The Possibility Of Dreamy Realities, Even In These Times

Well, that's today's harvest. Things are slowing down dramatically but hopefully in a month or so, I'll be getting the greens and lettuces. The orange things are not infant carrots, they are tabasco peppers which are still going crazy. I pick a pocketful every time I'm out there. I don't even know how many pepper vinegars I have going in the refrigerator right now. The Seminole pumpkins are still coming along, swelling, and growing ripe. 

Here's another fence-hanger. I did indeed cut and clear some of the vines but not any with pumpkins that showed a strong indication of a good chance at reaching maturity. 

I found my real, true dream house this morning while perusing Facebook. There was a post on one of the Roseland/Sebastian groups that I follow about a beautiful old house right across the street from the Indian River and just a short distance from where that river joins up with the Sebastian River which, as we all know, is MY river. Here's a picture of it which shows the railroad bridge that crosses my river right by where Granny and Granddaddy's house was. 

Can you see my bridge there at the upper left? 

And it would suit Glen fine too as his favorite fishing spot, the Sebastian inlet, is almost directly in front of the house, just a little boat ride away. 

That's the inlet. 

And the house? Well, it's a lovely little jewel, built in 1910, sitting on over an acre of property. 

Here are two pictures of inside the house.

Lots and lots of cypress.

Oh Jesus. Well, it's already under contract and besides that, we'd have to sell everything we own and we'd still need to put in a bedroom and bath downstairs and of course- a pool out back. Oh! And a dock for Mister Sweetie. 
If you want to see the whole listing, you can find it here. 
Perhaps ten or twenty years ago this would have been a possibility but as I told Glen, that ship has sailed and we are not on it. 

Sigh. A million sighs. 

And I am not unaware of the fact that I already live in my dream house, it's just that it's not on the river, not in Roseland or Sebastian or that vague area called by both those names. I still feel so connected to that place where I really only lived for about seven years during my childhood. And I don't think I will ever quite know why that is except to say that as horrible as so much of what happened in those years, there was a magic there made of river, ocean, trees, sky, the funky smell of low tide, the strange and unusual influences of artists and writers and a crazy man with long hair and a beard who drove a tractor down the main street with children and dogs following him and sold turnip greens door to door, and old, old ladies whom we would address as Aunt, who would sit on their porches and tell stories of living there when the Indigenous people shared the river that was the only highway then, and wild cats peeked into their windows at night, along with sea creatures that not many children are apt to ever see except on videos or in aquariums, and citrus fruit and guavas and mangoes and mulberries, right there, free and ripe for the taking. All of that fed me and my hungry imagination and comforted me as little else could have done, realizing that there was so much more to this life then what I was experiencing, and I give credit to all of that and more for the fact that I am still here, sane as I am, able to love and be loved, still loving the sky and the trees and the things that grow, still able to see things in my imagination, still able to imagine things and people who lived right here, so long, long ago. 
And I would suppose that is why I am so emotionally bound to that place.

Mr. Moon is back in Gainesville where, despite all of the most up-to-date equipment and lab facilities, and dedicated doctors and staff, they still cannot truly give A. a diagnosis. I find this unbelievable and yet, it's the truth. I loved Glen up good this morning, held him as tightly as my arms could hold him. I called him my good, big, beautiful man and told him how much I love and admire him. 
As he was about to leave, buckled into the very, very brown Subaru, he said, "Why am I such a good friend?" 
"Because you were born that way," I told him. "And there's nothing you can do to change that."
I kissed him again and off he went. 

