Monday, February 20, 2012

Tennessee Mama's China

Mr. Moon is home and that bruise on his ass/hip is so bad that I was horrified. HORRIFIED! I told him he should go to the doctor to see if he has a blood disorder but he won't and I wouldn't either. That's the way we are.
He fell on it full-force, not having time to brace his fall and I guess that's what happens but shitfire. He says it doesn't hurt and I believe him but...still.

His sister is planning on selling her house and so she sent some things home with Mr. Moon. Three boxes filled with their grandmother's china, for one thing. Golly, that's some sweet china. Their grandmother, from what I hear, was a force of nature. She put wallpaper on her ceilings with a broom. She quilted endlessly. She cut hair, sewed clothing, crocheted bedspreads and tablecloths, doctored the poor, ran a broom-making business, raised three kids on her own, built her own quilting frame and baked so much at Christmas that she toted cake batter in buckets to her son and daughter-in-law's house (Mr. Moon's mama and daddy) to bake in their oven. This was a little ol' Tennessee mama who probably didn't get educated past the sixth grade but we've still got things in our house she made and now we've got her china.

At least one set of it. I hear that she loved china and had many sets.

We've put it away in a closet to save for Apalachicola. Seems like we're putting a lot of things off for Apalachicola. But, I guess that's okay. It's good to have something to look forward to. Change is inevitable and I'd just as soon buy my own ticket and be waiting at the proper gate than to be taken by surprise, although let's face it- that's going to happen too.

Another thing Mr. Moon brought home was a box of books and magazines. The books were all about Florida birds and butterflies and trees and gardening and there was a big stack of Florida Gardening magazines. I was flipping through them and saw a little article on Spanish patio gardening- gardening up and down the walls, as it were- and again, I thought of Apalachicola. Our lot down there is skinny and long and it goes into the marshlands and we're not going to be able to have a proper garden so I've already resigned myself to growing tomatoes and herbs and peppers and lettuces in pots on the decks. It was nice to garner a few ideas about growing things in window boxes too. Flowers and yes, herbs. Those will be fine, growing in containers.

It's going to be okay. I swear, it's going to be beautiful, moving to Apalach in three or four years. There are going to be changes and I don't know what the hell I'm going to do without my chickens. I need to research the city ordinances down there to see if I can maybe keep a few banty hens, at least. I can't even imagine living without chickens now. But it sure will be nice to have a grocery store within walking distance and a bookstore, too. To live right on the Apalachicola Bay and be able to watch pelicans fly by when I have my morning coffee. To watch the water, the sky, the shrimp boats heading out to the Gulf.

We have to build the house first, of course. A brand new house? Wow. That I can hardly imagine but it'll help if I can open a cabinet and find the dishes that Glen's grandmother used in Tennessee.

It's odd to think of all of this. It's weird. But I guess it's going to happen. And I'm trying very hard to bend my thoughts to it all.

We've stored the china upstairs and it's sitting there, just waiting for us. I think of all the meals which have been served on it. I am cooking black-eyed peas and collard greens and cornbread right now. I cook like an old country woman and always have. I'll be honored and happy to eat off the china of an old Tennessee mama. There will probably be more meals with seafood, but there will still be black-eyed peas, there will be greens. There WILL be cornbread.

Lord, life is strange. You just never know.

Well, that's it for tonight. I think the cornbread's about done. I need to put out the honey.

My man is home. He's fine and safe, despite the bruise on his hip. I got everything I need and so much more. And whatever else comes? Well, that'll be okay, too. Maybe it'll be glorious.

The bread's done.

Talk to you later.

Ms. Moon


  1. I feel preemptively mournful about you leaving your grand old house. I love your chickens and garden so much.

    It might ease my grief a little if you posted your recipe/method for blackeyed peas and collard greens and cornbread.

  2. I don't know what the hell is going on with Blogger and comments, but it just ate two of mine.

    I can smell the cornbread and beans and I want some.

  3. Wait, what? I have missed reading I thought only for a week or so. But I don't understand. Why are you moving? If you have time can you link me to the post about this? I feel like my heart fell out. How can you move from there? That is your soul house, your dream place. I'm so confused. Sorry to be so behind. I feel so dumb.

  4. Amna- I feel certain I have posted about the way I cook beans and greens before but maybe I'll do it again soon. I realize that not everyone has been here forever which is a very, very good thing.

    Elizabeth- Blogger ate the comments because it couldn't get the cornbread!

    Bethany- Nah, don't freak out. Glen and I have owned this property in Apalachicola for about fifteen-twenty years and have always planned to build on it and retire there. Well, he'll retire. He's figuring a couple more years before we start building so it's not going to happen tomorrow. And Apalachicola is very, very awesome. But I know- I can't even imagine it but I am trying to start trying.

  5. Phew! You are smart to help yourself think of it like you are 9and us too!)

  6. What? what happened, Elizabeth's blog is gone??

  7. It sounds serious about leaving Lloyd and that old house. It does have a soul, and I know that you feel that too. Hope that it will breathe gently for the next few years.

  8. That cornbread smelled heavenly...

    I can empathize with Mr. Moon's butt bruising. I got a bad one on my wedding day! (The first one) I spent my wedding night with a bag of snow on my ars watching Dances with Wolves... That should've been a sign! :-)


  9. Oh! Poor Mister Moon! I wish him a speedy recovery!

    And I love china. There will be photos, I hope!

  10. Well, hell. I left a comment and it is no longer here.

    I said something about my grandmother's china. She left it to me in her will. She was so proud of it. She grew up in terrible poverty and likely never dreamed of owning something so pretty. I am glad I have it.

  11. sometimes i think of you in lloyd with your chickens and your trees and your sweet white house as i listen to trains and sirens screaming by my window which now has double paned glass so it's like a distant sort of sound and i also look out at trees so it's not so bad, but still, but still.

  12. I will come down and get Elvis if he needs a home.

    I get you about moving, as I will be leaving my beloved house in three years; that is, if I can afford it for the next three years. It's too big and too expensive. (Not that it's big or too expensive--but too big for one person and too expensive for my income). I already dread it, but I'm moving every darned plant I have, even if they all have to be grown in a garage with UV lighting.

    Put up pictures of the china if you can. I am wild for patterned dishes.



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