My Boys

I just got home and have put away the groceries and gotten out of my town clothes and started the dishwasher. It's time to make our supper but of course I had to sit down here first to tell you I'm alive, hello! and so are the children I was put in charge of. 
So another successful day. 

Vergil texted me this morning that the violin teacher was under the weather and there would be no lesson today so I made a plan to take the fellas to the library and then to the playground there. I packed banana bread and trail mix with M&M's left over from Mr. Moon's Canadian trek, AND Cheetos. I was ready for big fun.

When I got them from school, I got two hugs and August said, "You're doing pretty good on your time," meaning I have not been late to pick them up lately. Or ever, really. 
I said, "Well, I try. I plan my entire day so that I won't be late getting here." I was flattered that he noticed my punctuality. 
And then I laid out my plan as we walked to the car and it did not seem to excite the children at all. Not even the trail mix with the M&M's. "You can pick them out and just eat those!" I said. 
"Nah," they said. 
Levon said he'd like some Cheetos, though. Also, they did not want to go to the library and playground. They wanted to go home because there was a Lego project there they were working on and that was what they wanted to do. 
And so that's what we did. 
I felt completely useless. August got his own snack from his mom's stash of dark chocolate and Levon ate some Cheetos and then it was full-on Lego time. We did watch a few animal facts for kids videos. I now know much more about Cheetahs than I did before. For one thing, if they don't catch the prey they're chasing within a short amount of time, they just let it go. Their kill rate is about 50% though so they do okay. I made them go outside for a little while but August jumped on the trampoline for about three minutes and then ran back to the house. Levon lasted perhaps ten minutes. 
Oh well. 

So that was that and some days they just don't need me very much. In fact, they would much rather I have not been there at all, I think. I kept going into the play room to check on them, ask them if they needed anything but mostly all they needed was for me to leave them alone. 

Sophie, on the other hand, did indeed want my attention. She is getting so big! She tried to eat my hair and she also put her paw in my ear. Well, at least I felt needed. 

While I was there I got a phone call from my Boy O who applied for a job at Publix a week or so ago. He wanted me to know that he got the job! Here's the picture Lily sent of him after he heard the news, I guess.

He's just a baby! As a fourteen-year old, he can only work a limited amount of hours a week but I think he's really proud. I asked him if he could work and still have time to do what he needs for school and he said he could. He's killing it at school this year, by the way.

So that's the news around here. 

I will also advise you that Hackney Diamonds is coming out tomorrow. The old boys seem to have done it good. Every review I've read has been incredibly positive and not just because the old geezers managed to squeeze a record out but because it's a STONES album and it is a great Stones album. What I like is that the band itself seems really proud of it, really excited about it. And isn't that a beautiful thing? There's been an awful lot of press and of course that makes me happy but interviewers just keep on going back to the same old questions. However, Keith and Mick are such old pros at this game and they answer whatever is asked with grace and humor, unlike the lady at the Junior Museum who could not deal with being asked four times in a row what happened to the tortoises's foot. 
Well. No comparison there, really. 

Keith said that the this album was really meant to play on vinyl. And by golly, I've been threatening to get a new turntable that works and I think now is the time. A record, a real record, with liner notes and artwork and the whole damn thing. 

Hell, you could roll a joint on the album cover. 

If you wanted. 

I better go make supper. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Vast Disappointment

This house has five fireplaces but they have all been converted to gas which is wise, I think. It was this way when we moved here. Last night Mr. Moon got so chilly in the Glen Den that he lit the eternal logs. There's actually a sort of thermostat system that can regulate the amount of heat you want from these things and they don't stay on all the time when lit. They come and they go, as their internal works dictate. 

I found out a few weeks ago that the old series "Moonlighting" was going to be rerun on Hulu. Now let me tell you- back in the eighties, that show was radical. Cybil Shepherd played the feisty, ex-model, detective agency boss and Bruce Willis, in his break-out role, played the foil, her second-in-command who took nothing seriously. 
That was a terrible recap of the show. Sorry.
Anyway, the dialogue was so snappy, the actors perfect for the parts, Cybil with her blond hair and pastel-colored polyester dresses and heels and Bruce with his smoldering, smirking good looks. 
I loved that show. Mr. Moon loved that show. That show took the country by storm. ALL the women wanted Bruce. I'm sure the men all wanted Cybil. And of course, there was probably some cross-over in all of that. 
So last night, Mr. Moon and I sat down for our supper and excitedly tuned the show in and within the first fifteen minutes we were groaning. It was horrible! The sexism was unbelievable. What passed for naughty all-in-fun bits then would never see the light of day now. 
For good reason.
We watched as Bruce and Cybil were about to enter an apartment where known drug dealers and tough guys were hanging out. Bruce wants Cybil to stay in the car because...of course. Cybil insists that she goes in too. Because...of course.
She says that she can be tough. She can carry off that look. And then, next thing you know, Bruce is unbuttoning her blouse a few buttons, and then, he's on his knees in front of her, RIPPING THE HEM OFF HER SKIRT! 
Because of course tough chicks wear sexy clothes that don't make them look like detective agency bosses who used to be models and the hems on women's skirts just rip right off.

