My Beloved

This is one of my favorite pictures of my husband and me. I think it was probably taken around 1987. I know I bought that dress after Lily was born and I'd lost the ten thousand pounds I gained with that pregnancy. I still have it although I think it may be in May's possession now. It is a beautiful dress, tiny-wale corduroy, soft as velvet with pockets. We were in Vero Beach in that picture, about to go eat at the Ocean Grill, my favorite restaurant on earth.

My favorite dress, my favorite restaurant, my favorite fellow.

And here we are, thirty years later with one more child than we had then, with four grandchildren, this house, this life. So many memories. So much still going on in our lives and we are still so busy with children and with grandchildren, with garden and yard and chickens and projects and work and all of the tiny details that life is made of, that love is built of.
And then, there are still the dreams. The ones not yet fulfilled, some just started, but with roots in the distant past, back when we were still so young and full of the very juice of life, holding on to each other, not even having the slightest clue about what was to come.

We still don't have a crystal ball and if aging teaches us anything it is that change is constant and inevitable, that the sanest thing to do is to expect the unexpected, and that to continue to hold on to each other is the best plan of all. It's our 34th Valentine's Day together. I've made him homemade truffles

and he's going to cook me a steak on this fire.

Glen Moon and I? We would never in a million years been matched up by an online dating service. We ain't got a thing in common.

Except this life, this very life, that we have built together on nothing-in-common but hearts which recognized each other out of all the other hearts out there. 

I've always told him that there are plenty of women in this world who could have and would have loved him but that none of them would have loved him for being exactly who he is as much as I do.

And I think the reverse is true as well. 

We may be the luckiest people on earth. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Valentine's Day

Exhausted Sadness

Everything I read about Donald Trump and his presidency makes me want to scream.
Nothing has felt completely right since the election.
Or, to be truthful, even vaguely right.

And I keep asking the same question.

How the fuck did we get here?

Which is the question everyone asked after the election and no one, to my knowledge, has been able to truly answer it but it seems to me that it all boils down to ignorance and hate.

And in my mind, hate is due to ignorance so...ignorance, I guess.

Which is only going to grow worse, seeing as how this administration seems bound and determined to destroy whatever good there is in our educational system while at the same time rewarding Betsy DeVos for the many millions of dollars she's funneled into the Republican party.
A vile and evil twofer, a done deal with the devil.

But hell. I'm preaching to the choir here and I know it.
Sometimes I just have to say it all out loud.

Well. So I've said it. So what?

I think I'm tired today. Just life and perhaps the weight of 62 springs behind me.

There is still so much good in this world, in this country, and in this community. I know that.
I am glad of it and if anything holds me up, it is love and it is knowing that in no way, in no aspect, am I alone.

Neither are you.

The slogans write themselves these days.

Resist.
Persist.
Exist.

Love...Ms. Moon

No Other Explanation

Walk taken, clothes hung, chicken waterer soaking with detergent and bleach.
A bright, brilliant morning and Jack The Miracle Cat appears to be exactly as he has always been, absolutely no signs of any sort of deprivation I can see, whether of the physical or emotional type.

I swear to you, I will never understand why that cat isn't dead, much less why he seems to be so absolutely unaffected.
Do I have that many mice?
Well. Maybe I used to.
Not any more.

Maurice Is Growling At Jack As We Speak

There's August on the play set tower after he climbed it his own self. After he got up there with his mama on the ladder to ensure his safety, he pointed at me, said, "Mermer," and patted the tower so of course I climbed up there too because he wanted me to.
His grandfather and I will do almost anything he wants.
Unlike with all of the other grandchildren.
Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!

We had such a good time with that child today. Jessie picked him a carrot and I washed it off and he tried a bite of it.

Mostly it got fed to the chickens next door who don't get much in the way of fresh vegetables or greens. We also fed them some arugula plants we pulled up and the goats got some too.

We read books in the library on the love couch.

He rode the horse which he loved until he bumped his nose on the horse's neck during a particularly vigorous gallop. He loved it again later after he got over it. 

He played with his Boppy in the Glen Den with toys and he rode his little trike and we sat on the back steps and fed chickens. He can do a mean rooster imitation now. And chickens are still called "bawks."

He and his Mer danced to the Rolling Stones in the hallway. 

And he played piano, too. 

So many things we did. But the cutest, cutest picture from the whole day is this one.

Or maybe it was this one.

What the heck, August? Are you secretly studying cute baby poses online? 

So it was a great day with the little boy and then of course Jack was miraculously found unharmed which made it an even greater day. 

I swear to god, I have no idea how we could have managed not to hear that cat. I mean, our ceilings in that part of the house are really, really high but still. Both Mr. Moon and I did hear thumps which were weird sounding but we've heard weirder thumps in this old house before. 

I know it's been over two weeks that he was up there because it was over two weeks ago when Mr. Moon closed the door. He can remember doing it- he'd gone upstairs to get a foam mat we keep up there to sleep on while he was working on the property in Apalachicola and that was definitely Friday night two weeks ago. How in the world did Jack survive up there? It certainly gives me a new perspective on worrying about leaving the cats alone for two days while we go off for a weekend.

