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

A Definite Lack Of Pissyness Was Felt Today

Oh boy! Hang on to your hats, ladies and gentlemen, because today is going to be a wild ride!
Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.
I lied. 
And not to needlessly segue but I have to tell you that when Disney World shut down Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, I was sorrowful. I still am. I guess no one reads The Wind in the Willows anymore which is a damn shame. 
Actually, today has had its very nice moments. To begin with, it has really and truly felt like fall. Not so much temperature-wise although it hasn't gotten above ninety degrees, but the humidity is down to almost 50% which makes a huge difference. And it's also the light. The way the light falls as the earth's axis begins its tilt away from the sun. I couldn't describe that accurately if I tried but I viscerally know it when it happens. And the hurricane lilies- of course. They know it's fall. A sure and visual sign.

The pecan leaves which are the last to appear and the first to go are dropping, swirling in the breezes which are also stronger. Another tell. And who knows what I subconsciously register after all the autumns I've experienced? 
Our seasons are not nearly as delineated as those of a lot of the world but we can feel them. They are subtle but they are real. 

And I've had a good day doing just the regular things people do. I decided to make use of the slight change in the weather by finally getting my collard seeds in the ground. 

I dug up some compost and took it to the garden and made two shortish trench rows (crooked, of course) and filled them with the stuff which surprisingly does not smell bad at all. In fact, it almost had a rather pleasant odor. I covered that up and patted it down and planted the little black, round seeds that all the cruciferous greens have over the small attempt at soil enrichment. When I plant these seeds, I always think of the Bible verse that tells us that if we have faith the size of a mustard seed, we can move mountains. 
And I always think, "I wish."
What I wish for are good crops of collards and mustard greens, kale and turnips. Last year's greens were a huge disappointment. I plan on utilizing more fertilizer of the organic sort this year and see if that helps. I know that one of our problems is that the trees which cast shade on the garden have grown ever-taller and broader since we started gardening here, and so the necessary number of hours of direct sun has been cut dramatically. 
Well. We do what we can do. 
I need to get the lettuces in too. The arugula I planted is, of course, dancing merrily into elementary school age size, strong and green. I'm not sure anything can interfere with its desire to live and grow.
I turned on the sprinklers which cover the part of the garden I planted the collards in and so that, at least, is done. And I did not once feel as if I might die of the heat. 
I will be pulling the pumpkin vines soon. For real. They have mostly done their job. I have harvested six pumpkins and have at least two more I will cut from their mother vines soon. 

The mushrooms in the picture at the top are growing in my backyard between two of the crow-feeding stumps. They are probably five to six inches across. 

I am no mycologist by any means whatsoever but these giants have intrigued me. 

What if they are some sort of delicious gourmet mushroom? 
So I searched that shit up (haha!) and it would appear that they are false parasol mushrooms. The real parasol mushrooms are indeed prized for their taste. The false ones won't kill you but from what I've read, you might wish they had because the gastric reaction to them is quite intense. And painful. And uncomfortable. 
Oh well. I can enjoy them for their beauty. 

I did not make the gumbo I was thinking I would. It's not a difficult thing to make but it's time consuming and I just did not feel like it. Instead, I decided on the old stand-by, shrimp salad, and honestly that takes just about as much time and effort as gumbo. 
Sigh. 
I've also made a bread dough that I know is going to bake up dense and brick-like. I believe I will tell Mr. Moon that it is from an heirloom recipe for peasant oat cake. That'll work, right? I mean, heirloom seeds and plants are greatly valued these days. Why not...peasant oat cake?

Mr. Moon's friend's condition has not improved. 
I don't feel as if I have the necessary information or authority to discuss this further but it is very much affecting my husband. 

We never know, we never know. 

What I do know is that I was moved to stop and just look and listen and feel today while outside. To feel the changes, to see the changes, to hear what the birds have to say about it all. I swear, I can hear the difference in the air. I did not tell myself to do this. I was just aware that I should. It struck me as all being quite beautiful and I was grateful. 