Glen and I looked at each other and I said, "This is terrible!" 

He said, "It is!" And we just started laughing and turned it off. 

I guess despite the way everything feels these days, some things have definitely changed and what we used to consider to be smart and sexy and funny is now just ridiculous. 

I feel sad. I really wanted to re-love that show.

It's also so very sad to think of Bruce Willis now, suffering so horribly from a neurological disease, unable to even communicate when he and Cybil used to both memorize pages and pages of fast dialogue and deliver it convincingly in front of a camera, week after week, after week. 

Well. 

Today was a day to do laundry. I washed the hunting garments and hung them on the line because deer can smell things. That's how I think of it. They smell things. And human smells make them wary and apt to run. I also washed all the bedding because Mr. Moon got a bad case of the hives while he was working out today and even though I felt sure that it had nothing to do with our sheets, I figured I might as well. The only thing he ate this morning was cereal with a banana and I doubt that made him break out. It happened very suddenly. He sent me a picture and called me and said it itched so much that he couldn't work out and I told him to go to an Urgent Care which he grudgingly did but while he was waiting to see someone, the rash disappeared faster than it had come on so he left. Who knows what that was all about?  
He's not typically a reactive person. 

Anyway, we have clean sheets, pillowcases, blankets, and quilt. 

I worked a tiny bit outside weeding. I've chopped the vegetables I need to chop to make egg rolls tonight. I made two loaves of banana bread because I had some big 'ol past-their-due-dates bananas. Why do we feel that we're being thrifty if we take some practically rotten fruit and mix it up with five dollars worth of other ingredients and bake it? 
Well, yes. Banana bread is good. There is that. Especially with a cinnamon-sugar topping. 

I'll take a loaf over to Jessie's tomorrow when I go to pick up the boys at school. That can be their treat although they'll let me know that anything chocolate would have been better. 

Since Candy cleaned off the little coffee table in the library, I've been thinking it needs a nice arrangement on it. So today I did this. 

That is exactly what I was wanting to do. 

Can you see Maurice in her pillow nest? That's her place. 

That arrangement reminds me of the way my granny's friends used to use the tropical flowers and plants they found in Roseland as decoration. 
It's been a bonus year for the pinecone lilies. 

I better get in that kitchen and make some egg rolls. I'll wok the vegetables and tofu, wrap it all up in the wrappers I buy at Publix, and bake them in the air fryer. 
One of our favorite meals. 

Love...Ms. Moon

He's BACK! Also, Lots Of Pictures

Well, the man made it home last night before I even went to sleep. I heard his footsteps and next thing I knew, there was a big old handsome guy in my bedroom. He was back! 
Jack was surprised. And delighted, I believe. He asked for a little attention while I was getting mine. All is right with the world. Daddy's home. He was pretty wired and mighty tired after all those hours on the road but he took a shower and settled in and fell asleep pretty fast. It felt right but it also felt a bit weird- I had become used to not worrying if I was keeping him awake. I think we are both hyper-aware of that. If we have a family credo it may be, "Sleep is Sacred." 
He slept until nine this morning and thus, I did too, because I was afraid to get up, fearing that I would wake him. Sleep is sacred and especially after a trip like that. 

He had some business to attend to this morning- getting the rental car back and picking up some deer sausage that had been processed up in Coon Bottom, which is yes, a town, near Havana, not in Cuba, but Florida. He may have had some other things to do too, but he made it home around two so it wasn't that much. Then the unloading and unpacking began. 

While he was gone, I took a walk. Someone must have given Harvey a shitload of chairs. He has seating all over his yard. Some of it arranged, some of it rather random. Once again, he has reorganized and redecorated. I did not see him but I admired his work. 

The wildflowers are blooming with their requisite wild abandon, tossing their pretty little heads in the breeze as if they were chatting to one another. It is mostly the yellow, golden, and purple blossoms showing off right now. 

Here's a field that I found to be quite fine. 

Still that same sky today. Makes you remember to do what Ross advised and look up. I did indeed. 

I took a picture of some non-wildflowers in the side yard of the Lloyd Woman's Club. 