He's been in and out of the house, had a little tuna treat and I don't know where he is now. 

Not upstairs. 

I cleaned the room in which he was imprisoned but we're going to have to throw the bed away. Seriously. I already threw the bedding away. Well, that's a lie. My husband threw it away, hauling it to the dump in his truck.

And to top everything off, the onions got planted this afternoon, although the potatoes did not. Mr. Moon got one entire pile of wood chips spread and it looks fabulous. 

A busy, happy Sunday where I didn't have time to get the Sunday Blues. 

Which is the best kind of Sunday.

Although I'm sort of looking forward to tomorrow so maybe I can get some rest. 

Big love, y'all...Ms. Moon

Breaking News

I was contemplating the missing Jack situation this morning and I thought, "Jesus, what if we accidentally locked him upstairs in one of those rooms?"
We almost never go up there.
Anyway, about that time Jessie and August got here and we made pancakes and ate them and fed arugula to the goats and climbed the tower and played all sorts of games and when Jessie was about to leave I told her about my thought from earlier. About the possibility of Jack being locked upstairs.
She said, "Want me to go look?"
"Would you please?" I asked her.
And so she did and a little while later she came back down the stairs.
With Jack trailing behind her looking absolutely none the worse for wear whatsoever. 

I guess he's been living off of random rodents and lizards up there. Jessie says it stinks.
I bet.
He went to the food and water and had a tiny taste of both and then trotted outside after we'd all hugged him.

Maurice is going to be so pissed you can't even believe it.

Cats. Good god.

Anyway, there he is.

I better go clean that room.

A Goodly Plenty Of Arugula And Other Things

I know it's hard to tell, but that's Owen in the white shirt guarding the guy with the ball. He has gone from tearful defiance at the idea of playing the game to complete enthusiasm.
THIS is Owen.
He's just got to take some time to get his mind right.
He played two quarters again, running and guarding and doing all that basketball stuff and he even made his grandfather the happiest, proudest man in the world when he came running up the bleachers during a period of time when he wasn't on the court and knelt in front of him and said, "Boppy, I need advice."
And proceeded to listen to everything his grandfather said and then ran back to the sidelines.

Hank showed up to cheer the boy on today too and that was fun. We all passed Maggie back and forth. It's not easy to keep a thirteen month, very determined little girl contained and safe and happy for an hour in the bleachers.

Here she is, feeding Hank her stuffed chicken. Would you look at that pretty little serious face? Isn't she just a doll baby? Her hair is starting to really come in and one of the things I did while trying to keep her entertained was to fish a comb out of my purse and comb those curls. She let me do it and then grabbed for the comb to try and do it herself which didn't work out quite so well and she handed it back to me and I combed some more, so softly, so gently. 

Mr. Moon and I went to the store after the game to pick up a few necessities like milk and bananas and the coffee we like is Buy One, Get One, so we stocked up on that too. Lily was working so we got to see her and she took our cart out for us so we could chat for a second and as we walked out of the store, Jason and Owen and Maggie and Gibson were coming in from the parking lot. The boys went through my groceries like little gremlins and were sorely disappointed at what they found. There was absolutely nothing of interest to either of them. 

"What did you come to the store for?" asked Gibson.

"I think they mostly just came for coffee," said Owen, holding up one of the many bags of French roast he found in my bags. 

Hopefully, their dad bought more fun stuff than we did. 

Anyway, it's been a sweet day and Mr. Moon spread some more of the wood chips about this morning. This is a rather herculean task and he takes his time and does it nicely, unlike me. I just toss it all around and figure that it'll all settle out evenly eventually. I spent a very small amount of time in the garden. I picked some mustard greens that are bolting and then pulled up the plants and fed them to the goats next door and then picked enough arugula to stuff a crib mattress and yes, I know I am prone to exaggeration but in this case, it's the truth. Half my refrigerator is taken up with arugula at the moment. 

What the hell am I going to do with a kitchen garbage bag filled with arugula? But the plants are bolting and it's time to start getting other things in the ground and I need the room. I hear you can make pesto out of arugula and I'll certainly do some of that and freeze it but Jesus Please Us. Each batch only takes two cups of the leaves and I have, oh, about fifty cups. At least.

I also planted a row of sugar snap peas and that was a joy. 

My eternally displeased familiar joined me in the garden.

Here she is between mustard greens and beets. 

I need to make some pickled beets this week and maybe I'll get around to that. I might throw some carrots in with them. The one row I planted of those has done really well. 

Perhaps tomorrow we'll get the potatoes and onions planted. 

The sun has set and I've shut the chickens up safely for the night. Mick has five hens clustered around him in the nest tonight and once again, I have no more idea of what prompts these bedtime arrangement changes than I do of what makes all of the hens suddenly decide to lay in one certain nest or, as they are doing now, on the ground under the nesting boxes in a little nest they've made in the hay. 

I am sure that they have their reasons, even if I do not understand them.

And isn't it interesting and sort of wonderful that life holds so many mysteries? 

