Another Report

Yesterday I had the best experience. I got to meet Barbara Rogers from When I Was 69. 
Barb's been living in Black Mountain for a lot of years but she's moving to Colorado next week and so it was by by chance and by luck that we got to meet during my visit here. 
When we first saw each other she said the very best thing which was, "You look just like you're supposed to!" and I said, "And you look just like YOU'RE supposed to."
And we did. Which is how it should be, isn't it? I remember the first time I met Steve Reed. He stopped in Lloyd on one his trips to Florida to visit family and after a little while of us chatting and me showing him around I asked if he thought I'd represented Lloyd correctly. 
He said I had. 
And that made me happy. 
And just as when I met Steve and every other blogger I've met in real life, I felt as if I'd known Barbara forever and in some ways, I have! When someone writes about their life, the ups and downs, the fears and joys, the sicknesses and health, we come to feel a part of that life. We have invested time and thought and energy into them. 
I think it's a beautiful thing.

Jessie went with me, of course, because I am NOT driving these mountain roads. No way. Also, I wanted her to come. And we both enjoyed our visit with Barb so much. She's as sweet and as funny as I imagined she would be. She's also incredibly positive and cheerful, i.e., just about the opposite of me, and I loved that. 
So we drank our coffee and chatted and learned new things about each other. It was a stellar experience. 

After we'd hugged goodbye and went our separate ways, Jessie and I did a little bit of thrift shopping before Glen was due to bring the boys into town to meet us for lunch. Vergil had been out spreading something like four tons of gravel on their property on the mountain but he came in and met us too. 
The thrift stores in this area are so far superior to the ones we have in Tallahassee and Monticello that it's ridiculous. They not only have all the good brands, the prices are lower, the fabrics are more on the found-in-nature side, and a lot of people around here obviously have really good taste, which means like mine. We rushed, rushed, rushed through a Kiwanis thrift store and then a Goodwill. I got two very nice sweater things, a slip because I forgot to bring one which rendered two of my dresses unwearable, and...a pair of in excellent condition Converse low-tops! I've been wanting a pair of those forever. 
And, okay. 
This.

Just the sweetest little pottery vase and you know I can't pass up a lovely vase that steals my heart. Here it is with the other things on the window sill in the kitchen.

Can we cozy-up a place or what? The greenery on the right is basil the lady down the road gave Jessie from her garden yesterday when she was out walking Sophie. Some of it went into our salad last night and it was so good. We bought the peaches on the way here and the tomatoes are from our garden. They went into the salad too. 

After lunch, Jessie and I did another grocery shopping because that is what we do. When it comes time to pack up on Tuesday morning we're not going to be thrilled but what are you going to do? We have six people to feed, two of them growing boys. Growing by the second. And they do not deliver pizza to the place we're staying. 
Just like Lloyd!

The young boys and the old boys and Jessie have been using the basketball court.

The first night we were here Levon beat both his father and his grandfather in H-O-R-S-E. Last night Glen won a round and he felt a little better about himself but not as good as he feels about Levon's skills. 

Pictures.

From supper last night which was Boppy-caught grouper and grits. 

Boppy has a rule that for each bone a child finds in the fish he caught, he'll get a quarter. 
Both boys made two dollars. Glen left the rib cages in. 

More food. Breakfast this time. 

Y'all- we're eating at MerMer's restaurant. This morning was pancakes of course, bacon, and eggs. There was so much fruit in the pancakes they were totally health food. 

And then this afternoon we took a teeny hike up a trail that parallels the little creek that flows through the yard here. It was the sweetest time. 

Sophie was ecstatic, running, running, running and then returning to her people, having a cool-off in the creek.

Boppy panning for gold. He didn't find any. 

Mountain laurel. 

Rattlesnake plantain.

Coral fungus.

Possibly Red Chanterelle Mushrooms?

It was just a short little hike. The boys scrambled about on the rocks in the creek and Levon hunted for salamanders. It was so very peaceful. It was also a powerful lesson in the calming and grounding abilities of the woods. I noticed so many more things on the way down than on the way up. These woods are quite different from our Florida woodlands although they both have their own beauty. 