Confederate Rose. Yet another member of the hibiscus flower. We have a bush in our front yard but I think that Mr. Moon's constant and determined trimming of it may have sent it into shock, or at least depression. It really doesn't get enough sun and only has a few blooms on it so far this year. 

I walked up as far as the Dollar General before I cut over to Main Street. They have a very nice looking patch of Muhly grass in the landscaping in the back of the store. "Muhly" is pronounced as "Mule-y". 

I do love Muhly grass. It is as soft as feathers and the prettiest shade of blush. 

The holding pond behind the GDDG has some very sturdy and healthy looking cattails growing. 

I do not hate those cattails. I have to say that despite the fact that their parking lot is ugly as homemade sin, the backside of the place is as nice as I guess they could have made it. 

Here's the old Dr.'s house that I took a side-view picture of the other day. 

I think it could be such a lovely home for someone. It's going to take a lot of work and a not insignificant amount of money but I just really do hope someone takes it on. 

I took a picture of my own yard when I walked back through my gate after my walk. 

The firespike and blue-sky vines are blooming. It's a nice tangle right now. I want to get rid of the spirea I planted out front. See that plant that looks like a skeleton? Yeah, that's one of them. I planted two, one on each side of the gate. They don't get nearly enough sun and they're just sitting there, taking up space. I've got a rather large one that grows and blooms fairly well in the side yard facing the garden. 

So that's the story. All is well here in Lloyd although Maurice is doing her little hissy-fit thing where she ignores Glen for awhile before she forgives him for leaving. I've got a gumbo simmering and a loaf of sourdough ready to go in the oven when it heats up. 

Life is back to normal and that is not so bad at all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Visiting Sacred Trees And Waiting For My Husband

These are cypress trees in a bit of wetland that is not so wet right now. I took this picture at the Tallahassee Museum of History and Natural Science which we call the Junior because forever and ever ago it was the Junior Museum and thus it will ever be so for some of us. 
I have written about the Junior so many times because I have been there so many times. I took my children when they were young and now I go with my grandchildren. It is a beautiful place with many, many trees and native plants and animal habitats that the humans walk over on boardwalks. As many times as I've been I always see something new there. 

I went today with Jessie and August and Levon. It was a teacher planning day so the kids were out of school and there were lots of people there. I woke up in a bit of a mood and when Jessie asked if I'd like to go I at first said, "No, probably not," but then I got through my regular morning existential angst for the most part and changed my mind and met them there. It's sort of a big thing for me because it's WAY west of Tallahassee and I'm way east and you have to drive through town and through FSU and it's all changed so much since the last time I made that trek. But I made it and was glad I did because the light was so perfect and the air was crisp. 

Today it was the cypress trees that had me by the heart. Jessie said, "They look so ancient." 
And they do. Cypress trees can grow for five hundred or even over a thousand years. I have heard that there's one somewhere in the forest at Wakulla Springs that is over 2,000 years old but they do not give out the location of it because some asshole would surely cut it down. Or burn it down. There's an excellent article HERE  about a woman who accidentally burned down a Florida cypress tree that was estimated to be over three thousand years old and the fifth oldest tree in the world. 
She was smoking meth in the hollowed out trunk of it. 
Can you imagine? 

When I got to the park they were having an animal encounter and in this case, the animal was a smallish gopher tortoise enclosed in a wire fence where two of the employees or volunteers, I don't know which, were giving a little talk on the tortoise and answering questions from the children who were all lined up to see and listen. The tortoise is at the museum because one of its front feet got cut off somehow and it can't survive on its own in the wild because these tortoises dig great tunnels and burrows to live in and they need both of their front limbs to do that. So when it came time to ask questions, every kid there wanted to know what happened to the poor creature's little foot. The older woman patiently answered that twice, saying they did not know, they weren't there when the tortoise was injured, but that was why he was there. Any other questions? 
Guess what the third questions was. 
Yep. How did he get his foot hurt? 
The woman very carefully said, "I have answered that twice and I will tell you once more. We do not know. We were not there when it happened. I do not need to answer this question again."
Any guesses as to what the fourth kid asked? 

I told Jessie later that I thought it was possible that woman was suffering from burn-out. 

Here are the boys at the wolf habitat. 

Jessie has pictures of them from when they were barely as tall as the gray fox and now they are both as tall as the gray wolf. 
Look at the snarls in the second picture. Scary wolf-children! 

We saw dingos (the visiting animals) and a bear, deer, a cougar, bald eagles, hawks, vultures, owls, a sleeping otter, and the thing we've never seen before for today- a vulture trying to get INTO the bird habitat. That vulture was circling that fenced area and checking every inch for a way in.
They are building a new alligator habitat so we have that to look forward to. 