I have gone to Publix again to buy ingredients to make Lily's requested Mommy Made Cake which is a doozy. A coconut, lime birthday cake with pineapple, lime curd. 
I have already made the curd and will finish the cake up tomorrow. 
We are having an Owen/Vergil/Lily/August birthday taco bar party here on Saturday so there's a lot going on. The weather forecast calls for it to be 64 degrees tomorrow morning and 57 on Saturday morning! Definitely something to look forward to although highs will still be in the 80's and even the high 80's by the end of next week. 
This is Florida. It gives me great comfort to know there are still pockets in places where time has managed to, if not stand still, then to gently refuse to join in the madness of over-development so that it is still possible to listen to the stories being told by the wind in the trees, over the water, in the quiet, whispering voices of those who came before. 

That's all I have to say. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Turn It Down, Man!

At pottery I got Ms. Fish on the rack of shelves where we put things to be fired. I managed to get it arranged so that it only cost me four tickets. Between that and my caladium, I now have two tickets left. There are ways to get more if I need them. 
Lizzie wasn't in class because she's on her way to British Columbia to see one of her sons and his family. I am so incredibly lucky to have all my kids and grandkids living right here. But Lizzie loves to travel so it's all good. There were several other missing people in class so it felt different. No one was using a wheel. There was lots of glazing going on. There was chat. It was pleasant and we did laugh a lot. 
And what could be better than that? 
I really didn't know what I wanted to work on today but before I left home I picked five magnolia leaves and I am trying to make a dish out of the clay leaves I made, using the real ones as templates. I got the clay rolled out, cut the leaves, trimmed them up, smoothed them, drew in their veins, and tried to stick them together to make the dish I have in mind. 
To stick two pieces of wet clay together, one uses a substance called "slip" which is nothing more than clay mixed with water. It's clay glue! You have to score the pieces of clay where you want them to be attached, spread on the slip, and give them a little squeeze. Then smooth them out again. 
I'm pretty sure I'm one of the messiest slippers in the southeastern area of the US. 
I don't think "slippers" is used like that but so what? 
Now the hardest part of what I did today was to try and create the arrangement of the leaves so that they will not only be somewhat bowl-shaped after firing, but that the individual leaves will have some cup-like shapes of their own. 
That was the idea. 
What I ended up doing was to put the entire arrangement over a bowl mold and then I used crumpled newspaper to try and create the three dimensional shape of the leaves. 
Jessie tried to help me by suggesting perfectly logical ways to do this and she absolutely has the mind to see what I don't which is how the dish is going to balance out in the end. I put three little knobs on the bottom of it which I am hoping will do the job. I am not seeking perfection here. 
And thank goodness for that. 

My brain just doesn't work that way. Jessie sees the parts that have the most clay and will be heavier, thus having the potential to make the dish tippy. And other things that could very well interfere with form and balance. 
So the whole thing is an experiment and next week it will be dry enough for me to see how it worked. If it's not completely useless, I plan on making a crow to perch on the stems. Perhaps. Or somewhere on it. I have no idea how to make a crow and it may well end up being a crow-like thing. If it even looks like a bird, I'll be pretty happy. 
I was telling Glen about this and he asked if the crow would look like a crow. I thought about that for a second and I said, "Well, it will definitely be black." 
And no matter what I find next week, I did very much enjoy the process today. And of course it is all supposed to be a learning experience but I'm not sure if my ability to learn from my mistakes is very sharp at this point. 
To be truthful, I'm not sure my ability to learn from my mistakes has ever been very well developed. It's just less so now. 

Today's lunch out involved Lily and Lauren and Jessie. Yes, we all just ate together with August and Levon two days ago but so what? We went to the sports bar with surprisingly good food and I got my usual, the Asian chop salad with ahi tuna. I was determined to get something else but that salad is just so damn perfect. 
A funny thing happened. Lily and Lauren were sitting on one side of the booth, Jessie and I on the other. She was sitting in the inside seat position, I was on the outside. Our server was a guy who could not have been more than twenty, if that. And he was friendly and helpful and attentive but my GOD! He was so loud. Like...his voice was booming. Every time he came to the table we all side-eyed each other. Finally, when we were almost finished, he came to ask if we needed to-go boxes or something but he began talking before he got to the table and he was so loud that I visibly flinched. It was a major flinch. It started out as an unconscious reaction but because I am who I am, I had to add a little drama to it. 
The ladies at the table laughed and I said to the guy, "Simmer down, man!" 
He had the grace to look a tiny bit abashed and said, "I often have this effect on people." 
I wanted to say, "Honey, that is not mysterious. It is easily solved. Just lower the volume," but I did not. I think I'd played my old lady card just about enough. 
And I left him a good tip so hopefully he'll realize that I wasn't mad. Just...overwhelmed. 

