That's crepe myrtle shedding it's bark in long strips as it does. I took that picture on my way back from the post office. Walking there and back was about the most strenuous thing I've done today. I had a rare day of being extremely lazy and not feeling bad about it at all.
Mr. Moon is as busy as can be getting ready to go gator hunting on Tuesday for a week. Various parts of the house have become staging areas for the stuff he'll need as he packs.
This is the strangest thing I've come upon. I stood and pondered what in the world this sink with a Tito's bottle and a rope might signify and I just could not for the life of me figure it out. I finally asked him and he told me that he was soaking the rope in fabric softener to soften it up and the bottle was just there to hold it underwater.
He explained this to me as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
I suppose in his world it is.
He is so damn excited. Of course I don't get it all. He's going to be spending a week's worth of dark nights puttering down the rivers in Franklin County looking for gators and then sleeping most of the days. There are a thousand little branches off the rivers and every dang one of them looks the same to me and this seems like a thousand different ways to get lost in the deep mosquito, snake, and yes, alligator-filled swamps.
He always seems to find his way home though and I just need to have faith he will again.
I found no new eggs today, only Dottie's familiar one in a nest. I didn't work in the garden and I didn't do anything resembling housework. I laid on the bed and read New Yorker magazines and a book and then I got sleepy and I slept.
But around six Mr. Moon asked me if I wanted to go down to the river and I did. The Wacissa was higher today than I've seen it and as cold as ever. We jumped in and hung out for awhile, talking about this and that and dunked our whole bodies under a few more times to reinforce the sweet, sweet chill of it, all the way to our sweated out bones.
On the way home we marveled at how reborn we felt, our skin cool and soft.
When we pulled into the driveway my husband asked me, "Are you glad you married me?"
Hot tears sprang into my eyes and it took me a minute to find my voice.
"I am," I said.
And we got out of the car and came into this old house that holds us safe under the oak trees and I am, I am.