There's a playground and a little cafe and the boys played and we got lunch and then we went to the pioneer farm which some of you know is really my favorite part. They have brought in actual old barns and a cabin and they have pigs and a cow and geese and chickens and goats and sheep. They grow sugar cane and have a cane press and a giant syrup pot that they use to demonstrate how the settlers in Florida got their sweetening. The cabin is my favorite. I have often said that I would live there. 

There's also another building, very similar to this one which was the kitchen. The cabin was built sometime around 1880, I think, which makes it younger than my house. There is something so beautiful to me about it. 

So that was our trip to the Junior. 
Here's one more cypress tree picture. 

Fall in North Florida. I think it is rather fine. 

I wanted to show Debby what the planter and rooter actually look like that I showed in a picture yesterday. 
Here we are. 

A dear friend of mine gave me that rooter years ago. It has wire around the neck and as a loop so it can be hung, as well as a few crystals. I love it so much. 

And this pot is brass, I think, and Lis gave it to me, again, many years ago. The poor arrowhead plant growing in it has also been with me for years, despite living in approximately two cups of dirt that never gets changed or fertilized and only watered when I remember to. Obviously, the plant will grow in water, as demonstrated by the same variety growing in the rooter. I have no idea how long I've had it in there. 

Mr. Moon should be home around midnight. I think he and his buddy are trying to set a new land speed record for getting from Canada to Florida. I mean- they left Saturday afternoon! The vehicle they rented has self-steering abilities and although they did not use that on the way up, they are using it on the way home. 
All I could do was say, "Okay, honey. Please be careful." 

I am having, as I always do in this situation, a bit of a difficult time trying to switch the gears in my head from being a woman living in solitude and quiet, to being a married woman who shares her space with a partner. It is amazing how completely different the experiences are. I would imagine that it might almost be like going to a meditation retreat for a week where no one speaks, and then going back out into the world. 
Not that I've ever gone to a meditation retreat for so much as an hour, nor ever will. But I think this is as close as I will ever get. 

And as with the retreat, I can carry what I have learned and felt with me as I re-enter this different world. 
Plus- it's going to get pretty chilly tonight and it will be very nice to have someone to snuggle with. Especially such a good, dear man whom I love so much. 

Love...Ms. Moon

The Simplest Of Joys

It has just been the prettiest day. The light has been splendid, whether pouring into the house through windows or shining through magnolia leaves or just being there, lighting up the tiny part of the world I live in, showing the bluest sky and the whitest wisps of clouds to their best advantage.
It's been a wonder. 

And cool. All day long. Perfection. 

Knowing that my alone-time is coming to an end, I've cherished it all the more today. As I just wrote to Billy in a text, I wander around this house that I love so much thinking, "And here are my books, and here is my cozy bed, and this is my pretty bathroom and this is my rooster on the wall..." 
I think it has been a time of deep gratitude for me, this past week. It is easy to see and contemplate the most simple of pleasures and sweetness when there is nothing to distract me, no reason to make me rush from one thing to another. 
But soon the man will be home and my life will change back to being a bit more scheduled and a lot more full of conversation. And that is good, too. 

My late-blooming roses are still kicking ass. I picked these today. 

They smell so good. And they are so soft and delicate. They remind me of my grandmother somehow. I guess it's the delicacy of the petals. I've been thinking lately how my grandmother never really kissed me. At night, if she was there to tuck me in bed, she would sometimes give me an Eskimo kiss, which of course meant rubbing noses, or maybe an elephant kiss which was where she'd spread both her hands, touching one of the thumbs to one of the pinkies to make a trunk and and I would do the same and we would touch our trunks to each other. 
This is really quite sad, in a way, but I think I have mentioned a book of hers that I have, called The Care and Feeding of Children which is filled with stern instructions about showing too much affection to a child or passing germs by kissing. I guess...I guess...she took that to heart. I feel sorry for her children, I feel sorry for her. To think that kissing my child would cause weakness or illness in them? My god. I practically ingested my children. They are lucky I did not kiss the skin right off them. 
I try not to invade the space of my grandchildren when it comes to hugs and kisses. Lily's kids are big huggers and give and receive kisses easily. August and Levon are a bit more reticent about the whole thing. Still, I can't help sometimes kamakazing in on them and delivering swift pecks to the tops of their heads. Yesterday, when I was telling them good-bye, August pursed his little lips which I took as a sign he would allow a kiss, and I gave him the briefest, dry brush of lips and then he said, "Too juicy!" 
I laughed so hard. That was the least juicy kiss in the history of kisses. 