So that was my day and I did not go to either Publix or Costco afterwards. I just came home. Mr. Moon caught me up on a situation he'd been trying to take care of for A. and his wife that needed taking care of. It had not gone smoothly. 
Of course. 
And he is not very happy about it. He'll figure it out though because that's who he is. 
I think he's heading back to Gainesville tomorrow afternoon as A.'s wife has an appointment she cannot miss and I think Glen will stay Friday night too. 
You know what really amazes me? The man does not moan or complain or talk about how difficult this is or how little sleep he gets in the ICU or anything like that. Not one damn thing. 
I would be martyring all over the damn place. "Oh, look at me! Look at what I'm doing and going through for the sake of my friend!" 
Nope. He just does it. 
I really do not understand how he does it but do it, he does. 

I'm going to go cook some scallops and pasta, a salad, and some more of my very, very special oatcake bread! 

And yes- I am feeling better today and I thank all of you for listening to me whine and bitch, or as you Brits might say, whing and moan. 
Same-same. 
I doubt it will be the last time. 
Y'all are precious.

 Gecko on the screen. 

Maurice in the garden. She is not dead.

Love...Ms. Moon

 

Still Sad

This Far Side comic was stuck to the side of my refrigerator for a long time, back when the kids were young. I was reminded of it when Lizzie sent me a different one this morning. 

I miss Gary Larson. I dare say most of us do. His weird and sometimes inappropriate humor so very often just hit the right spot for me.
My poor children. I doubt they ever really thought I would eat my young. Then again, I was as close to insane in those days as I ever want to get. As I never want to get again. 

And that really has nothing to do with anything but I suppose I could call it my autumnal equinox gift to you. So many of you celebrate this day and I suppose I do in my own very subtle way, meaning I recognize it, I feel it happening in my bones and in some deep part of my brain, but I don't have any rituals or ceremonies I practice. My friend Kathleen was all about the celebration of Pagan and Celtic days of observation and although I honored her doing that and believed her to be sincere in her own Kathleen, curious, humorous way, it's just not for me. I've been thinking about this lately. How it would seem that it's not just the religions that are more regularly recognized here and now that I stay away from, I don't feel comfortable practicing rituals of the ancient ones, either. I always say I did not get the religious gene and I do believe that is true and applies to all of it. 
For me. 
And sometimes this makes me feel as if I am definitely not one of the cool kids. Especially as a woman, I suppose, because so many of those ancient beliefs included so much positivity about the strength and life-giving nature born to all women. I mean, I do believe in that. I know the patriarchy has been trying to silence the voices of the ones who are actually the life-givers, who have powers that men never will, simply due to our biology. 
Why am I talking about this? 
I don't know. 

Mr. Moon is home again. He will probably be going back down to Gainesville later on the week but for now, feels that his friend's wife will be comfortable enough at Shands to be okay there on her own for a few days. 
And can we now start calling Mr. Moon's friend A. as that is the first initial of his name? 
I think we can. 

I'm glad my husband is home. I've been weird and off and very sad all day long. I was so anxious this morning that I actually took a very, very rare half a Xanax which sort of dulled me out for the rest of the day. These Xanax are so old that I'm surprised a half of one would do a darn thing but it would appear it can. 
I didn't even make it out to the garden until just a little while ago. Nothing has changed much there in the last 24 hours. I did a little yard walk-around. I had noticed some blooms in the Japanese Magnolia which usually does not bloom until February or March. I figured the few blooms I saw were merely a late random blooming, just as the wisteria always throws forth a few of its flowers during the summer. But when I actually checked out the tree, I found it had far more than one blossom. 