Love...Ms. Moon

It Was Worth Getting Up Before The Sun Came Up

It took me two and a half hours to do the dark green, light blue, and pink scales near Dotty Frances' tail and to start lining the parts of the fins. And add a little bit to her face. 
Two and one-half hours. 
And I wasn't stopping for coffee breaks, either. Oh well. I am going to work on it here at home some more because if I don't, that poor thing won't be fired by the end of this session. 
Pottery seemed rather light-hearted today while at the same time, everyone was busy. Most of us were doing something with glaze. 
Glazing, I guess we would call it. Lizzie was painting her little doggies and cats and snakes. Now THAT is fussy work. I should have gotten a picture. Her hand is far steadier than mine.
Jessie was working on glazing and painting a planter pot she's made for August's birthday which is coming up quick, quick. He has a fern he's been growing on his window sill but it needs a bigger pot and so his talented mama has made him one. She painted a dragon on it which is a copy of a dragon in a series of books that August loves. I believe the dragon's name is "Skywing." She was overwhelmed when she first sat down with her glazes and brushes and the picture she wanted to follow. 
"I can't do this," she said. This is not something I usually hear Jessie say. 
Lizzie and I told her that of course she could and so she began and by the end of class, here's what she and the little pot looked like.

Here's a closer look. 

She painted August's name inside and also Happy Birthday! 
I think that boy is going to be thrilled. 

We were all fairly industrious and I saw a lot of good work being done. 
Gentleman Caller™came in just before class was over. I made Lizzie and him pose for a picture. 

Now is that an adorable couple or what? Lizzie won't be in class next week as she is taking one of her daughters to Belize to celebrate milestone birthdays for both of them. I have to say that Lizzie is a far better mother in many ways than I am. Grandmother too, to tell you the truth. 
Oh well. We get the mother we get. Some kids get a Lizzie, some get a Mary. 

After class, we met Lily for lunch at the former Japanica! now Kyoto. Jessie and Lily got sushi and I got a Bento box with tofu. Of course. And it was good. 

Dammit, right after we got there, Lily said something that made me laugh so hard and I swore to myself that I'd remember it but of course I do not. I'm pathetic. Anyway, I remembered to take their picture. 

Am I a lucky mama or what? 

I have recently learned a new term which I adore. I got it from Elizabeth Aquino's Substack. At least I think I did. The term is "search it up," which takes the place of "look it up" or "google it" because those are now insufficient in a world where there are many, many online sources in which to gather information about whatever you may be wondering about. 
But I simply the love the sound of it and how it so accurately describes what we do now when we are looking for answers to all of our questions. 
Search it up! 

And today I learned a new one. It's the slang word "delulu." Jessie told me this one. Miriam Webster tells us what it means and its derivation HERE. 
It's pretty self-explanatory as of course it comes from the word "delusional" but gosh. How can you not love delulu? 
Are you delulu? Wake up! 
Now will I start using these? 
I shouldn't. When older people use popular slang, I am always reminded of the pastors of churches where guitars were used instead of organs who said things like, "Our god is a GROOVY god. He is a FAR-OUT god." 
Know what I mean? 
Just...no. 
But I hate being cheated out of the opportunity to call someone (including myself) delulu or to tell someone to search it up.
I know I'm old and I would never try to make myself seem cool here in my old age but gee-whiz, Beaver! 
You know what I mean? You get me, man? 

Well, we shall see what happens here. 

Meanwhile, I'm going to go cook some grouper and some sort of vegetable matter. We could have leftover collard greens but despite those hours of simmering, they were tough as old shoelaces. What a disappointment that was. 
However, the beans with smoked turkey were fantastic. So was the cornbread. 
I do have some store-bought okra but I'm thinking I'd like to make a gumbo with that. 
Oh gosh. So many culinary problems. 

Better get to it.

Love...Ms. Moon







 

I Am Not Cranky. I Am Pissy

Here we have a Gulf Fritillary on a marigold. Now, because I have the weird need to point out my deficiencies whenever possible, I will tell you that I was pretty far away when I took that picture, thus the vast imperfection of it, but I was holding a basket with one hand, the phone in the other, and did not want to move because I was afraid the butterfly would get scared off. 
So. That is what you get. 