Where was I? Oh yes. Roses, and my grandmother's skin. 
Well. 

I did some more clearing out front this afternoon. 

I am leaving the ferns. I am under no illusions that the croscomia won't take over the whole area again or that the border grass won't sprout from the many, many pieces of root I did not remove.

I also did some work to the right of where the fence corners. That little piece of ground is thick with the mondo grass and croscomia and several other invasive type plants. It's a damn mess. 

I plan on pulling everything I can get except for the ferns, elephant ears, crepe myrtle and sago and I would not be sad to see the sago go either. 

The piano seemed to have an issue with me today. As if it did not want me to play it. Perhaps it was just that my fingers were all wonky from pulling roots out of the ground. But that's okay. I still enjoyed it. 

And now I'm going to cook the roasted cauliflower recipe that I love and cooked so frequently that Mr. Moon finally asked me to please cook that when he was off hunting or fishing. 
Gladly. More for me! 

Oh! Look what I discovered yesterday!

An itty bitty bloom on the ginger plant that I started from a piece of ginger root I bought at the Asian market. I could not be more thrilled. I believe I will keep the plant in the pot throughout the winter and then plant it outside in the dirt. 

I suppose that's enough of all that. 

I wish you could smell those roses. 

Love...Ms. Moon

In The Company Of Sweeties

I definitely did some talking today. Out loud. To people. It was a cousin day. Lily met us with her bunch at the Hilltop and Jessie, August, and Levon came and picked me up and we drove over there. It's not very far from my house. The Hilltop is a "Country Store" with a few coolers of beer and drinks and a few shelves of things like bread and grits and cornmeal and cans of soup. But most people go there for the little cafe. I guess that's what they call it. Anyway, they cook and serve food and one of these days I need to get a good picture of the cake and deviled egg cooler at least. 
The menu is shockingly extensive. Many fried items from fish to okra to green tomatoes (although not today) to french fries to onion rings to pork chops to chicken. They also have grilled chicken in sandwiches, chicken salad, chicken wings, and a chicken cheese Philly as well as chicken-fried steak. Which is not chicken. 
Moving on there are hamburgers, cheeseburgers, grilled cheese, peanut butter and jelly, barbecue, shrimp po'boys, Cuban sandwiches and Reubens. Also an entire menu of subs.
Of course you have your tuna salad, Krab salad, potato salad, regular salad, chef salad, and like I said- the chicken salad. All of the salads follow the standard Southern rule of being appropriately mixed with a goodly bounty of mayonnaise. Let's put it this way- if think you are getting less fat by ordering one of the salads than one of the fried items, you are fooling yourself. 

There's a lot more. For instance- Gibson ate a meatball sub. 

So no one ever goes hungry at the Hilltop. Every kind of person stops in to get filled and fulfilled. Old hippies, local folks in varying shades of human skin, workers from other countries, young parents, old grandparents, and anyone else you might think of. Two sheriffs came in today while we were ordering, dressed in their uniforms and carrying the seven hundred pounds of gear that sheriffs are all required to wear. They weren't there to eat but to lean against the counter where you pay and watch the FSU football game on the TV across from the cash register. They probably stayed about half an hour. There is a small TV on the counter where the kitchen folks can watch the game. People around here are as serious about FSU football as they are about fried food and mayonnaise. 

Here's a picture I snagged off Facebook of Terez who is a HUGE FSU fan. 

And I did ask his permission, which he gave because he is such a sweetie. I think from the expression on his face that FSU won. Is he not the cutest? 

Anyway, after you order your food, you wait. There is a pew right across from where you order where you can sometimes find a seat.

Levon and August both think that Gibson and Owen are the coolest dudes in the world and Owen was showing Levon the Iron Man filter he has on his phone which can make anyone look like Iron Man. Levon was ecstatic. 

There are also tables out back where you can wait and eat which is what we eventually did. Magnolia had brought a backpack filled with stuffed animals including old Beanie Babies that had belonged to her mother and Aunt Jessie when they were children. She carefully set them out and then began playing with them in some sort of imaginary situation using different voices and so forth.

"Send that picture to Boppy," she said and of course I did. He wrote back, "Oh my goodness. Little Lily. Tell her that her Boppy says she is so beautiful." And I did that too. Our girl was pleased. 

Eventually our food got made and boxed up and we paid at the counter, took it outside, and feasted. Maggie refused to come and sit with us, at first saying there wasn't room, and then because she got very perturbed with her mama for not buying her a piece of candy for after lunch. That was still an issue when they left and she slammed the door of the car to let us know that her anger had not abated in the least. 
Little Lily for sure. 