This morning when I got up, I didn't feel fit to draw breath. I was drowning in anxiety, and yet, here I am now, as content as an old sow, and once again, I am thankful and in love with my husband and my family and my home and my garden and my cat and my chickens and looking forward with almost inappropriate delight to leftovers of that Greek-ish chicken and grains.

And a salad. 

Of arugula.

Love...Ms. Moon

More Talking About Food, Plus Some Other Stuff

We'd been trying to get ourselves to lunch all week because you know us- we do lunch. This is how we get together mostly, these days. Today it was Jessie and August and Lily and Magnolia and Gibson and Hank and Rachel and Mer. I went and picked up Lily and Maggie and then we went and got Gibson at school and drove to the restaurant. Today we went to a different buffet, this one, well, to tell you the truth- I don't even know what branch of the Tree of Asia it represents. It has egg rolls and egg drop soup and hot and sour soup and it has vegetables with coconut sauce and about four different kinds of tofu dishes and things which look like what you might find at any Chinese buffet and a curry and steamed dumplings and everything is delicious.
They also have a freezer full of things like Eskimo pies AND a cooler full of cut-up fruit, Jello snacks and some of the best cheesecake I've ever tasted so let's just call it good.
That will do.
We all got to eat whatever our hearts desired.
Hank held babies and my pictures suck but they are what they are.

Maggie was doing her best to get down, the better to run around like a little rapscallion here. The restaurant is right next to a nursery which sells fountains and gliders and swings and of course plants and the babies were in heaven, running around in front of that store, sticking their hands in the water and plucking pansy blossoms and sitting on the various seats. We wondered if the establishment would mind if we came to visit sometime and brought our own shaker of martinis. We made ourselves completely at home. I have to say that no one came to chase us away and to tell you the truth, I've spent hundreds of dollars in that place over the years, buying plants and seeds and wind chimes and fertilizer and all sorts of stuff so I didn't really feel too guilty about sitting in their excellent glider and watching my grandchildren running around creating havoc.
Not much havoc.
Just a little havoc.

I took Lily and the bebes home and here I am. I haven't done much this afternoon. I did throw out all of the altar flowers and replace them. I know y'all are probably completely over the camellias but I am cherishing every moment of them.

They knock me out.

In Jack news, there is no Jack news. My next-door neighbor called me two nights ago. She thought maybe she'd located him via an ad in the local paper. The found cat, although gray and white, was miles and miles away from here and her theory was that someone had picked Jack up and taken him away and then abandoned him and now these people who had placed the ad had him. She gave me the number and I called the next morning because hey! anything is possible, no, it was not our Jack. It was a neighbor's cat who'd run away during the storm we had.

My best theory is still that Maurice murdered him and has buried his body down by the creek. She is obviously quite happy to be the only cat of the house again and sleeps on my legs all night long and growls at me every time I have the audacity to try and move. She impaled my thumb last night with her claw while I was absentmindedly stroking her head but the wound seems to be healing nicely and I'm sure the bloodstains will come out of the sheets.

So that's life here in North Florida. Tomorrow I'm going to go watch my grandson play basketball and I'm pretty excited about that. Perhaps I shall get the peas and the potatoes and the onions in the ground.
Who knows?
Not me.

Enjoy tonight's celestial events, y'all.
Happy Friday.

Love...Ms. Moon

Peace

I have reveled in my role as domestic goddess today, not in the cleaning part of it but the cooking.
And the napping.
A domestic goddess must nap, don't you think? I've been saying I was going to have a lazy day all week and finally, I got around to it and oh, how I have enjoyed it!

Around noon, after my walk, I browned some very sexy chicken thighs and breasts and put them in the crock pot over a layer of sliced lemons and cut-up garden kale and then softened some onions and garlic in the skillet I'd browned the chicken in and added sliced cherry tomatoes to that along with olives, both green and black Greek ones as well as some capers, and then chicken broth and lemon juice and poured all of that over the chicken and kale and lemons.
Oregano. Thyme. Salt, pepper.
I think that's all.

I have two beautiful artichokes ready to cook and some lovely looking grain mix from the I-hate-it/I-love-it Trader Joe's that I'll make to go with.

And to top everything off, I got out my old old old cookbook and made a blueberry and cherry pie. I followed the instructions for the pastry exactly, sifting the flour and cutting in the shortening properly and adding the ice water, one tablespoon at a time, mixing it into the flour and shortening with a fork until it all just held together, chilled it for a little while and then rolled it out.

I think it will be good. The pleasure of a simple meal I've made and of a day where nothing of note happened at all and the clothes dried on the line and as I went about my chores, I listened to this book

which Spencer and Marilyn recommended. I have never read Gautreaux but I sure will read more. Setting, character, story, all right there in place along with lines that you want to stop and write down.
And the narrator is wonderful.

So. That is all and that is a rich and goodly plenty.

Love...Ms. Moon

It Is So Beautiful Here Today

The very air feels like cool water on the skin and the light is magic.

It's as if the day were shivering in the transcendent ecstasy of its own self.

Ah! The Splendid Impermanence Of Everything

This is from a text exchange Lily and I had yesterday and every person who has ever kept a house knows what I said to be true. 

That 99% of housework only stays done for about five minutes. 

