Friday, July 10, 2009
Home. By Jessie.
When Jessie was out yesterday, she had her new camera with her and snapped many pictures.
She took pictures of the post office box and the porches and spiders and dirt dauber structures and our house and the dogs and me and her daddy.
She's on her way to Miami now to catch the plane for Jamaica and I'm thinking about her. I'm also thinking about how really, I need to pour a little water over the flames of my ego and realize that trying to protect and shelter my children even when they are adults is mostly evidence of a vast over-fed sense of my abilities. And it also implies that I don't trust their abilities which I very much do so what's the deal here?
I'm here if they need me. They know it and that's that.
Or that's what I'm trying to learn now and it's about damn time.
On to the pictures. Click on them to see them in their full-sized glory.
Here's me and Mr. Moon. He's eating the last of the blackberry cobbler I made last weekend. With ice cream on it. Mr. Moon loves ice cream. I love Mr. Moon.
This is where I get my mail every day. The boxes are just like the ones in the Roseland post office when I was a child. I think our number there was 174 but I'm not sure. Our post mistress in Roseland was a woman named Nelly. Our post mistresses here is a woman named Joanne. I have grown up to come home.
Our house. It's a very, very, very fine house. And there indeed two cats in the yard. Check out the live oak on the left. It's huge. I read a thing the other day that said live oaks live 600 years. Two hundred to grow, two hundred to live, two hundred to die. I have no idea if this is true or not, but I think that tree is at least two hundred years old.
And here's me, standing in the little yard of my office, surveying my pinecone lillies, my phlox, my ferns. Buster is surveying with me.
And finally, because they are so pretty and photogenic, two pictures of the chickens.
Yes. Suzie is really that big and Miss Betty is really that small.
And the little ones. See Elmira way in the back with her little head poking up? She must be related to Miss Betty. But she's a plucky, healthy chick. Aren't the teenager chickens funny looking with their feathers all coming in and sticking out everywhere as if they hadn't figured out quite where to go yet? I think they are.
And looking at these pictures, I realize that I have plenty to worry about and take care of right here where I live. And that the children, my grown-up, very capable, very smart and amazing children, know where they can find me if they need me.
Right here, maybe in my garden. They can just fly right over here on their own strong wings.