But other than that, we all had a great time and the little guys got to spend some time with the big guys they so admire and I got to hang out with two of my daughters and my grands. As always, Lily made us laugh so much. I can remember thinking at one point, "I have got to remember this," but of course I can't. I mean, I remember wanting to remember but what that was exactly is lost in the void of senility. 

Then Lily took her kids home and Jessie brought me home where I finished repairing my overalls because it is about to get chillier. 

All right, you people of the Northern climes, do not laugh at me! But for us, a low temperature of 46° is pretty dang cold. 

I've done some tidying today and sweeping, a little laundry. I finally took the sweet potatoes that I dug which had been laying on an old piece of tablecloth on the back porch to age, and wiped off the dirt and put them in old onion bags that are ventilated and stuck those in a cabinet where hopefully they won't rot. 

And I played piano. 
I tell you what- I really, really enjoy that even though I am simply so bad at it and make the same fucking mistakes I made when I was ten years old. Eight years old? Who knows? Whatever. I'm still making them. But it's okay. I love it. The notes on the pages are like my old friends that I'm visiting again, and the knowledge that no one in the world can hear me and that I am doing this simply for my own pleasure and that in a way I am making music (not a great way, but still, a way) is just so pleasurable. Even with my old, out-of-tune piano. It's voice is not unlike my own- so far from perfect, but still capable of a melody. 
I know that it is not unusual for people to take music lessons in their older age but that is not anything I am interested in. It would be something entirely different. A sort of work, maybe. I think I would feel despair if I did not improve the way I thought I should, or that I would feel guilty if I did not practice or be afraid that I was annoying and disappointing a teacher. But mostly- it would no longer be only mine. 
No need to say anything about that little speech. I feel the way I feel and I am completely at peace with it. 

Mr. Moon has texted that they are on their way back to Minot, North Dakota. He will be home late Monday or some time on Tuesday. It will be sweet to see him but I have been quite happy here alone. 

Sometimes I feel guilty about enjoying my time alone so much but I shouldn't. I think everyone who enjoys solitude should be able to experience it at times and I am one of those people. Not everyone is. And that is okay, just as it is okay and good that Glen can enjoy getting away and being with other guys and doing other things. 

Thanks for coming along with me today. And thank you for being here. As much as I love solitude, it is a comfort and a joy to know you're there. 
I mean that with all of my heart. Without you, I would be lonely. I really would. 

Love...Ms. Moon

 

Alone Time

Well, it's another Friday evening in Lloyd and I realized a few moments ago that I have not talked to a soul today. Not with my voice, anyway. 
Do I mind? 
Gosh. No. 
I've probably said a few words to Jack. I don't think I've seen Maurice all day which is a little troubling. I'm sure she's around here somewhere. 

Here's a picture that Mr. Moon sent me this morning.

Canada Geese and sunset. Not bad. 

He sent another picture. This one is his annual shot of his favorite vegetables served by the woman who does a lot of the cooking for them up at the hunting camp. 

Really? They are not his favorite vegetables. He would probably die of a vitamin deficiency before he ate a serving of peas and carrots. Meanwhile, I've had a nice little bowl of peas two nights in a row. 

The folks who attend the Holy Ghost Revival Center next door are starting to arrive. Since doors and windows are open, I'll be able to hear their music which is nothing at all like the music that the staid methodists who used to meet there played and sang. This is another thing I love about where I live. I can hear glory being sung next door if the weather's right. 

This has been another day of wondering what in hell I did all day. I swear, I get up at a reasonable hour of the morning and I piddle around doing this and doing that and next thing I know, it's four o'clock in the afternoon! It's like time becomes a slippery eel that slithers right through my fingers. 
Here's one thing I had to attend to today.

I pulled my favorite overalls out of the dryer to discover that. 
Sigh.
Whoever invented that sort of loop for overalls should be- well, punished severely. They just don't work. For long, at least. 
So I did a little replacement job although to be honest, I didn't finish it. First off, it took me at least fifteen minutes to find something on one of the hundreds of channels we get that I wanted to watch. I ended up with my default which is "Call The Midwife." 
But before I finished stitching the strap back together it was 4:30 which is time to play piano. My schedule is very important. 

I did some weeding in the garden. Things are coming along. Not only did we get that rain night before last, but we got a little bit this morning too. The garden cart rain gauge said that it was a decent amount. 

You could keep a couple of minnows alive in that for some time. 

Everything I've planted has come up. Here are a few of them. 

Carrots.

