Friday, November 2, 2012

The Smallest Gifts Are The Most Precious

Mr. Moon discovered where Baby is laying her eggs when he was plundering around in the garage looking for something. Bless her heart- this is not a nest.

Nine perfect sweet ivory eggs and we brought six of them in the house and all six of them failed the float test, meaning they are past eating. Mr. Moon had made a nest in an old wooden crate in another part of the garage where some of the banties from next door used to lay their eggs and he brought that over and put the other three eggs in it and set it there for her to use. Who knows what goes on in chickens' minds? Baby, being a banty hen, is half wild and she spends her days with the rest of the flock but always stays a bit apart and does not go to roost with them. She's such a perfect little hen in all regards and it cheers me every morning when I go to let the rest of the chickens out and find her waiting for the corn I scatter.
If she is lonely in her semi-isolation, she does not show it.

I went to town and had lunch with Hank and Lily and Owen and Gibson and Jessie at a Mexican restaurant where we could eat outside under a huge lemon tree, so full of heavy fruit that there was a sign saying, "Beware of falling lemons!"

It was a good time and we passed Gibson around and we followed Owen around. I showed him a little display of Toltec heads and Mayan figurines and a tiny clay church and told him what each of the things were and said, "These represent the different people who have lived in Mexico," which of course he did not understand at all but he went along with it and said, "Nice!" He is very gracious in the way he humors me.

Both boys are still recovering from their colds, as you can see from the circles under Owen's eyes- honestly- he does not have a black eye, and he is still interested in telling everyone that he has a runny nose which is perhaps more apparent than he realizes.

After we ate, Lily and the boys and I went to Target where I bought a birthday present for our Waylon and Owen and I tried all the toys out, pushing their various buttons to make them rumble or roar or dance or sing. One toy played songs and Owen said, "Watch!" and he put his hand on his hip and proceeded to shake those hips which is how he dances now and it is a beautiful thing. We walked around Target pretending to be cats and I sang "Meow, meow, meow," in a tune and he said "Meow, meow, meow," in counterpoint and I loved that. I loved it so much I wanted to keep it in my mind forever.

I have decided that I am having one of my recurring exacerbations of the mono I almost died from as a teenager. That is what it feels like. I ache and my skin feels so sensitive and I could sleep eighteen hours a day and it's all accompanied by a gray veil of depression. It's odd in that I don't look sick and I am not really running a fever but it is as real as real can be and my eyes ache too and when I got home I laid down for a nap and slept so hard for an hour and then woke up and it took me a good long while to finally stir my limbs and get up, but I did.

And now Mr. Moon is here and Jessie and Vergil and I set out smoked salmon and goat cheese and capers and crackers and mustard and Mr. Moon made us martinis and I'm about to put sweet potatoes in the oven for our supper. Jessie is playing in town tonight but I am not going anywhere. I am here and here I will stay until it is time tomorrow night to go first to Kathleen's and then to the Opera House and the sun has set and the sky is a barely pastel pink and I can hear the chickens settling down to roost, another full day of scratching in the yard done for them and now that I have figured out what is wrong with me, I recognize this old companion of an illness, I feel more settled in my soul. I know that I must simply be patient and wait it out, and rest as much as possible, although that is the hardest thing to do.

Mind and body, they are one and Baby is now settled happily in her crate nest, her body more comfortable, I am sure, and her mind as well, I hope.

It has been a good day, albeit one with limitations but they have not been too overwhelming to prevent me from being with my children and my grandchildren, from enjoying some sweetness, some meowing and kissing and laughing and salmon and capers, the loosening of spirit which the martini provides. And my husband just brought me another cracker with salmon and gave me a tender hug and Jessie and Vergil are out in the yard somewhere as darkness falls, and I feel certain that they are sharing tenderness too.

It's okay. It's okay. It's okay.

I swear. It's all going to be okay.


  1. thinking of you tonight-hope you enjoy the opera house tomorrow. i wish we lived closer so we could see the performance-


  2. Hope you feel better, and thanks for sharing your wonderful day with us. I do love reading about the good times you have with your family. Hope the weekend goes great. Take care, Ms. Moon.

  3. That's so funny, about Baby and her "nest." Kind of sad, in a way, but also humorous. Too bad none of the eggs were edible, but now that you know where she's laying them, you can keep an eye on that spot!

    Maybe you're on to something with that mono recurrence. In any event, take care of yourself!

  4. I understand Baby. Sometimes I want to be left alone. Maybe she just needs time to think. Maybe.

    And Owen. What a kind and lovely boy. "Nice." So sweet.

    Glad the kids are feeling better. Just as they are getting over this cold a new one will hit no doubt. Or maybe that is just here in the Pacific Northwest where is NEVER stops raining.

  5. Mrs. A- I always enjoy the Opera House, whether onstage or in the audience.

    Mr. Shife- You're such a sweet guy.

    Steve- I hope that's what I have. Otherwise, I'm dying.

    Birdie- Since the boys aren't in daycare, they don't get so many colds. And Lord, we haven't had rain in weeks and weeks.

  6. I didn't know about the float test and eggs. Ha! thanks.

  7. Ha i sure love the scene with you and Owen meowing in Target. Such love bugs- your hip-shaking grand babies.

  8. Oh feel better you poor dear. That salmon app sounds perfect!


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