I've been cranky again today but mostly in my mind. I think I'd rather call how I'm feeling as pissy. Yes. I am pissy. But again, I've been as nice as can be to my husband and also to a young man who's been doing some work for Glen on Tom's house and property. He came over this afternoon for a few minutes and he was just the sweetest guy. Well, the guy isn't that young. He has children and everything. He and his wife are friends with Jessie and Vergil, I do believe. 
Whatever. The point is- my pissiness mostly extends to myself. I am simply in a rather angry mood and feel as if I am a worthless old woman who is taking up space that would be far better used by, let's say, a young person with children. 
Now please, please do not start telling me that's not true and listing ways that I am not worthless and so on and so forth. I know all of that. It's just that sometimes this is the way I feel and there's no getting around it. 
It will pass. 
And I have to tell you about a truly almost-magical experience I had today. I was working outside on one of the beds beside the back porch steps, trying to clear out border grass and crocosmia and so forth. We all know this story by now. It was shady there and I thought it would not be so horribly hot but it was. Still, I managed to work for almost an hour before my glasses were so covered in sweat that I couldn't see. 
And that translated to this much cleared space. 

Why, after all this time, do I think that pulling up these vile plant-enemies of mine will be such a simple task? 
Because obviously, I am a slow learner. 
But I did that much and I trimmed a bit of the wisteria growing on the arbor right beside that bed and then, when I had done all I felt I could do, I went to go into the house via the back porch steps when I looked down right in front of the door we go in and out of on the top step to see this. 

My brain didn't even register it at first. And then...it did. 
What in the world was this? 
I bent over and picked it up. It may be glass but I really don't think so. I believe it may be uncut purple quartz which we also call amethyst. I can recognize no shape or form of glass it could have been a part of and honestly, it doesn't matter. 
I can think of no other reason for it to be right there where I was sure to find it than that a crow left it for me. 
It did not fall from the sky. It did not fall from the pecan tree. It did not fall from the roof. Glen did not put it there. Maurice most certainly did not bring it to me. I have never seen it in my life. 
And you know- I feel a certain sort of wonder at this. How could I not? 
I will readily admit that I began feeding the crows because of this very thing. That people who feed crows are often given gifts, often of shiny things, the crows seem to leave for them as...what? Tokens of appreciation? Equal trade representations? Encouragement to keep on feeding them?
Whatever it is, it feels like an acknowledgement. Just as I have come to recognize these five very, very large crows who come to eat at the stumps where I lay out their mealworms and peanuts, they seem to recognize that I, the woman they see placing those things on the stumps and whom they can see opening that porch door and going down those steps with their food in my hands, am responsible for these goodies. Whatever their motive is in leaving treasures doesn't matter to me. I can't even begin to understand what goes on in the mind of a crow. What I do understand is that they have come to know me and my habits and that is pretty darn swell. 
I am quite overwhelmed, to tell you the truth. 

I've been cooking a pot of black, pinto, and red beans with smoked turkey leg pieces most of the day. The reason for the mixture is that I didn't have enough of one kind of bean to fill the pot. They look lovely and they taste very, very good. I'm also cooking a pot of collard greens but obviously not collard greens that I've grown. I feel sort of like a person who sticks artificial flowers in vases for a photo shoot. This is cheating. 
But I'm craving them, plus, I want to taste some of my pepper vinegars. The greens have been in my refrigerator for days and they certainly weren't exactly young and tender when they got cut up and put in the bag in which I bought them. 
Oh well. Needs must. And I am doing the southern MeeMaw thing and cooking the ever-loving hell out of them. 

Perhaps I'll make some rice to go with or perhaps I'll just make some cornbread. 

I've worked on my fish some more. Why is this so satisfying? 

Tomorrow is pottery and so I'll wrap her back up and pack the glazes and see what I get accomplished in class. 
I am sort of thinking that my next project might be a bowl in which I can put our collection of crow treasures in. I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. Would it be shaped and glazed to resemble a crow or would it be a regular bowl with a crow image inside it? Or a leaf bowl with a crow inside it? A magnolia leaf bowl, perhaps. 
I shall ponder. It will come to me. 

No change in Glen's friend's condition. 
Maurice continues to spend a great deal of time on his lap. 
As he said, "She knows."

Love...Ms. Moon