I've looked this phenomenon up and see it is not unusual after a long string of very hot days in late summer. So there you go. The tree itself doesn't look in danger of dying anytime soon so I'm not going to worry. 

The pinecone ginger lily cones are taking on their scarlet color. 

Will this be the year I actually try milking some to get the liquid out and try it as a shampoo? One of the other names it goes by is shampoo lily which is why I always think about doing this. For some reason, I am never motivated enough to try it. 

I finally and at last finished up my fish. No. I did not take a picture. I am not taking one more damn picture of that fish until it's out of the kiln. I'll take it in tomorrow and set it on the to-be-fired shelf. I'm not sure what I want to work on next. I have a few ideas although my favorite ones intimidate me and I feel as if there is no way I can bring the ideas into any sort of decent reality. 
Well, I can give it a try and if it doesn't work, I have other ideas. None of them, at this moment at least, involving fishes of many colors. 

I hope my sadness passes. It's such a useless emotion when there's no real reason for it. Not one I can figure out, at least. One of the ways it's affecting me is that when Glen's near me, I feel like crying. Whether this is from my fears about his health, influenced, of course by A.'s sudden and unexpected illness or something else I do not know. I just have this feeling of wanting to cling to him, to keep him close and safe and have him do the same for me. Which is ridiculous. Why am I feeling so needy? 
I do not want to cry around him. He has enough sorrow and worries and health fears relating to A. as it is. 
I tell you what- I do not feel like a big girl, a grown-ass woman. I feel like a needy child or, perhaps a rather useless, weepy old lady. 
Maybe all those things. 

It is, as they say, complicated. 

Pottery tomorrow. 

Please let me remember to bring a pillow. Sitting in one spot for two and a half hours is more than my flat-ass, old white-woman butt can handle. 
Forgive me if I offend. I'm just speaking the truth. 

Love...Ms. Moon

It's Like This

 

Here are the collard greens, just breaking ground. The mustard greens are doing the same. The lettuce will probably take more time. We'll see. I was cheered to see the tiny, green proofs of life this morning when I went out to check on things. As every gardener knows, a daily exploratory stroll of the garden is almost mandatory whether there's much growing or not. 
I woke up rather sad today, most likely because I knew that Glen would be heading to Gainesville sooner rather than later. There's a huge teaching hospital there called Shands which is definitely the best medical facility within many miles of here. For some reason, which I do not know, Glen's friend was transported there last night. Hopefully, this means there is a better chance of recovery than had been assumed. I haven't gotten a report yet from Glen so I really have no idea. His friend's wife was a bit vague as to the purpose of the transport except to say she'd been told they have better resources there. 
And that is certainly true. 
So Glen took off this morning in the brown Suburu, to drive to Gainesville. He asked me if I wanted to go but, well. No. I don't. And I'm not sure what good my presence would do anyway although perhaps I'm just rationalizing not going because I might be a comfort to my husband while he is being a comfort and a support to his friend's wife. I imagine they will tag team, taking turns to stay with him in the ICU there. 
As I told a friend of mine in a text today, Mr. Moon is an incredibly good and faithful friend and I am so very grateful that I am married to such a such a man but still, it makes me sad to see him go. And I've cheerfully kissed him goodbye so many times for fishing trips or hunting trips or trips with his sister but this feels different. 
It just feels different. 
I will be fine, of course. It will be fine. But this morning when I went to do a bleach load, I lifted an undershirt off a peg in Glen's bathroom to throw in with the rest of the whites and I held it to my face and inhaled and I put it back on the peg because...well. Just because. It smells like him and I love that smell. 
I've never done this before. 