You mop that floor and sure as hell, someone's going to drop an egg or a glass of juice or something on it. Or track something in which around here could easily be chicken shit.

It'll happen.

You get the laundry gathered and sorted and washed and dried and folded and put away and guess what? The laundry basket's already half full again.

Or completely full, depending on factors such as how many people live in your house and how large or small or old or young they are.

It's goes without saying that as soon as the toilet's scrubbed, it's going to be used again immediately.

Wash the sink out? Make it sparkle?

Someone with the grubbiest hands in the world will, without doubt, come in and wash those grubby hands and leave the grit and dirt behind, not even noticing the fact that the sink WAS clean and now is not.

Nope. Not going to notice, not going to care.

I have no idea why I bother to make the bed although when I walk through that room it gives me a second of satisfaction, seeing it made up and smooth, ready for me to get back in it as soon as it is decently acceptable for an adult to go to bed. So I guess that's a good reason.

Dust? You must be kidding. Especially around here where the dust is, as I have said so many times before, black and practically greasy. 

And cooking- well, of course we all know that you can start a soup or a stew at one o'clock in the afternoon and tend it like a needy newborn baby until dinner time at eight and in fifteen minutes, it will have mostly been consumed and you're left to wonder what you're going to make for supper tomorrow night. 

While you wash the dishes and scrub the pot.

Ah well. This is the way it is. Not one damn thing from a clean floor to a light bulb to Michelangelo's David is going to last forever. 

As St. George Harrison said, "All Things Must Pass" and the Bible might have said it too and probably Shakespeare and if I were really corny, I'd say that a couple of urologists have probably said it to a patient with a kidney stone but I'm not corny at all, as you know so I won't say that. 

And honestly, sometimes it's sad and frustrating at how quickly things go undone that we have spent so much time doing but sometimes, it's as comforting as a freshly-made-with-clean-sheets bed to know that all things will indeed pass. 

And just for the record:

Not only clean and freshly mopped but double-mopped. Ah! How I love the smell of Fabuloso and white vinegar. 

And it's just waiting for Mr. Moon to come home and track in chicken shit.

It'll happen.

Love...Ms. Moon

WHAT Is Going On?

The rain and wind have passed, leaving the sky gray and the air heavy but with its own beauty.

I have been having the most cinematic dreams lately. The one I had this morning was absolutely undefinable to me as to where it may have come from. In it, I was lost in a big city and a seemingly kind lady offered to give me a ride to where I needed to be but instead, took me (and somehow one of my brothers was now with me) to her house where her evil husband resided and it soon became apparent that the entire house was filled with monster-like family members and that my brother and I were to be made sacrifices of and tortured, and more and more people kept showing up for the ceremony.
They were toying with us, as we pretended we had no idea what was going on, meanwhile trying to get a phone call out for help, and at one point, the evil husband fell down the stairs and appeared to be dead and I said, "Oh my god! Should I call 911?" and the wife looked at me in such a way that I knew this was part of the act and the man slowly opened his eyes and laughed.
BUT! Not to worry! Because when he finally came after me, I struck out and my hand went right through his face and suddenly, it was Zombie Apocalypse!
And these zombies were easily deterred by punching them and my hand and arm went through all of them (which was a most bizarre feeling) somehow disabling them and then we were in a mall and there were zombies everywhere and I grew weary of the zombie struggle but there were just so many!
How this ended up I do not know because I finally woke up. I knew it was a dream while I was having it and even as I was dreaming I wondered why in the world I would be dreaming of zombies which trust me- are not something I spend a lot of time thinking about. The only zombie movies I've ever seen, I think, are "Shaun of the Dead" and "Zombieland."
I do not watch "The Walking Dead" although Lily is a huge fan.

Perhaps this is how I'm dealing with the present situation which is what I'm choosing to call what's going on in our country right now which is no more rational or understandable than having a dream about zombies who hold sacrificial ceremonies in which torture is involved.

In my own very real life (I think) I am surrounded by things like flowering redbuds and camellias, birdsong, gray sky, an orange cat walking across the backyard and lovely hens.

Here you see Dottie, Trixie, and Butterscotch.
I have already received one beautiful green egg from Camellia and I much prefer this world to the dream world although I have to admit that it's an interesting world and I am quite surprised to find that my brain holds anything like what it must take to put that world together as I sleep.

And The Lightening Splits The Sky

We're about to get some big ol' weather here, according to the radar and weather reports. It hasn't rained in a good while so the wet part of it will be welcome but I could live without the wind because we'll probably lose power and dammit, I'm just not in the mood.
But the chili is simmering on the gas stove and I know for sure that I can make a cornbread on top of the stove because I did it last time the power went out so we won't starve.
As if that were even a possibility.

I'm tired. I worked pretty hard today. Lily had texted me about babysitting and I thought she meant this week so I did my best to get everything done around here that really needed doing but in fact, it turns out that she meant next week so I'm ahead of things. Sort of. Not really. Truthfully, I'll never in this lifetime catch up with everything that needs doing in this house and yard.
Not my lifetime at least.

Maybe tomorrow I'll actually get around to mopping the kitchen and bathroom that I've been saying I'd mop for about, oh, a year.
Not really.
But I can't swear I've mopped them this year. To be honest.