This has been such a good little getaway. I've had so little stress and so much pleasure. I've loved cooking for everyone. It gives me a sense of purpose and satisfaction to see everyone fill plates and enjoy the food I've made. The little guys have been tremendous, open to everything, enthusiastic, and very, very funny. They make me laugh all the time. They are so different and yet never really fight, they adore each other. It's a beautiful thing to watch as is the way Jessie and Vergil parent. 

We leave on Tuesday which means tomorrow will be our last day here. I can't believe the time has passed this quickly but it has and always does, no matter how hard I try to be present and in the moment. 
This is the way of it, isn't it? 

Love...Ms. Moon

Ain't We Got Fun?

 

Glen took this picture on Wednesday evening when we were walking back to our hotel after our supper. Now if this isn't the most charming little southern town you've ever seen, I don't know what could be. 
Abbeville, South Carolina and it is famous for being "Both the birthplace and deathbed of the confederacy."
Well. What can you say to that? 
The place we stayed was pretty historic but I have to say there was just something off there. I don't even want to go into it. Let's just move on. 
I must mention, however, a very, very old lady whom we met Thursday morning. She was as bright eyed as a little bird and had very dyed red hair. She wanted to chat and I would have given a hundred dollars to record her voice. She had an accent unlike any I've ever heard and whether or not it is a typical S.C. accent, I do not know. On top of that, her voice was as high and sweet as a young girl's. 
I asked her if she lived there. I knew there were a few people who did make the place their residence. She said no, she was only staying there for a week until she could find a place to live because her house had been condee-emed. 
Things had just gotten away from her and it was so expensive to fix up a place, you know, and she didn't know what she was going to do. 
I felt so bad for her. She didn't seem overly upset but more bewildered. I wondered- had she no children? No one to help her? 
I will not soon forget her.

We drove almost all backroads and it was about the least stressful trip I've ever made. We made it here on Thursday around 2:30, met up with Jessie, did our grocery shopping, and then Glen and I got to the house we'd rented, unloaded the car, and I started in on a pot of chicken and dumplings. 
Of course. 
They were good, by the way. Seriously good. 
And not hard as rocks. 

We have stayed here before, for sure, and it is adequate and more so. 

Boppy doing what Boppy does best. Teaching children how to play poker. 

So Jessie had bought tickets for all of us to go tour the Biltmore mansion and gardens today which I was a little worried about because I knew it was going to be a long day with lots of walking and besides that, we had to GET UP EARLY but I also knew that it was going to be amazing. 
And it was. 
Mostly pictures here, people.

A view of the mansion on the drive in. 

We started out at the gardens and the hot houses. Y'all- I was so overwhelmed by the plants that I literally disassociated. There was ten thousand times more sensory input from all of those plants and flowers than any Walmart in the world could provide. 
It was heaven and it was not easy. 

And it went on forever from hot house to green house to cool house. I could not begin to take it all in. That would require a lifetime. 

And then we moved on and walked up to the mansion although I really think it should be called a castle. Good Lord. We walked through a rose garden and more flowers and more exotic trees and there were fountains and statuary and koi ponds and we got coffee and other beverages and we took the boys to a toy store where the shops are and I got them both a grandma pick-out-what-you-want present. August got a kit to make models of some sort and Levon wanted a little stuffy hedgehog whose name is now MoMo and he loves his new friend. August, as we speak, is working on his models. 

Jessie had made lunch reservations for us at the Stable Cafe and yes, it was a cafe set in the old stable. The food was so good and we had so much left over that we're having the leftovers, along with some chicken and dumplings for supper.

And then on to the house tour and I now feel like we've had been on some sort of voyage to the past. 
I'm not going to go into any of the history of the Biltmore's or any of that. Look it up. But Jesus God Almighty, they had a lot of money. The Biltmores, that is.