But I had a very fine distraction in that the kids had a day off school for Yom Kippur, I think (and happy Yom Kippur if you celebrate!) and so I met August and Levon and their mama AND Lily AND Lauren at...Chow Time. Lily was on break from work and I think Lauren may have been off but Owen and Maggie and Gibson were at their Dad's. 

It was a good time. August told me that it had been five months since I'd seen them, which was a bit of hyperbole but I told them that yes, it had! Or maybe five years because they were definitely taller than the last time I saw them! 

I forgot to take any pictures and for that I am sorry but I will give you one that Jessie sent to me last night. 

Unprompted book reading! Do you know how rare this is these days? 
Sophie though, looks very sad. I think it's because she doesn't know how to read. I suggested they get her some audio books. 
Now THERE'S an untapped market! 

After lunch I did my shopping which I generally seem to do on Monday. Costco was not so busy and it was fine. I didn't buy anything weird or outrageous. The usual- peppers, avocados, dates, toilet paper.
I don't think we're going to need to buy toilet paper again until 2027. 
Fine with me. 

Then on to Publix where for some mysterious reason it took me hours and days and months and years to get the relatively few things I needed. Part of that time was taken up in birthday card buying which is one of the hardest things in the world for me. Starting on Saturday, we have five family birthdays including Billy who is family. Obviously. 
Owen's birthday is Saturday, both Lily and Vergil have birthdays on  Sunday, Billy's is Monday and August's is Tuesday. 
It's a lot. 
So I hung out in front of the cards for way, way too long because I always imagine there will be a perfect card for someone and honey, Hallmark just doesn't always have cards with the funk and humor and love and appreciation that I require in a birthday card for someone in our family. 
I know there are plenty of other card companies. 
I KNOW! 
But I don't want to go to any other stores. 
And I know I could make my own. I used to do that sometimes. I'm not sure why I don't any more. 
Sigh.
I finally checked out and am very happy to report that Becky, my cashier, and Ravi, my bagger did not ask me any ridiculous questions nor did they assume I couldn't carry more than three bananas at a time and by the way, Becky- if you are reading this- you have beautiful, gloriously thick white hair. I like your style. And Ravi- you're cool.

When I got home I had to take the trash to the trash place. It was almost getting to a dire situation so I bagged everything up and took it to the garbage facility which is no big deal at all. It's far less than a mile from my house. And all went well until I did the stupidest thing and slammed my little finger on my left hand with the hatch of my car when I had removed the bags from the hatchback and thrown them into the big crusher thing and was ready to scoot on back home. 
Now the thing that was so scary was that the hatch, the lid, whatever it is, went completely down and latched. The hatch did latch, shall we say? And I'm standing there with my little finger trapped and I'm freaking out and wondering if the tip of my finger has been separated from the rest of the finger and is now resting among the canvas grocery bags and the beach umbrella and the lawn chair I keep for emergency beach needs. Or perhaps still attached to the finger but now flat as a strip of uncooked lasagna pasta. 
And I was also wondering if I could open the damn hatch because what if my finger was jamming it or...something? 
But I managed to open it and was quite pleased to see that the finger was intact, not flattened, and I could wiggle it in all the ways one needs to wiggle a little finger. 
I was so relieved and yet, at the same time thinking, Jesus, this has been a day when really, it's been fine. 

Here's what my finger looks like now and please don't worry about the crook in it because that is permanent, yet another badge of older age I wear proudly. 

As you can see, it looks fine. A little swollen, and a tiny shadow of a bruise. 
Frankly, I'm amazed. It hardly even hurts. 