And Mr. Moon brought home potatoes and peas and onions to plant so I need to get on that and I also need to get more leaf mulch on the garden but none of this is earthshaking.
I'm not in the earthshaking business though and I'm glad of that.
Do I need to mention what happened in our government today?
Well, I guess in Florida we should stock up on guns for the schools in case rogue alligators rush the buildings. Or Bigfoot. It could totally happen.

Oh, Jesus.

Thunder's cracking now and the trees are sounding like a dancing lady's crinolines and the rain will be here soon. The frogs are calling out to it, the thunder is rolling now, and yes- here- the rain is beginning to fall, big fat drops, I can tell from the sound.

Another day on this earth. This still remarkable earth.

Love...Ms. Moon

Retirement Plans

Had a walk and am washing clothes and now I'm going to get out and do some much needed yard trimming. Later I'll be making venison chili and doing some ironing.

Owen asked me last week what I'm going to do when I retire.
The question was beyond my ability to answer.

If I had my choice about how I want to die, I'd keel over in my garden, dead before I hit the ground.

Sadly, we don't get a choice in that matter unless we take things into our own hands and I'm not ready to contemplate that. So I guess I'll just keep doing what I'm doing albeit more slowly every year, and see what happens.

Maybe when I retire I'll get a job shucking oysters.
Hahaha!

Love...Ms. Moon

Feelings. Nothing More Than Feelings

Tiny boy is getting so good at words and is getting so long in the legs. He did not fuss for his Mer for one second. Not one fuss did he utter, not even when I wouldn't take him for a bike ride or a walk. He brought me his jacket and he wanted his bike helmet and I did put the helmet on him and he said, "Me!" and pointed to the bike and then he took his jacket and tried to put it on himself and went over to the stroller and again said, "Me," and I told him that we were not doing either, I was so sorry, do you want to go read some more books?

We did go outside and he tried to catch the kitty cat but he could not and then he tried to start the mower and he couldn't do that either but that was okay because he supplied the engine sound himself. He took me to the refrigerator and patted it so I opened it up and he indicated that he wanted a string cheese. I got the little package out and opened it up and gave him a small piece but no, he wanted the entire thing so I gave it to him and then he proceeded to hand the whole piece of cheese to Greta the dog and the act seemed to positively reek of practice and ritual. I asked Jessie about it when she got home and she said that yes, that's what he always does if you give him string cheese.
We probably read at least twenty books. He loves books and he loves to sit in my lap while I read to him so you know, that's pretty much heaven. I feel quite caught up on my farm animals, pets, forest animals, animals that like the water, and slithering and crawling animals now. Also my numbers from one to ten.
Not to mention my body parts.
So that was about the best time I could have had this afternoon and when his mama got home he was happy but he didn't go through any of that nonsense about crying, pretending he'd been bereft the entire time she'd been gone. He just settled into some nursies and I think he feels as comfortable with me as he does an old shoe.
He kissed me good-bye and I came home and did some chores around here. The hens have fresh hay, the mud room and Mr. Moon's bathroom are freshly swept and mopped and smell of white vinegar and Fabuloso instead of the cat piss they did smell of. Bread is rising. Salad greens are picked.

For those of you who asked- NO! I have not seen Jack in over a week and I just talked to my next-door neighbor and she hasn't seen hide nor hair of him either. She's asked the neighbors on the other side of her if they've seen him and they have not. It's very upsetting because this is not typical Jack behavior and I've had to chase that gray and white feral off the back porch about three times today already. My neighbor and I agreed that if we could get rid of the feral, Jack might come back. Neither one of us thinks he's dead because he was so healthy and we haven't smelled anything nor have we seen vultures.
This is the way it is in the country.

And this is the way it's been in Lloyd today. My row of new greens is coming up and I have the water on them and the shallots I planted are sprouting as well. The mulberry is putting out leaves and blossoms.

And I took this picture of Miss Trixie, our oldest hen and Mick's favorite sister-wife this afternoon because the light made the blue in her feathers come out. 

That's Miss Butterscotch behind her. That old lady gave me another perfect egg today. 

My soul has been in unrest today but I have done everything in my power to soothe it with exercise, with talk, with being outside, with loving on my grandson, with pounding bread dough, with being useful and minimally productive. 

Not to mention with medications. 

Well, some days are like this. And if you remove my emotions from the equation, it's been a practically perfect day. 

I'll go with that. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Cats Both Big And Small, Wild And Not-So

Cat in sunshine.

Fiercely gorgeous day and the railroad guys are back and the chickens are running around the yard and Camellia is back on the porch and just a few minutes ago the gray and white feral was too but he took off when he saw me.

I took a walk this morning and I'm glad, as always, that I did.

It was quiet and I was able to simply walk, one step in front of the other, always a useful reminder of how life can only be lived.