This is just one piece of art in the house. There are Rembrandts and Matisse's and John Singer Sargents and Rembrandt and I have no idea what else but this lady, "Rosita, the Lady in Red" by Spanish artist Ignacio Zuloaga, especially charmed me. 

A picture from the library. The circular staircase comes down from the floor where the guest rooms are so that they could take them to go find a book to read, should the need arise. 

The music room. Boud- the tapestries are from the early 16th century. 

The entrance to the mansion (or one of them at least). 
Look up. It's worth it. 

The breakfast room.

Also from the breakfast room. The windows would not have been shaded and light would have flooded it in the morning. Almost every room had a view of the beautiful mountains beyond. 

We walked down hallways as long as football fields, we climbed circular staircases up and up and up and we climbed ones that, although not circular, also took us into the far realms of the house. We went down staircases that took us to the kitchens, the pantries, the laundry rooms, the servants' rooms. After awhile I just stopped taking pictures. It was all too much. 
I cannot imagine what sort of person would want to build such a place. The audio guided tour we were all able to listen to made it seem that Biltmore had nothing more in mind than the good of Asheville and the glory of its stones and and rocks and the views and good, healthy air, and a place where the very most interesting and educated people in the world would want to come together to glory in the scenery, to enjoy the hospitality, to meet and learn from each other. 
Okay. Maybe. Whatever, it's certainly a hell of an impressive place and I'm so glad we got to see it. 
Especially the gardens. 

We're back at the house having Friday night martinis in the quiet of this beautiful place.

The creek gurgles, the air is still tonight. It's been a very good day. 
When I woke up at 7:15 this morning and knew I had to get up, part of me thought, "Oh god. I do not want to do this."

But more of me said, "This is going to be amazing."

And it was. In all ways. 
I asked August on our way home today what his favorite part of the day had been. He said, "You guys." 
I clarified this and he meant his grandfather and me. 
I can hardly bear the sweetness of it. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Memories And A Very Bizarre Dream

As always when we go away on a little trip, my posting is spotty, at best. And my comments on other blogs are usually nonexistent. And I think that's a good thing. I still get hungry to write and to post but there's just so much always going on and I know where my attention should be. 
And in lieu of much of a post today, I'm going to give you pictures from past trips to North Carolina. They're a good record of how much the grands have grown and how swiftly the years have gone by. I spent most of the day packing which for some reason took hours and hours. I did iron a few things but not a closet full. I also made a run to Publix, mostly to get the things that Mark likes to have here. He has pretty simple tastes. My favorite request that he always makes is for "little Pepsi's" which are the mini-can version of them. I just love buying those little Pepsi's, probably because it's one tiny thing I can do to make Mark happy because he is the most wonderful house and cat-sitter a person could ask for and I WANT him to be happy. 
Mr. Moon is talking about leaving here by nine tomorrow morning and I feel like that's impossible but of course it's not. Not if I get my butt out of bed before my regular wake-up time which is around 8:30. I'll just pretend it's a pottery day, which it would be if we weren't going out of town, and struggle up out of sleep around seven. That should do it. 
I hope.
This morning I had my first AI nightmare. I'm serious. It was pretty awful. There was some guy who was a cult leader and he was trying to recruit members for his cult and he gaslighted them by using examples of AI to convince them of the magic and wonder of this cult, including getting all four of the Beatles together to give a little talk, I guess. I'm not sure if the cult leader himself was AI but I think he was and I just kept screaming, "It's all fake! Can't you people see this? Don't you understand?" and for some reason all of this was happening at my house where there were hundreds of people and children, too. 
There was a battle between me and Cult Guy and it was fierce and bloody. I finally defeated him because unlike him, I am real flesh and blood, and strong enough to give birth to true human life, not fake AI bullshit life. 
Perhaps getting up earlier will prevent more dreams like this. 

Here are some pictures and no, I don't have them dated which I should but I don't. 

Here's very young, pre-Levon August. I have the sweetest memory of when that was taken. Jessie, Glen, and I had taken August out for breakfast and he was so hungry. It was taking a very long time for the food to come out and at one point, August looked at the server and said in the most piteous voice, "Waffies, please..."