So really, it's been a fine day and I am fine and all is fine and to make it all even finer, when I was walking out of Publix, pushing my cart to the car, Owen was coming towards me, pushing a line of carts he collected in the parking lot, taking them back to the store. 
"Hey Mer!" he said cheerfully. 
"My boy!" I said. I was so glad to see him. He told me he'd get those carts put away and come see me for a minute and he did and he gave me an Owen hug and we discussed Boppy's trip to Gainesville and I told him that his grandfather is a very, very good man. He told me he knew that. 
He's gone fishing twice with Mr. Moon and the friend he's with right now at Shand's. And he knows his wife and his step-grandaughter. Glen had already told him about what was going on but he didn't know the news about Shands. He said he'd get in touch with Boppy and I told him how much his grandfather would appreciate that. 
And he will. 

So see? It was a perfectly fine day with some very good moments.

But I am still sad. 

Love...Ms. Moon

  

A Sort Of Not-Much Post

Well, at least I am pretty sure I know what species of fish Dottie Frances is- she is a clownfish. 
Am I right or am I right? 
I got her almost, almost finished today. I just have a little more to do and then I can use up the rest of my tickets and get that lady fired. I can start another project and the thought of that is somewhat exciting. 

We got rain today and I am thrilled that it has fallen on my planted seeds. Grow, babies! Swell up and put forth life! Let's get this garden party started! 

And in the course of this evening I have written a review of Hamnet which was not flattering and talked about how there are so many well-regarded books that I am not in tune with at all. 
In a way, this makes me feel uneducated and also weird. 
La-di-da. 
I am who I am. I like what I like. And I do not like what I do not like. I deleted the whole review. 

Skyflower with firespike. 

Such a pretty girl. 

Here's another pretty girl. 

More tomorrow, most likely. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Getting My Hands Dirty While Being A Spoiled Brat

When I took that picture last night I thought I should name it "Half a moon is better than none."

Doesn't it look like I just photoshopped a knife-edged cut right down the middle of it? Like...there's something missing here.

Glen has gone to spend the night with his friend in ICU again. 
He's struggling. I meant Glen there, although it is impossible to tell if his friend is struggling or not. His condition is such that it is time to discuss alternatives in his care. And Glen, despite not being related to him, feels very strongly he knows what his friend would and would not want at this point. The man's only real relative beside his wife is a sister with whom he is not close at all. And really, it's the wife who has to make the hard decisions and Glen's not sure he has any right to try and influence those decisions while at the same time feeling as if he needs to be his friend's ally. 
He is, to say the least, conflicted. He wants so badly to do the right thing and yet...what is that? Who can really know? 
Things will unfold as they will, of course, but there are no easy answers here. I feel so sad that he is having to go through this with such a close friend. And literally two weeks ago, they were out fishing. But for tonight, he's going to sleep on that little recliner again. He has FSU football on the TV in the room and he's taking it all as it comes. 

