Life In Lloyd, Part Four Hundred And Fifty Six

Right before I get to the county line on some of my walks, there are two houses. One belongs to a guy I've talked to before and his house and yard are very tidy and neat, grass and bushes trimmed, kept-up nicely. But the house right before his, which is in a grove of the most beautiful oak trees you ever did see, is a house in a yard that I can't comprehend how they get so trashed out. That picture doesn't even begin to show the amount of debris scattered about. And it is SO scattered that I can't  fathom how they do that. Do they just walk about the yard and dump garbage and car parts and old furniture and old appliances and ice chests and buckets and building materials and...shit...in random places that seem to them to be good spots for whatever particular crap they are throwing away? Are they hoarders whose house is so full that the overflow just has to go in the yard? It is an amazement to me. The house is some sort of prefab thing (as is the tidy one next door to it) and it doesn't even appear to have a front door, just a piece of black plastic hung like a curtain where the door would be. How do people live like this? 
I know I am being Mrs. Judgy McJudgement here but it seems like it would be the most miserable of existences to be surrounded by this sort of chaos and junk. And yes, obviously poverty is an issue and I have no idea what sort of mental issues are involved. I am just bewildered. I know that for me, having at least a semblance of order creates a sense of peace. That's why I make my bed every day. When I walk through my bedroom, that made bed with its aligned pillows and unwrinkled quilt give me a sense of order. Of control,  probably. 
Candy has tidied my library and although I didn't realize it, the messiness there had become overwhelming. Every day now I see this sight through my kitchen door.

All she did was straighten the books and other things on the shelf but that sight gives me a true sense of wellness. 

She also cleared off and stacked up the books that were spilling over the table in front of the little couch in there. 

She asked me if she could shelve them and I told her that no, I wasn't ready for that. These were the books that my grandchildren loved the most but honestly- I needed someone else to help me deal with the fact that some of them may never be read out-loud again by me. And so she just stacked them neatly on a cedar chest in front of a window which reassures me that they are there, should the opportunity and desire arise in which to read them but they are ordered, they are neat. They are not a source of chaos. 
And I know that I am beyond privileged to have the ability to pay someone who is good at this sort of thing to help me. 

There's another house I see on my walk that I am pretty sure was, at one time, the home of a hoarder. Or a hoarder couple. It's a beautiful old house and no one has lived in it since I've been here but the people who owned it lived in a doublewide off to the side and back of it. Things spilled out onto the porch of the old house and it always made me so sad. The old man of the couple used to drive around in a car, itself packed with stuff and he would often stop and talk to me which I did not find especially pleasant. He died some time ago and I'm not sure if his widow is still alive or not. But recently, there has been a lot going on there. A huge trash container was set in the front yard and it became filled with...whatever was in the house, I guess. When I walked past the place today, I noticed that the yards of both the doublewide and the house have been cleared. Like- bush-hogged. It looks naked. 

That's one side of the side of the house. The lines of it still look straight and I am sure it could be restored. Perhaps this is what is going on. I have heard that the house was built by the town doctor back in the early part of the 1900's. He had a telephone and that was where everyone came to make calls or get messages because no one else had one. 

The yards needed attention and that's for sure. The doublewide, although it was probably less than three hundred feet from the road, was hidden in the jungle of it all. But whoever did it was indiscriminate in their clearing. There were several beautiful old camellias that are gone now.

Well, someone could make a nice home place there. 

It did rain last night. In fact, it began right after I wrote that it was not raining. It started out with just a pattering and although it never got very heavy, I think it rained most of the night. It was still raining when I got up and it's been overcast all day. I do feel better though and I am certain that the rain and a good sleep restored me. In fact, I slept so well that when I made my bed this morning, I discovered that my pillows which are right next to the window at the head of the bed, were wet on the edges. It could have been raining on me as far as I was aware.

I talked to Mr. Moon today. We had a good chat. He's having such a good time. Last night the fish he took up with him was cooked, some grilled, some fried, and all he had to do was prep it as two of the other men took over from there. He fed fourteen people with those fish! Sort of a loaves and fishes deal, if you ask me. Not all of the folks were part of his little hunting group. Some of them were guides and their children and I don't know who all. They've obviously developed a whole community up there. He said that the tartar sauce I made was a big hit. I'm glad of that. A few people asked him what ingredients were in it and he said, "I have no idea," which is the truth. He doesn't. Hell, I don't even know what all I put in that stuff. Well, that's sort of a lie. 

I did a little mending on the same pair of Mr. Moon's overalls that I've been working on for weeks. I just never take the time to sit down and do it. But today I did. 

Maurice, who has obviously been defending our property, came and sat on my lap which makes it hard to sew but I know that she needs some love. 
She only hurt me a little bit. 

I watched part of a movie (The Book Club: The Next Chapter) with Jane Fonda, Diane Keaton, Candace Bergen, and Mary Steenburgen in it. Among many others. Gosh but Mary Steenburgen is a beautiful woman. 
Anyway, it was not completely terrible but sort of ridiculous. I guess my internet kept going in and out because the images kept being pixelized in a rather horrifying way and it didn't even matter. I mean, it's right and good that woman in their seventies or whatever, are portrayed as still being sexual and beautiful and active and desirable and funny and smart and...oh, you know the drill. Of course the odds of finding four "regular" women of that age who are as gorgeous and slim and unwrinkled as the four women in the movie outside of Hollywood are about the same as finding a sleeping princess in the forest who only needs a kiss from a prince to restore her to life. 

Or something like that. 

Trust me- this picture has been photoshopped out the yang. 

And why does only one woman in this group have gray hair? 

Well. I guess that was my little soapbox speech for the day.

I have truly enjoyed today with its balance of physical activity and sloth. I may do the same tomorrow. 

Oh- here's something I did. 

Y'all- this is not all healthy and shit. What happened is that week before last when I decided to change up my breakfasts from cheese toast to cottage cheese and fresh fruit, I bought blueberries and black berries from the coldy room at Costco. Organic. So you know those things weren't cheap. And I ate them for a few days and then my inner four-year old put her foot down and said, "No." I mean- if there were some sort of sweetener on them like, oh, let's say- sugar, it would been okay. But I switched over to fresh pineapple and bananas which are also very much fruit but have their own sweetness. I may have become a tropical fruit only woman.
And there in the refrigerator sat those berries, sending out their guilt beams and today I just couldn't take it any more. Plus, those things weren't getting any fresher. 
So. Berry cobbler it was. 
Oh yes! Fresh berries are so healthy when you mix them with sugar and lemon juice and top them with flour, butter, sugar, and milk, and bake them in a 350 degree oven until done. I guess they're less deadly than brownies and must contain at least some fiber. 

This will never be not a struggle unless I get some sort of dread disease and just cannot eat. And honestly, like I've said, I don't really care that much about sweets so I'm sure that a lot of that cobbler will still be in the refrigerator when Mr. Moon gets home. 

Here's a screen shot of the information I am getting right now from my phone's Cornell Merlin app which is a bird ID app with the ability to identify birds from their songs and sounds. 

Lis told me about this and it is amazing. 

Wood ducks? Well, I do live on the back of a swamp. A few minutes ago the app also ID'ed a mockingbird and a blue jay. 

Is this not wonderful? I know the names of the singers of my sunset performers. 

What a world. 

Love...Ms. Moon