The mustard greens which have already gotten bigger than the arugula which came up days before. I tasted a little sample of one of the leaves and it is spicy and bitey and lovely. 

It was also a little gritty but that's to be expected. 

The collard plants we put in are looking terrific and happy. I had to take a picture of a leaf with rain drops bejeweling it. 

While I weeded, I was listening to the end of a book that I enjoyed very much. It's not a great work of literature but it's not crap either. 

Randy Wayne White is definitely what you'd call a Florida writer. Sort of like Carl Hiaasen. He wrote a thirty-year long series of books with a main character called Doc Ford. This one is only the third in the series and was written in 1993. There are some excellent characters in it, mostly old Florida guys who grew up in the Everglades, or close to it, before there were any sugar farms or roads or developments or air conditioning or, Disney World, or, well, laws. The people who lived in that area then hunted and sold cattle, fished, made their own 'shine, knew the Thousand Islands by heart, and never once thought that the immense (to them) areas of jungle, oak flats, palmetto scrub, Indian mounds, mangrove swamps, trails, and the intricate channels through the rivers of grass would ever be developed or paved over or drained or poisoned. Whose incomprehension concerning those things actually contributed to them. 
So yeah. I recommend it but like I said- it's not great lit and it's thirty years old so a few things have changed, but unfortunately, a lot of things haven't. 

So yes, another Friday. Clean sheets and martinis to mark it. I know that Mr. Moon fancies himself the best maker of martinis and he may be but my skills are adequate. Maurice has shown up and asked me to scratch her back down near her tail which of course I did. I also gave her some Temptations which she loves. 

These Brazilian Plume Flowers are going all crazy in the camellia bed. Or should I say, camellia jungle? Like every other part of this yard, it needs a thorough weeding and pulling of invasive plants but, oh well, tomorrow is another day. And you know what? When I'm on my death bed, this yard will still be out of control and that's the damn truth. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Life In Lloyd, Part Four Hundred And Fifty Six

Right before I get to the county line on some of my walks, there are two houses. One belongs to a guy I've talked to before and his house and yard are very tidy and neat, grass and bushes trimmed, kept-up nicely. But the house right before his, which is in a grove of the most beautiful oak trees you ever did see, is a house in a yard that I can't comprehend how they get so trashed out. That picture doesn't even begin to show the amount of debris scattered about. And it is SO scattered that I can't  fathom how they do that. Do they just walk about the yard and dump garbage and car parts and old furniture and old appliances and ice chests and buckets and building materials and...shit...in random places that seem to them to be good spots for whatever particular crap they are throwing away? Are they hoarders whose house is so full that the overflow just has to go in the yard? It is an amazement to me. The house is some sort of prefab thing (as is the tidy one next door to it) and it doesn't even appear to have a front door, just a piece of black plastic hung like a curtain where the door would be. How do people live like this? 
I know I am being Mrs. Judgy McJudgement here but it seems like it would be the most miserable of existences to be surrounded by this sort of chaos and junk. And yes, obviously poverty is an issue and I have no idea what sort of mental issues are involved. I am just bewildered. I know that for me, having at least a semblance of order creates a sense of peace. That's why I make my bed every day. When I walk through my bedroom, that made bed with its aligned pillows and unwrinkled quilt give me a sense of order. Of control,  probably. 
Candy has tidied my library and although I didn't realize it, the messiness there had become overwhelming. Every day now I see this sight through my kitchen door.

All she did was straighten the books and other things on the shelf but that sight gives me a true sense of wellness. 

She also cleared off and stacked up the books that were spilling over the table in front of the little couch in there. 

She asked me if she could shelve them and I told her that no, I wasn't ready for that. These were the books that my grandchildren loved the most but honestly- I needed someone else to help me deal with the fact that some of them may never be read out-loud again by me. And so she just stacked them neatly on a cedar chest in front of a window which reassures me that they are there, should the opportunity and desire arise in which to read them but they are ordered, they are neat. They are not a source of chaos. 
And I know that I am beyond privileged to have the ability to pay someone who is good at this sort of thing to help me. 

There's another house I see on my walk that I am pretty sure was, at one time, the home of a hoarder. Or a hoarder couple. It's a beautiful old house and no one has lived in it since I've been here but the people who owned it lived in a doublewide off to the side and back of it. Things spilled out onto the porch of the old house and it always made me so sad. The old man of the couple used to drive around in a car, itself packed with stuff and he would often stop and talk to me which I did not find especially pleasant. He died some time ago and I'm not sure if his widow is still alive or not. But recently, there has been a lot going on there. A huge trash container was set in the front yard and it became filled with...whatever was in the house, I guess. When I walked past the place today, I noticed that the yards of both the doublewide and the house have been cleared. Like- bush-hogged. It looks naked. 