He did some work in the garage today, trying to clear it out enough to park his (our) new car in it. We have purchased the car Tom owned when he died. There's a whole story there about WHY Tom needed a new car and let's just say he was not driving it legally. But it's a good vehicle, a Suburu, and is comfortable for him. It's a little higher off the ground than the Camry he's been driving for years for his in-town errands and when we take our trips. So it's easier for him to get in and out of. It has more computerized shit in it than anyone needs and all sorts of warnings and alarms making it practically impossible for a driver to run into anything or drive off the road or, hell. I don't know. Sing out of tune? I would not be surprised. He's going to disable a lot of that stuff because it's annoying. 
And all of this would be fine with me. Glen's always been the guy who picks out what we drive based on all sorts of criteria which range from dependability to resale value to gas milage to...well everything. 
And he never buys anything new. 
So yes, I trust Glen to buy the right car for us at the right time but I have a major problem with this car. Extremely major. And that is...the car is brown. 
It is brown, brown, brown. And the interior? Browner still. 
Oh, it's super cool that the seats have air-blowing, cooling abilities. It's cool that it's a very, very safe car. It's cool that there's lots of storage room. All that and a lot more is terrific. 
But the brown? 
I get a true visceral reaction from it and it's not a good visceral reaction and I have made that very clear and he's made it very clear that he's sorry but that's the way it is. 
This reminds me of the log cabin situation and yes, that project has come to a halt with the whole dealing-with-Tom's-estate thing and now this situation with his friend but that cabin, inside and out, was brown too, although he did put up sheetrock which he has painted and can paint so there's not quite as much brown. 
And I am ashamed of myself for getting so upset about such a small issue and I know it's the perfect example of a first world problem and I need to shut up because he's not going to change his mind but the thought of going on long journeys in that car depresses the hell out of me. 
Suck it up, buttercup. Get over it. 
I mean- you can get internet in that car. 
Today was the first time I'd actually seen the interior. We drove in it to Monticello for lunch just as little together-outing. We went to a supposed barbecue place we'd been to once several years ago and it sucked today as much as it had then. 
As Glen said, "In Monticello, it's pretty much the Mexican restaurant and everything there tastes the same."
"Yes," I told him, "But it's a good taste."
And I am right. 
But it was nice just to be out with my sweetheart and then, to make the date even more romantic and exciting, we went to Aldi's to pick up a few things and once again, the aisles were almost empty but luckily, this time I was not held hostage by anyone. 
I wanted some tofu because there's a recipe I want to try for crispy tofu and tonight would be the perfect time to do that. What I think I'm going to eat along with the hopefully incredibly crispy tofu, I do not know. Perhaps peppers and onions. Whatever. 

But the thing that has brought me the most joy today was planting my lettuce seeds. I planted one row of these:

And one of these:

The greens you see up there at the top left of the picture is the arugula. 

And, if this picture is any indication, Glen's okra plants are about to get blooms.

But what I wanted to say is that mixing compost into the dirt and sprinkling seeds into the rows I made with it and then patting them down like I was patting the sweet, plump bottom of a baby gave me such pleasure. 

Look how tiny they are. 
I'll water them in tomorrow. The soil wasn't dry because of the watering I did for the collards and mustards. 

There is something about the ancient alchemy of combining seeds and dirt and sun and water to create food that never fails to thrill me. 

And that's all I have to say about that. 

Love...Ms. Moon

All Is Well Here In Lloyd At Least

This may be one of my favorite photos I've ever taken. Can you see what I was trying to get a picture of? 
Here. Let me enlarge and crop.

The anoles have recently hatched and I have been trying so hard to get a photo of one of them. There are several problems with this though, one being that they're so tiny and they disguise so well that it's hard to see them in the first place and the other being they move like they have tiny rockets on their toes. And boy, are they scaredy cats.
So there I was, picking basil to put in a vase to root and also, as a little aromatic house greenery

when I saw that darling baby on a leaf and, again, trying not to scare the little creature I used one stealthy hand to try and get a decent close-up but by the time I got around to taking the actual picture, the anole had run up the fence. And I honestly do not want to terrify such an innocent creature who's just looking for yummy ants or gnats or something to eat. So I left it alone and wished it luck. 

Mr. Moon decided this morning to take his little boat out on the St. Mark's River and making that decision cheered him up so much. "I think it'll be good for me," he said. 
I agreed. 
And so that's what he did and he had a very nice day out on the water. He sent me a picture which is fairly hard to parse but here it is. 

It's a manatee and the trees are a reflection of the trees on the bank. He said he saw it when it was quite a distance from the boat and thought he was seeing an alligator. The manatee swam straight towards him and Glen was thinking that was one very aggressive gator when he realized what it truly was. The fact that the manatee swam to his boat so purposefully makes me think people have been feeding it although you can see scars on its back which were made by boat propellers and you would think the seacow would have been more leery of boats. This is so dreadfully common though, that people who study manatees identify individuals by the prop marks on their backs. And of course, many die from the wounds. There are sections of rivers which are clearly marked as no wake zones in order to prevent this but let's face it- people are assholes. And the assholes in this case are often complete jerks who have speedboats who don't feel that the no wake zone rule applies to them and they speed as fast as they can to express their pride and power. I guess. 
Anyway, he had a very fine day and I'm so glad he took the time to go do something that made him very happy. 

