouncing about. She is still flying in and out. I can't see into the nest and it is fairly well hidden but it is too close to the cats for my comfort. 

Wrens are determined to nest around humans for some reason. I have had them make nests in the mouth of a taxidermied tarpon on my porch before and have even had them begin nests in a bowl in a cabinet when I have left doors open. As much as I hated to, I had to nip that little plan in the bud. 

So we shall see what happens there. 

I'll report in tomorrow on how the visit with Gibson goes. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon