Sunday, October 6, 2013


Same-same and there you go. The chickadees and cardinals mob the feeder, the chickens are scratching in the fallen, brittle pecan leaves. The other day when the boys were here, the sun was shining and there was a breeze and the leaves were falling from the crazy walnut tree which drops nuts as big as baseballs over by the neighbor's yard and it was like a performance of dancing, glinting magic. I couldn't take my eyes off of those falling leaves.
Owen was not as impressed.
Gibson was far too occupied by the chickens.
But I saw them.

We've had our pancakes (banana and sweet potato) and there are leftovers, which is good, because Owen likes pancakes, heated up with butter and maple syrup. The chickens like them cold, torn and tossed to the ground. Elvis makes his throaty sound and the hens come running.
Still no eggs. Not one egg since Trixie died.
It is a mystery and a sadness.

I don't know whether to go work in the garden or go lie down on the bed. I don't know whether I am sad or depressed or lazy or tired. The seeds I planted a few weeks ago are up, the romaine lettuce plants I bought and set in have been eaten, every one, by the squirrels. They have not touched the kale. Growing most fiercely are the volunteer green beans, up and vigorous, scattered all through the garden. I should dig them up and set them back in by the fence where they might have a chance of growing us some more beans if the first frost delays for a month or so. Yes. That is what I should do. Whether I do it or not is yet to be seen. I just don't seem to care that much. Grow where ye may, beans. Grow where ye fucking may.


  1. Sundays. They always have a sad quality for me, especially this time of year. I had planned to visit some nearby caves today and enjoy the fall colours, but it is pouring rain.

    I think the chickens are mourning Trixie and perhaps you are too. I think you should get a few new chicks to cheer everyone up. Either that, or find a cheap flight to Mexico.

    Find something that you can do today that gives you joy or at least some kind of joy-like sensation and then do it, no matter what it is. Then repeat as often as is possible. I think it is the only way to keep the sadness at bay, to stay in the here and now.

    For my part, I started a full-time job this week. First time in several years. The anxiety is nearly overwhelming and I spend a half hour upon awakening each morning talking myself into going. So far, I tell myself I will quit tomorrow and go to work today. Day by day, one day at a time. I just had to do something to make a change, so we will see how it goes.

  2. Yesterday was such a fuckeroo day for me. I even ate a sandwich which made me feel like death it's been so long since I've eaten wheat. Not to mention 40 pounds of cheese. I love following the lives of your chickens and wish you'd get a goat and write about it here so I could have a vicarious goat. Thank you for the postcard from a place I've wanted to see my entire life.

  3. I hear you. My first thought is that kale has become hipster so it gives me a sort of reactionary, perverse pleasure that animals won't touch it. There's something so scammish about people drinking its juice in hordes or making chips -- both of which I, myself, have done. These are my snarky Sunday thoughts.

    Monday is not far away, Ms. Moon.

    And I'm so saddened by the lack of eggs.

  4. For the doldrums I suggest a kitten.

  5. Actually, I'm with Hank. Also, that was me commenting first.


  6. There sure is something special about a leaf shower, isn't there. I managed to catch one on video. I think I'll post it. Have a sweet week, Ms. Moon.

  7. "Grow where ye may, beans. Grow where ye fucking may." Made me smile - and also made me glad I brought some of my dad's canned green beans back with me from NC last month :)

  8. Invisigal- OH MY GOD! I respect you so much for getting out in the world. I know how hard it is. Do it if you can and if it makes you feel better and if it doesn't- well. You CAN quit. But whichever, I am proud of you. Yes I am.

    Rebecca- I'm glad you got the postcard. Sorry, love, I will not be getting any goats. I am happy to go look at the ones next door. Shall I take more pictures of them?

    Elizabeth- Don't even ask me why I planted kale when we have such an abundance of collards here. So far, my experiences with kale have not made me happy.

    Mr. Downtown- I love that you used the word "doldrums." I love you. Can't you just bring my grandkitten out for me to play with?

    Nancy- It was a wonder and a beauty.

    The Bug- That's about how much I care today. Fucking green bean volunteers.

  9. My eyes are swimming with tears. This means so much to me. I will draw upon this tomorrow morning as I debate the usual debate. Thank you.

    But I must say this: it seems that if you take that leap of faith, the universe helps you, at least sometimes. When I walked into this office, the only other person there was a sweet woman from my town who lives just around the corner and immediately insisted on picking me up each morning, right out of the blue. So now I have nothing to debate in the mornings.


  10. Invisigal -"I will quit tomorrow, but go today" is going to be my new mantra. I Swear to all holy. That was genius.

    I second the idea of Hank bringing out the kitten, and also wholeheartedly endorse the idea of baby goats.

  11. I think over the next couple of days with the rain coming down, I will stay home and just work on a few projects here. There are days where I don't care much either. So I go about doing a few things in my quiet way, waiting for some kind of inspiration that may or may not come.

  12. Invisigal- Again I say, I am incredibly proud of what you're doing. I hope that whatever work it is is work that engages you and expands your life in a good way.

    SJ- Yes on Invisigal and Hank and NO ON THE BABY GOATS!!!!!

    Syd- Yep. I'm with you. Well, you know, in spirit.

  13. Not one egg since Trixie died??? Somehow I missed this. Grief for me is soooo physical. Maybe for chickens, too.

  14. Denise- Why not? Are they not thinking creatures? I am here to tell you that they are. They may not think the way we do, but they think. They feel. They fear.


Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.