It could hardly have been a prettier day today. The sort of day that's so beautiful that with its perfection it brings a sense that nothing one does could possibly compete with what simply is, thus lending a sort of guilt-free desire to do little beyond enjoy that perfection. Although hanging the clothes on the line is such a pleasurable way to use the sunny breezes and drier air that it only adds to the enjoyment of the whole.
For me, at least.
Dancing prayer flags made of sheets and napkins, cotton shirts and tablecloths.
While I was hanging the sheets I noticed that Dearie was off her nest and was pecking at the grains of scratch left by the flock this morning so I went into the coop where the food is kept and she followed me. I set out a good portion of scratch for her and her alone and she ate almost frantically and I determined that I would watch her to see where she has her nest when she'd had her fill.
She knew I was doing that. And she did not like it. I've said it before and I wills say it again- these jungle fowls are wily and wise in their own ways. She tried to throw me off the trail and I did indeed lose her once in a small thicket of iron plant but then she reappeared and headed to the back yard and I swear to god- I took my eyes off her for one second and she literally disappeared.
Well. Obviously she is not a sorceress. Or a shape-shifter. She had to be somewhere. And there was only one place she could be hiding.
Sure enough. I tipped up that old pink tin washbasin and there she was, as still and flattened as one of those brown magnolia leaves. I wanted desperately to thoroughly investigate and see how many eggs she's sitting on but I did not want to spook her and softly covered her again and walked away. This does not seem to me to be the safest place for a hen to have a nest but she is the mama and I am not. I have no clue at all where Viv and/or Vera are sitting on eggs. They are making themselves extremely scarce.
So, tracking a hen to her nest seemed like another good way to enjoy the day and I did enjoy it.
I knew I needed to go to town to get a few things and I procrastinated and procrastinated but finally I got dressed in town-appropriate garb and went. It wasn't so bad. I got my errands run quick-quick and did not run into anyone I knew and came home. I put away groceries and took everything off the line and folded each piece as I set it into the hamper and even that chore was pleasurable. Mr. Moon came home early and that was nice too.
And so now my bed is made with clean sheets and I am going to make us a delicious supper which is halfway sinful (pork chops, homemade applesauce, sweet potatoes, artichokes) and I have taken a few pictures in the yard.
The sun going down through the azaleas. If you look closely after clicking, you may even see a bumble bee or two. I was thrilled to see them flying about, insinuating their fat bodies into the throats of the flowers and then flying off to buzz more of the purple beauties.
The wisteria starting to bud on the trellis in my back yard. And oh! Won't the bees love it when that all blooms? I will too. I know it's an invasive plant but there is not much in this world as gorgeous as hanging wisteria blossoms.
The tree that Hurricane Michael blew down and which is still in our back yard. On Monday morning a crew is coming to take it out, finally. Quite frankly, I've gotten used to it being there but I suppose that it really does need to go.
A cluster of Tung tree blossoms. These bring me pleasure every spring. They are so exquisitely shaded and delicate. The trees are supposedly deadly toxic in all of their parts- branches, leaves, flowers and nuts. And yet, I've never known man nor beast to die from their poison. Of course, that means nothing because I really don't know shit.
Another sun-setting picture. The oak tree in front of the sun has its fancy new green petticoats on although it's hard to tell from the photo. The witchy branches in the foreground are the Bradford pears which haven't begun to leaf yet.
And that's my news of the day. I'm sure you've all seen the real news of Trump signing Bibles at an Evangelical church in Alabama where he went to view the tornado damage. Melania signed a few as well. I don't even have words to describe how I feel about this. Do you laugh? Do you cry? Do you punch a hole in the wall?
No. Don't do that. You'll hurt yourself and have to pay to repair the damage.
All I can really say is that I suppose if you are the sort of person who accepts what those churches teach as the word of their god then you'll believe anything.
And vote for the devil thinking you're voting for your god.
The frogs are singing their love songs. I think I will work in the garden tomorrow.
Happy Friday, y'all.