As I was just about home, I stopped to chat with the guy who digs worms for fishing. We talked about fish and Lloyd Creek and when I told him I used to take my kids there to swim thirty-something years ago, he said, "Whoa! How old are you?"
He insisted that I don't look over thirty-five which of course is pure and unadulterated bullshit but it was sweet and then we discussed walking which we both enjoy doing and when he left he picked up his bucket of worms and said, "Now I'm gonna go drown these babies!" and off he went to the creek and I came home, passing Mr. Lawrence's abandoned store where this was taped on the side of the building.

Circuses are going the way of the dinosaur and most people would agree that's a good thing but there is something about the history and tradition of circuses which I will be very sad to see go. Animals are a part of that but it's also the aerialists, the clowns, the magicians. The family ties.

I don't know. I guess that in our world today there is no real need for the circus but oh, I remember when a circus coming to town was about the most exciting thing there could possibly be.

And there is a part of me which would want Owen and Gibson to be able to experience some of that death-defying action under a big top with the smell of animal manure and the spangles and the top hats and the magic.

I don't know.

They do use elephants and big cats so I suppose we should boycott them. Yes. Of course we should.

Do the right thing.

I need to get to town. I'm babysitting August for a little while this afternoon and I am eager to see him.

Be well, y'all.

Love...Ms. Moon

Gone And Back Again

Has it really been two days since I posted?
How can that even be?
Not sure, but it would appear that it has.
But we are home now and it was a nice little weekend. We even went over to St. George Island, which is one island over from Dog Island but there's a bridge. And things like stores and restaurants, etc. That picture was taken as we crossed over the bay to the island.
We went over there so that Mr. Moon could show me a house that a friend of his has built on the bay on the island because he really liked some of the features and right now we are considering everything and in the market for ideas. It was a nice house, especially the back porch which was deep and wide and welcoming with a beautiful view of the dock and the water.
I do so want a dock. I half grew up on a dock and my most magical childhood moments were spent either on that dock or in a tree and I would love to be able to give some of that magic to my grandchildren.
The house was very nice. I was especially intrigued by the all-Viking kitchen. Get back, y'all! A Viking range, microwave, refrigerator, dishwasher, and wine cooler. I had a Viking range once and it was a piece of shit and that's a whole entire story but maybe the've gotten it together over at Viking. Their stuff sure does look pretty.
Anyway, we drove around the island some and walked down to the beach. Sure was a pretty day.

That's the Gulf side. Nice white beaches, eh?

We went back to Apalach and had the best gumbo I believe I ever had. Too bad I forgot to take a picture before I ate most of it.

There were naps and I met up with my friend Marilyn and we barely got to talk before she had to go to Spencer's matinee. That evening we got dressed up and went and had a slice of pizza and then went to the show. It was amazing, as Spencer's shows always are.

Spencer Bohren

Guitar God

Extraordinaire!

Some folks I knew from St. Augustine had come over for the show too. It's a very small world, y'all. Marilyn had her last baby in the bed of a midwife friend (Marilyn is a midwife too, although she no longer practices) who lived on the beach of St. Augustine. This midwife is a well-known and beloved figure in St. Augustine and although she lives in Virginia now, she coordinated a trip to include Spencer's gig in Apalachicola so that she could see her friends. 

It was so good to see this woman. She's probably not really a woman. I think she may actually be a goddess. She's about the most beautiful creature I've ever seen on this earth and age doesn't seem to have touched her except to paint her hair with silver. 

But it was an evening where there was complete silence while Spencer played, complete attention to his voice, his fingers, the music he made, the stories he told. I felt to honored to be there, to be reminded that the holy and the celestial can be mixed and braided with the earthly and the human and the result is far more than all of the parts on their own. 

We had breakfast this morning at the Mexican restaurant with Spencer and Marilyn and again, although we got to talk, it just wasn't nearly long enough. We hugged good-bye in the parking lot and we drove on home where I found seven eggs and two hens on the nest. 

One of the hens was Violet and later I found two more little eggs where she'd been sitting. 

The other hen was Miss Trixie, the oldest hen of all, and I'm not sure, but she may be fantasizing that she's setting eggs. I think she did raise a brood once. Anyway, she was in the nest all day long and there were no eggs beneath her. 

And so it was just the nicest little trip and we did have the House of Tartts to ourselves the entire time which was just a treat but it's also funny that we would leave our very old house in Lloyd to go stay in another very old house in Apalachicola but that's the way we do it. 

We have neighbors from across the street here watching the Super Bowl and I've announced that I won't be watching any of it and no one seems to care and I did not think they would. Owen called me today, all on his own, to invite us to come to their house to watch the game which I thought was sweet. I explained to him that we had people coming over so we couldn't come and I thanked him profusely. 

I also talked to him about his basketball game yesterday which HE PLAYED TWO QUARTERS IN!

I tell you, the boy just needs time to get used to new things and then he's good. 

I told him I was proud of him and he sounded pretty proud of himself. 

So that's where I've been and here I am and all is well. 

I hope you had a good weekend too.

Love...Ms. Moon

I do believe we have the whole House of Tartts to ourselves tonight. 

This does not suck. 

Baby Bites Bird

When we went to Jacksonville and visited the museum, it was a free entrance day and so I made up for it in the gift shop, buying Owen his possum and Maggie a stuffed owl and Gibson a stuffed manatee and August a stuffed pelican.
This is what he did when he met it today.