Levon loving on his Boppy. 

I swear- this was not prop-posed. That was really the headline of this local paper Jessie picked up to look through while Levon was proving the truth of it. 

Boppy teaching August to fish in the lake at Camp Rockmont where August and Levon just spent two weeks and Jessie was camp nurse. 

August's first fish. His grandfather was so thrilled. 

These next ones are pictures from the year that Lily and Jason brought their kiddos up to North Carolina. We all stayed in what had once been Vergil's grandmother's beautiful house on Black Mountain. It was a spectacular visit. 

The Little Maggie Missy. Lord was she just the cutest cherub or what?

Our suppers together were wonderful 

This may be one of the most precious pictures ever taken in the history of picture taking. 
Maggie and August, posing on a tree stump when we were all at a beautiful river with a little waterfall. 

Not sure where Maggie was in this one but she may have been in the same mood as Levon obviously was. Look at Owen and Gibson. They, too, were still babies, at least in relation to the way-taller-than-me versions of them now. 

A much more recent picture of when we took a tiny little hike in the North Carolina woods. I do believe a waterfall was involved. 

What I remember about this picture is that Vergil had taken us to this beautiful river to swim and Jessie was pregnant with Levon. She had a cold, I think, and was exhausted from being sick and from, you know- creating life- so she was taking a nap in the car. I was just sort of hanging out loving the cold water and this young-ish guy floated up on an inner tube. We started talking a little bit and then he said to me, "I am so fucking stoned." 
"We've all been there, honey," I said. I was very honored that he felt he could share that with me. I felt maybe like I had "Old Hippie" tattooed on my forehead, visible only to those so fucking stoned.

August and Levon trying to levitate with the energy of being so wired and tired they temporarily attempted to lose their grip on gravity. It sort of worked. 

Outside, doing outside stuff.

I am never not amazed at how those boys can navigate the slippery rocks as if they were walking across a kitchen floor. I am in constant fear I'm going to slip and fall and kill myself or at least cause severe damage to my own personal body or head. And Levon rock and root climbing? 
Good Lord.

So that's it. I really need to go cut up some vegetables to make a sauce with for our supper. 

I'll be checking in at some point. You know I can't pass up an opportunity to tell a good story and I am sure we will have a few to tell. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Oh God. Getting Into The Philosophical Here

August and Levon went up the mountain a little ways to Grandma Julia's house this morning to do arts and crafts and came home with things they'd written. I hope you can read them. August wrote a poem which you can see above. And Levon wrote this.

Yes. They are my grandchildren but I think these writings are fantastic! Levon's title alone is perfect. 

I talked to Jessie on the phone this morning. We hadn't really talked on the phone much since they left which is odd but we do text a lot. Relatively. We caught up on some stuff and made plans, both serious and silly about what we'd do when her dad and I get there. 
We both determined that the house I've rented is the same one we stayed in in 2022. The furniture and light fixtures appear to have been changed. We could be wrong, but the outside looks like it to me. You'd think I could remember something like that from four years ago but no, I don't. 

I have packed exactly one skirt. 
I had Glen get my suitcase out of the closet and I put the skirt and two dresses in it and then took the dresses out. I have two other ones I'm going to put in and those and the dress I'll be wearing up there are going to be all the dresses I pack, I do believe. Two pairs of cargo shorts. A few tank tops and tee shirts. Underwear. A nightgown. A bathing suit. Perhaps one pair of jeans and I probably won't need them but it does get cooler there at night than it does here. 
And I won't even need all of that. 
I'm glad we so recently went on our little trip to Tennessee because perhaps I have learned something from that about how very little I really need and how very much I do not need.

We shall see how well I learned these lessons tomorrow when get serious about it.