That's one side of the side of the house. The lines of it still look straight and I am sure it could be restored. Perhaps this is what is going on. I have heard that the house was built by the town doctor back in the early part of the 1900's. He had a telephone and that was where everyone came to make calls or get messages because no one else had one. 

The yards needed attention and that's for sure. The doublewide, although it was probably less than three hundred feet from the road, was hidden in the jungle of it all. But whoever did it was indiscriminate in their clearing. There were several beautiful old camellias that are gone now.

Well, someone could make a nice home place there. 

It did rain last night. In fact, it began right after I wrote that it was not raining. It started out with just a pattering and although it never got very heavy, I think it rained most of the night. It was still raining when I got up and it's been overcast all day. I do feel better though and I am certain that the rain and a good sleep restored me. In fact, I slept so well that when I made my bed this morning, I discovered that my pillows which are right next to the window at the head of the bed, were wet on the edges. It could have been raining on me as far as I was aware.

I talked to Mr. Moon today. We had a good chat. He's having such a good time. Last night the fish he took up with him was cooked, some grilled, some fried, and all he had to do was prep it as two of the other men took over from there. He fed fourteen people with those fish! Sort of a loaves and fishes deal, if you ask me. Not all of the folks were part of his little hunting group. Some of them were guides and their children and I don't know who all. They've obviously developed a whole community up there. He said that the tartar sauce I made was a big hit. I'm glad of that. A few people asked him what ingredients were in it and he said, "I have no idea," which is the truth. He doesn't. Hell, I don't even know what all I put in that stuff. Well, that's sort of a lie. 

I did a little mending on the same pair of Mr. Moon's overalls that I've been working on for weeks. I just never take the time to sit down and do it. But today I did. 

Maurice, who has obviously been defending our property, came and sat on my lap which makes it hard to sew but I know that she needs some love. 
She only hurt me a little bit. 

I watched part of a movie (The Book Club: The Next Chapter) with Jane Fonda, Diane Keaton, Candace Bergen, and Mary Steenburgen in it. Among many others. Gosh but Mary Steenburgen is a beautiful woman. 
Anyway, it was not completely terrible but sort of ridiculous. I guess my internet kept going in and out because the images kept being pixelized in a rather horrifying way and it didn't even matter. I mean, it's right and good that woman in their seventies or whatever, are portrayed as still being sexual and beautiful and active and desirable and funny and smart and...oh, you know the drill. Of course the odds of finding four "regular" women of that age who are as gorgeous and slim and unwrinkled as the four women in the movie outside of Hollywood are about the same as finding a sleeping princess in the forest who only needs a kiss from a prince to restore her to life. 

Or something like that. 

Trust me- this picture has been photoshopped out the yang. 

And why does only one woman in this group have gray hair? 

Well. I guess that was my little soapbox speech for the day.

I have truly enjoyed today with its balance of physical activity and sloth. I may do the same tomorrow. 

Oh- here's something I did. 

Y'all- this is not all healthy and shit. What happened is that week before last when I decided to change up my breakfasts from cheese toast to cottage cheese and fresh fruit, I bought blueberries and black berries from the coldy room at Costco. Organic. So you know those things weren't cheap. And I ate them for a few days and then my inner four-year old put her foot down and said, "No." I mean- if there were some sort of sweetener on them like, oh, let's say- sugar, it would been okay. But I switched over to fresh pineapple and bananas which are also very much fruit but have their own sweetness. I may have become a tropical fruit only woman.
And there in the refrigerator sat those berries, sending out their guilt beams and today I just couldn't take it any more. Plus, those things weren't getting any fresher. 
So. Berry cobbler it was. 
Oh yes! Fresh berries are so healthy when you mix them with sugar and lemon juice and top them with flour, butter, sugar, and milk, and bake them in a 350 degree oven until done. I guess they're less deadly than brownies and must contain at least some fiber. 

This will never be not a struggle unless I get some sort of dread disease and just cannot eat. And honestly, like I've said, I don't really care that much about sweets so I'm sure that a lot of that cobbler will still be in the refrigerator when Mr. Moon gets home. 

Here's a screen shot of the information I am getting right now from my phone's Cornell Merlin app which is a bird ID app with the ability to identify birds from their songs and sounds. 

Lis told me about this and it is amazing. 

Wood ducks? Well, I do live on the back of a swamp. A few minutes ago the app also ID'ed a mockingbird and a blue jay. 

Is this not wonderful? I know the names of the singers of my sunset performers. 

What a world. 

Love...Ms. Moon