Do not ask me why.

I spent the entire day in town, most of it with Jessie and August which was very nice. It's lovely to be able to give one-on-one attention to each grandchild. When we had finished our errands we came back to Jessie's house and she looked at my car, parked on the street and said, "Mama, you have a flat tire!"
Well, dang.
So of course I called my husband because that is the way we do it. I deal with dinner, he deals with tires. He was at lunch though, and so I hung out with Jessie and August. We had fun. August is growing up too fast. He knows a lot of his animals and the sounds they make and he knows that sticks are meant to play with and he loves to tease Greta Dog by holding her ball and pretending he's going to throw it and helping his mother with the earthworm bin, and he loves avocado and tuna and shoes and books. Especially books.

He also very much enjoys waving at people both hello and good-bye. He can say "thank-you" and does so, appropriately. He'd rather climb than almost anything. And when Mr. Moon got to the house, he started waving his arms up and down and saying, "Boppa! Boppa!" And smiled so big.

You can only imagine how happy that made his grandfather. 

Turns out I had a nail in my tire. 

Sigh.

But there was enough air in it to drive to the nearby tire store where they know Mr. Moon quite well and they fixed it all up and then I went to Costco and the library and Publix where I got to see Lily and give her the pajamas that I bought for her kids today at TJ Maxx. Owen puts his PJ's on as soon as he gets home. As Lily says, "He is serious about his leisurewear."

One time when I took him home, he changed into his pajamas in the living room and told me that he likes to keep them there because that way he doesn't have to go all the way to his room to change. 

So now I'm home and my entire house smells of cat piss and WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON? Is Maurice telling Jack that he better not come back? Is that stray cat coming in the house and pissing all over? Is Jack sneaking back in and telling Maurice to fuck off? 

I don't know but I don't like this. 

Yesterday I washed all the rugs in my bathroom and mopped the floor with Fabuloso and white vinegar and it smelled so lovely and then I forgot to close that door when I left for town. 

Fuck me and fuck it. 

We're leaving tomorrow for a weekend in Apalachicola and I'll deal with it all when I get home on Sunday. 

When I'm stronger. (She said in her best Scarlett O'Hara voice, the back of her hand to her forehead.)

Our friend, Spencer Bohren is going to be playing at the Dixie Theater in Apalach on Saturday night and his wife, my dear friend Marilyn, is going to be with him so we're using that as a good excuse to take a weekend off together. I've been informed that there's a few hours of work to be done on the property that Mr. Moon did not get finished last weekend. He told me this and said that it could all probably be done in about two hours before we check in to the place we're staying.
"That's fine," I said. "And what will I be doing while you're hauling palm fronds?"

"I thought you might help me," he said. 

"Mmmm...," I said. And was silent for a little while. 

"I suppose I could," I finally said with a weary sigh. 

A woman's work is never done. 

I'll wear my overalls. 

A gray and white cat just walked in through the cat door onto the porch. 

"Jack's back!" I announced to my husband. 

And then the cat left again. I swear to god. I think it's that feral. 

You do know that all of this silly cat worry is a distraction to stop me from worrying about WW III, right? 

Fuck me. Fuck it. 

Bite a bird. Kiss a baby. Heat up the soup. Go make up the bed. 

Love the ones you're with. Intensely and with all the passion in your soul. Beyond than that, I have no good advice. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Rise Up So Early In The Morn

Foggy day and that's a shot through the screen but it's what I have.

I wish with all of my heart that I didn't wake up every morning feeling as if the world was coming to an end.

Oh wait. It might be.

Fuck.

Well, I wish I weren't so depressed about it every morning that I feel as if I could die. I'd say that this is an appropriate response but it was true before Trump soiled the Oval Office too.

Moving on.
Here's a picture of Owen fixing dinner for his brother and sister for himself last night.

Under supervision he made quesadillas and smoothies. 

Yay, Owen!

Still no sign of Jack. I called my next door neighbor and left a message and she never called me back which is odd. 

Maurice does not miss him. 

"Where did you hide the body?" Mr. Moon asked her last night. 

She took the Fifth and slinked past him to the food bowl. 

And in chicken news, the eggs I thought were coming from Miss Dottie, one of my new hens, are actually being laid by Butterscotch who is ancient and hasn't laid in months. Dottie is laying small ivory-colored eggs like her sister, Miss Darla. 

Still no idea where Violet is laying but there must be a huge pile of them by now.

They're still working on the railroad.

All the live long day.

Let There Be Love

So. Did you ever take a knife to tortilla chips and smash them?
Because obviously, it's one of the most hysterical and fun things to do in the entire world.
Oh, that boy.
Besides smashing tortilla chips he also delicately dipped them into salsa and handed them around the table. He's a helpful guy.

