I'm not feeling especially writey today. Which is odd. I always feel writey. Okay, I do sort of feel writey but almost everything I have to write about just sounds mean even though it's not really mean, just sort of observatory and sometimes that comes out sounding mean.
And it's too soft here right now to write mean. It would not be right, somehow.
Okay, I will tell you that the heirloom tomato sale turned out to be about the shortest amount of time I've ever spent with the craziest number of encounters in my entire life. I am not sure whether the growing of heirloom tomatoes is something that the, uh, strange-among-us is just attracted to or whether it was just my good fortune but there was some ADD activity going on there today.
Ten minutes and I'd encountered at least three women who were not right (as we say around here) and Mr. Moon had encountered one.
But we got our tomatoes and and then we went to breakfast and then we went to a nursery and then we came home and I planted the tomatoes and also some peppers and eggplants and more cucumbers and some beans.
That was lovely. Just absolutely lovely and I am not kidding you. This weather is perfect. Like I said, soft, and cool and yet warm, too. I slipped plants in the dirt and seeds into their little dirt-homes and I hoped for the best. Vegetables for the summer, growth and vitamins and tasty goodness. All of that.
Then I went to a little gathering of a cast party for that play whose name I have already forgotten and that was nice.
But now I'm home and that is really nice. I hugged Mr. Moon so hard and said, "Thank you for being the sort of man you are and letting me be the sort of woman I am." He said, "You're welcome," and I looked around at my funky house with all its funky stuff, the seeds and the baby quilt on the kitchen counter and magazines and just...stuff...and it is all somehow comforting to me. I'll finish the quilt tomorrow and plant the rest of my seeds. I got pinto beans to plant which is something I've never planted before and also lots of zinnias, including purple ones. Purple zinnias! I can't wait.
So Mr. Moon has gone out to turn off the sprinklers and I'm going to figure out what to make for our supper. Tomorrow at this time it will be seven o'clock, instead of six o'clock and that will be confusing but it'll be nice to have the extra daylight in the evening. Jason and Lily and Owen are coming out tomorrow and the men are going to wax the boat. The chickens are getting their last sips of water before they go to bed for the night.
See- nothing much to write about. Just...stuff. Funky, life stuff.
God, I'm grateful for it all, every funky drop of it, this dirt/blood/stuff life of mine.
I wish you could hear the bird I can hear, whistling a sliding tune of nightfall. I would give it to you if I could.
Ah-lah. Good night.