What I mostly did today was to finish shelling all the field peas I'd picked and then blanching and bagging them. They're in the freezer now. This is a labor of love because it's so labor intensive. Of course it's not hard work and shelling peas does not make my left hand go numb like snapping green beans does. Different movement of the wrist. And I watched a few more episodes of The Bear and am on Season 2 now. I am glad there are five seasons all together because I think this is a show I can easily stay involved with, continue being entertained by. Sure seems like it at this point. 
But here's my entire output of shelled peas which are now in the freezer.

Not too impressive, right? But the peas I'd picked and already shelled will not go to waste and hopefully, when we get back, there will still be more for me to process. And every pea will be consumed and enjoyed at some point this winter. 

Sometimes I feel like I'm being such a fool for spending so much time growing food and canning or freezing or pickling it. I mean- we can afford to buy groceries at the store and if you figured in labor costs, we are not saving any money at all. And even if the food we grow does taste better and is innocent of chemical fertilizers or insecticides, am I making the best use of the dwindling number of years I have left? I wonder this about pottery too. I am not helping one soul in this world by spending weeks on a project, whether fish or flower, and nothing I make is ever going to have any more value than that of nostalgia. 
If that. 
None of these things seem to matter much but if you think about the enormity of the universe and the fact that we are all just going to die at the end of our lives, it doesn't really matter much if something doesn't matter much. 
Do you know what I mean?
So many people have theories about what the purpose of our human existence is on this planet. Is it to preach some gospel so that people will be assured of an afterlife? 
Fuck no. That I am pretty sure of. 
Is it to have the cleanest, tidiest house in the community or the neatest and most well-trimmed yard on the block? 
Is to make the most money, to wear the most expensive jewelry, to have the most sculpted face and body? Is it to be famous, to be heroic, to live forever or whatever the next best thing is, in the history of humankind like Plato or Socrates or DaVinci or Michelangelo or Linus Pauling or Shakespeare or whoever it was that made the art on the walls of caves in France 20,000 years ago? Is it to die a horrible death in the name of a god or a country or a cause? Is it to find the cure for cancer or be the first man on the moon or the designer of a royal bride's wedding dress?
I have no idea. 
Biologically, our purpose is to make more of ourselves. To breed and create new human beings to continue the species but just as every oak tree does not create new oak trees, not all of us are meant for reproductive purposes for many and various reasons including not having any interest in doing that at all. 
Good Old Jesus supposedly said that the most important thing is to love our neighbors as ourselves. 
This is generally harder to do than it sounds but most of us are capable of loving those we love and at least trying to respect those we don't. In these days and times that is not always possible. 
You know what I'm talking about. 

And I have no answers. All I know is that I do love working in my garden and also in my yard. Actually, anywhere I can be on my knees in the dirt. I enjoy pottery a great deal. I loved my babies more than anything I have ever known and I loved the fact that my body, which I had never loved or respected at all, had allowed these humans to form and grow and be born from and then was able to nourish them, and then my grandbabies too, whose lives I have been so fortunate to be involved with. I love being in a relationship with my husband, even with all of the sturm und drang which has necessarily sometimes arisen in our 42 years together. I love cooking for those I love. I love my house. I love the ocean, the rivers, the creeks, the lakes. 
I love the trees. 
And I love the writing. So much more than you can probably imagine. 

And is loving these things a good enough purpose in life? 

Who knows? Not me. In this instance, I am clueless. All I know is that I think love has a lot to do with it. And love is not always easy nor is it simple. And as important as I think it is, I have no idea if it's the true meaning of the purpose of our lives. 
I don't think I ever will know. 
I do know that kindness is very important. I stand by that. And humor. Where in the world would we be without it? My advice is, never trust anyone who has no sense of humor. 

I've made a soup of the chicken I roasted last Friday (I think) and carrots and green beans and squash and tomatoes from our garden. 
Also, other vegetables. 
I will add orzo in just a few minutes and I'll grate a little parmesan over it before we eat. 

If there is anything I would like to be remembered for, it is that I could cook, and I could dance. But you know what? In fifty years I won't be remembered at all. 
And that is fine with me. 

Love...Ms. Moon