We started out today with Hank and his friend Rachel, and Lily and Gibson and Maggie and Jessie and August and me but just about the time we sat down, Lily got a call from Owen's school. He said he was feeling confused and so Lily took off with Maggie and left Gibson in our charge to go and get the boy. He turned out to be fine and whether his new medication made him feel weird or whether he's processing everything that happened yesterday or whether he truly felt he was confused or whether he was trying out the theory that if he says he feels confused (which is what the doctor told him might be one of the signs he's about to have a seizure) and reports it, someone will come and get him from school- it doesn't matter.
He did what he was supposed to do and he got picked up from school.
When Lily called to tell me that he was okay, I could tell from her voice that she was upset and of course she was. The worry is unavoidable. And this is all a process which is also unavoidable. All of the parts of it, from the physical to the psychological.

But anyway, the rest of us stayed and ordered our lunches and we had a good time talking and chatting as we do and the restaurant knows us so well that our server brought us EACH a bowl of salsa and I am not ashamed to admit that more bowls were needed before the end of the meal.
We are a salsa-loving group.

After lunch, we said our usual good-byes in the parking lot with kisses and hugs and Hank Held A Baby.

That's Rachel and we all liked her very, very much. 

On the way back to his house, I asked Gibson what he'd done with cousin Lenore while we were gone. 

"Played," he said. 

"I missed you very much when we were in Jacksonville," I told him.

"I didn't know that!" he said. And then he said, "I missed you too!"

It's so odd how my heart just bursts with love for each of these grandchildren. I don't know why, but on that drive I could hardly stand how much I was loving Gibson. In some ways, he is absolutely the definition of the middle child with Owen as a big brother and now Maggie as the baby sister. And yet, he is so very, very Gibson in all ways. He is his own man, his own self, with his own energy and outlook on life and unique sense of humor and intelligence and way of walking on this earth. 

And I cherish that child. 

I hung out for awhile when I got to Lily's and Owen was glad to see me. He called out to me several times when I was in another room, just to see if I was still there. 

"Owen," I said. "Have I ever left without telling you good-bye?"

"No," he admitted. "But it could happen some day."

"You're right," I said. "It is a possibility."

And my heart cracked in two. 

I played with Maggie in her room. She was in a very merry mood.

She was playing with her little dollhouse, putting the girl figure in all of the rooms of the house and laying her in bed. My granddaughter cracks me up so much with her talking. She absolutely has her own language and she asks questions and makes statements and except for the facts that the words are not understandable to us, she sounds exactly like anyone having a conversation. So serious, so certain that she is talking just like the rest of us. 

And she is. 

Lily and the boys and Maggie and I all sat on the floor of Maggie's room and the children crawled all over their mama and Maggie hugged her hard and Gibson announced, "Cuddle puddle!" and I joined them and said, "Hug heap!" and it sounds so corny but it was so sweet. 

I know that this has to be one of the hardest times of Lily and Jason's lives. Three young children, each with his or her own needs, some of them proving to be special, to say the least. The diapers, the food, the bills, the house, the yard, the doctor appointments, the medications, the laundry, the jobs- it's an almost insurmountable amount of work and worry. 

And yet, there is this love, this joyous and absolutely undeniable love which spills out and spills over in moments of pure, sheer happiness. 

I think that all good parents feel as if they are never quite doing enough and of course, the tasks of a parent are never done. 

Never, ever. 

But if the love is there, if the true caring is there, if the obvious moments of joy are there, then all will be well. 

There have been so many times in my life when I've felt completely inadequate to the task of being a mother, a wife. Hell, even inadequate to the task of being a normal human being. And then, days like today happen and I see that despite my vast faults and inadequacies, I've managed to let the ones I love know that they are loved and now that love has been passed down and is shown and shared anew. 

And it's okay. It's far more than okay. I've done my job. 

Love...Ms. Moon

And In Cat News

We haven't seen Jack in three days and this is worrisome. The large gray and white feral which shows up now and then has been a more constant presence lately and some cat's been pissing on my back porch which generally demonstrates unrest in the feline community.

Maurice slept on my feet all night except for the time between two and three when I was having trouble sleeping and then she crept up and put her head beneath my hand and I stroked her soft fur for a long time. She even attempted to purr a time or two which does not come naturally to her at all.
My nurse cat. My therapist cat. My crazy cat who will take my hand off at the wrist if she's not in the mood but who seems to discern the times when I need comfort most and who offers it then, more of a gift because it is so rare.

I feel as if I've been beaten with a hammer all night long.

I'm so dramatic. Jesus.

Lord, it's a beautiful day and they're working on the railroad behind my yard. A noisy proposition. I should go for a walk and I don't have it in me. Whatever "it" is, which was beaten out of me with a hammer all night long.
(See above.)
I hear saws and pounding and the constant running of large machines and the voices of men. Although I cannot hear everything they say, certain words come through.
I think it is someone's birthday.
And they sound like nice men. Funny how humor and cheer can come through, even if the exact words are not clear. Every now and then one of them laughs, a deep belly laugh that rings out.

I can hear the cardinals too. They chip-chip-chip and crack the seeds with their strong black beaks and the sight of the brilliant scarlet birds against the sunstruck pink camellias is a sight to see.

The world goes to hell and everyone has problems and yet, there is this too.
A soft, pure day of light and sound and color and shade dapple and I think I will go to the library today and we are talking about lunch.

Let it be, let it be.
Maybe Jack will show up later. I hope so.

Love...Ms. Moon