Tuesday, September 3, 2013

More Sky And More Ground, Too

There's a big huge hole in the sky where that tree used to be and the ground is torn up but smoothed over. When that tree fell, parts of it were so heavy that they submerged themselves into the earth as if they were trying to die and bury themselves in one heavy fell swoop.

Here are the men, leaving this afternoon, after they cut and piled and took away the hundreds-of-year-old part of the tree which had completely blocked the yard.

They were so merry, these men. After working all day in this heat, they were still grinning and joking and I sort of wanted to adopt all of them, bring them into the house for cookies and milk, perhaps. They seemed impossibly young, impossibly adept and able. Ethan, the main guy, shook my hand when they left. "Can we do anything else for you?" he kept saying.
I think those men could truly HAVE taken the wood from the tree and milled it and thrown together the outdoor pavilion of my dream. They seemed that sort.
He told us this morning that he's from just south of Asheville, that he has a wife and two children, one of them a little baby and he's trying to buy a house in Crawfordville, which is just down the road, and is moving them here.
"You get your wife and babies moved," I told him. "They need you."
He acknowledged this to be true and I hope they are all together soon. I can visualize his poor wife, possibly seething after his years of being gone overseas, and now this separation too as she struggles to take care of a five-year old, a newborn. I hope she is as kind as her husband. I hope they are happy when they are finally all truly under the same roof. I hope that Crawfordville suits them, treats them well.
Something about those boys, something about the Railroad Company, CSX, doing this job and doing it so well has made me feel a little better about the world. We're not all going to hell in a handbasket. Some people are doing their jobs and doing them cheerfully, and being polite and kind while they're at it.
"Nice to meet you," the fellows said as they took off to their truck which was parked down on the easeway of the tracks.

Yes, I thought. Yes it was.

I am cooking black-eyed peas for our supper tonight and I have gone crazy, hog-wild, and put two pieces of bacon cut-up into them. I went to the store today even though I went yesterday, to buy chocolate chips. I am going to make cookies for Mr. Moon to take with him gator hunting. This is as involved as I get in the process. I'm going to make him cookies with those chocolate chips and oatmeal and raisins and pecans and maybe some nights as they travel down the dark rivers, they can eat those cookies and be fortified. I don't know what else they'll eat for that week. Manly food most likely and I'll bet they get their eggs and grits and sausage when they come off the river in the mornings at the Mexican restaurant at the foot of the bridge over to Apalachicola where the people spill out, waiting for their American Breakfasts advertised on the sign.

I live in the south. People hunt gators here (and actually, the man who is hunting with Mr. Moon is from Canada and he flies all the way here to do it) and people are polite, generally, and people like pork with their beans and with their breakfasts. We live beneath and beside live oaks that are hundreds of years old and cypress trees that can live to be over a thousand, and maybe now I can plant some blueberries over there where the sun will be finding the ground for the first time in centuries.
I don't know. I will need to study the way the sun falls there now. I will have to ponder.

It's early evening and we've had our late afternoon shower and the water is dripping off the magnolias, the pecans. Even after all the rain we've had this summer, the ground takes it up, receives it with grace.

I feel lucky. In almost all ways, I do. Especially on an evening like this.
Yes. Lucky. With a little more sky and a grieved-for tree cut and hauled away, its grave-ground smoothed over and watered now by the rain.
That dirt is black. I bet it is rich as hell.
Me too. Rich as hell.

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. You have appreciation for hard labor and good people. You easily see the good in people. You are my hero today for posting such an uplifting, appreciative post. I adore you. Sweet Jo. PS. I suppose no sign of BB or you would have told us?

  2. That was really fast to see all that disappear. We are still working on the remaining very large cylinders of tree trunk. I believe that there are six remaining. The rest of the wood has been split and stacked. Many cords from the tree falling. Another one to take care of on the property eventually. Whew--never a dull moment.

  3. I know what you mean about meeting people who are doing the right thing, are polite, are good. It fortifies me too when I meet people like that or hear about them (like here on your blog!). It reminds me that we are all just plugging along in this life we've got and so many people are just plain old good. Not necessarily perfect or holy or any of that nonsence, but good. And that is all that should matter gee dee!

    And, I grieve for those old trees too.

  4. Well, maybe no on giving Ethan my number :)

    Glad you had a good day.

  5. Lovely post. Yes, sometimes people do give me hope too. I was listening on the radio today on my drive into the city, where I am now for an appointment early in the morning tomorrow, about how the more well off you are, the less compassionate you are. That poor communities are close and compassionate because everyone depends on everyone else. Once you become well off and no longer need a helping hand you stop lending one as well. While rich people do viva a lot to charity it comes to just over 2% of their income. Poor people give just over 4% of their income so while the dollar amount isn't as much, the percentage of their income is greater.

  6. The sound of that young man, working so hard. We are always asked what person, dead or alive would we like to spend an afternoon with and we all have our answers but really, everyday hardworking folk suit me just fine.

  7. Why are they called "live oaks". Are they different from regular oaks?

  8. I wish I could have hung out in your yard today and watched those men.

  9. I'm glad those guys got that tree out of there, and were so gracious while they did it. Happy baking!

  10. Lovely post.
    "Hog-wild" had me laughing, I'm gonna try and use that one today!shouldn't be too difficult x

  11. Here, American hunters (of geese, of bear, of moose) are an important "tourist" industry. Interesting to hear that some of "ours" go down there for alligators. I'd never have thought of it!

  12. Sweet Jo- It's so easy to be appreciative of certain people. They give you no reason not to be and every reason to be. I wish I were more like that.
    No, honey. No sign of B.B.

    Syd- These guys had big equipment including one of those giant things that picks up heavy stuff. Front end loader? I don't know. I mean, they were equipped.

    Jill- You're right- these are the things that matter. Deeds. And attitude.

    SJ- The other guys were cute as hell too. Sweet, sweet country boys.

    Ellen Abbott- The widow's mite. Some things never, ever change. Human nature, for one.

    Birdie- Me too. I really enjoyed talking to those guys. We discussed trees and chickens and hogs and growing grapes. What better?

    Allison- There are many varieties of oaks. The Live Oak is just one of them.

    Elizabeth- I felt shy to spy on them too much. I really wanted to though.

    Steve Reed- I'm about to start cookies here in a few minutes.

    Bugerlugs- Not an uncommon expression here. Trust me.

    Stubblejumpingal- Mr. Moon goes up to Canada to hunt with this guy. He is returning favor.


Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.