I did too, but it wasn't nearly as exciting. I actually and really cut and pulled a bunch of pumpkin vines which almost ripped my heart out but I did it and that was that. 
Not all of them! But quite a few. And then I weeded and cleared a spot that gets a lot of sun, added in compost and mixed it in and planted two rows of mustard greens. One row is a variety called "India Southern Giant Curled" and the other is an heirloom variety called "Green Wave." 

And then I turned the sprinkler on for a few hours to water them in. I really love mustard greens. While collards are very sturdy greens, mustards are more delicate and do not take as much time to cook. Like spinach but not quite. They cook down a lot which is also like spinach. Collards cook down too but not nearly as much as some greens. I like mustard greens cooked with other greens and in fact, I just love to make a pot of mixed greens, figuring that they all have different nutritional value and they also have their own flavors and textures which is nice. 
But one of the best things about mustard greens is that if you pick them when they're young and tender, they are fantastic raw in salads. They are hot and spicy. Just like...mustard. 
Good mustard. 

It was hotter in the garden today than yesterday because it wasn't overcast in the least while yesterday it was. But I got done what I got done and little by little, I will get this fall garden planted. 

I hung my sheets on the line again today. There is just nothing like line-dried sheets. I like line-dried towels too, although my husband is not as fond of them. He likes the way dryer-dried towels are softer. I feel like the stiffer, less soft ones are more absorbent. Or maybe I just don't mind them not being soft. But we do agree on the sheets. 
Maurice came out to join me at the clothesline. She didn't have a word to say concerning my clothes-pinning techniques. She just rolled about in the hot sandy dirt for a few minutes and then took a nap under the chair I put my clothes basket on. 

Here's a funny Maurice fact- Mark, our beloved friend and house/cat/crow sitter introduced her to a squeezable sort of treat which she took to like Glen takes to chocolate chip cookies. So I've been giving her a little container of that every evening but I tried an experiment tonight. I know she loves yogurt. Not plain yogurt. Get out of here with your plain yogurt. She likes the sweet kind with fruit. I was in the mood for a lemon-flavored yogurt myself and I gave her a few spoonfuls of it and she ate every visible bit of it. I have no idea where she developed a taste for this. She'll turn up her nose at tuna and chicken and all sorts of things cats are supposed to like but give that girl some blueberry yogurt and she is happy. 
I truly wonder what her childhood was like. 

I did some ironing and finished watching The Bear which is depressing. The Bear isn't depressing. The fact that I've finished the entire series is depressing. 
Okay. Sometimes The Bear is depressing. But it's also a whole lot of other human-emotion things ranging from joy to wonder to panic to regret to...well, all that human emotion stuff. 
Knowing me, I'll probably watch it again. 
One of the things I ironed is a dress that I bought so many years ago at Goodwill. So Lord knows how old it is. 
Despite the fact that it never really quite fit me, I could not get rid of it because I loved it so much. Especially the color which is a sort of purplish blue or blueish purple or, hell, I don't know. But I love it. It's linen and sits easy on my body now. It has no pockets which is its only flaw but I love it enough to overlook that when I wear it. 

It doesn't look like much on the hanger and it may not look like much on me but something about it feels like it was made for me. And that was one of the things I ironed. 

Mr. Moon is home. Martinis have been made. We're eating leftovers tonight and by the way- the shrimp salad was excellent and the heirloom peasant oat cake bread? It was not bad. I sliced it very thin, put out the butter, and all that fiber tasted pretty darn good. So I will heat some of that up tonight and along with the beans I cooked a few days ago and the rest of the shrimp salad, I think we'll survive. 

Okay. This bed looks so good I have to show you.

I think maybe we should sleep in the guest room in order not to mess it up. What do you think? 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon