It's Always The River That Saves Us

There is the salvation and restorer of our bodies and souls. Mr. Moon and I are just back from the river which we had almost to ourselves which was so lovely. We needed to go because we'd both worked outside today and I'm sure our core temperatures were alarmingly high. He mowed all day which is the amount of time it takes to mow this whole yard. It is a riding mower but when the temperature is in the 90's and the sun is blazing down, it's still just plain too hot. He didn't even stop for lunch which always annoys me because he'll swear he's not hungry and then an hour later wonders why he feels weird and his stomach hurts. 
That man. 

I wasn't outside nearly as long as he was. I did a very small amount of weeding, pulled up the pepper plants which are as done as dead, and spread the last two bags of mulch. The mulch in the bags Glen got last are grass clippings that a friend of his saved for him and they've been cooking in those thick bags so long that the mulch smells like horse shit which makes sense in that horse shit is probably mainly digested grass anyway. Not a horrible smell, but certainly what we might call pungent. 

I came in after that and ate my lunch and went back outside where I began weeding again in the horribly crocosmia and other weed-choked area beside the gate. While I was on my knees, sweating and digging and pulling and ripping, I had an epiphany and made a very practical decision. 
We, by which I mean Mr. Moon, are going to just weed-eat and mow that area and fuck trying to keep it clear and/or plant something else in it. We need to do some work there first including picking up all the bricks I've found and there's also some cement that I have no idea what the purpose for was originally. There are bushes that are going to have to be pulled out with the aid of a truck I imagine, so this is not a quick and painless solution but just the idea of it makes my heart feel lighter. Glen asked if mowing it would kill the crocosmia and weeds and I said, "Probably not for at least ten years but that's faster than I'm going to be able to get rid of them."

Now. If I can only get this project on his list as a priority and the odds of that are about zip, zippo, and not-gonna-happen. BUT I SWEAR TO YOU IT IS GOING TO HAPPEN EVENTUALLY! 
There is no reason on god's green earth for me to be investing my time and energy into this thankless, endless, hopeless job. If I can figure out how to get some palmettos growing in there without completely screwing up the mowing, I still want to do that. Why live in Florida if you don't have palmettos growing in your yard? 

Anyway, we both came into the house at the same time, filthy and so very overheated (and not in a good way) and agreed that to the river we must go. Glen ate some leftover salad, we both changed into our bathing suits, and off we went. We waded in as soon as we'd put our chairs in the shade, dove in entirely to get the entire baptismal healing of the cold, sacred waters, and then just stood there, waist deep, feeling life slow down until I swear I almost fell asleep standing up, or perhaps I was just in a deep mindless meditation. If so, it was a naturally induced one. The river is so different when it's almost empty of other people, when it's quiet and so clean, nothing nor no one having disturbed the sand or thrown hydrilla about. You can see right down to the tiniest minnows who like to nibble at feet. As I said to my husband, "We are so lucky to have this place near us." 
He agreed we are. 

We finally waded out and sat in our chairs for awhile under the shade of the cypress tree. 

There are always snowy egrets (or are they herons?) landing on the lily pads to fish, their descents and settlings as graceful as any ballerina ever could be. We know there are little gators in the lily pads too, but all of us respect our boundaries.

After a while I asked Glen if he wanted to get back in the water before we left and he said, "I feel pretty good already," and I said, "Me too," and so we picked up our chairs and water and towels and walked the few feet to the car. 

I swear, we were two entirely different people driving home than we were driving to the Wacissa. 

I think that's all I want to talk about tonight. I need to get supper going and we're having our martinis and the bed is all made up with clean sheets. I don't have it in me to talk about anything that's going to fill me with useless rage tonight. I'd really just rather not. I'd rather think of the egret (or was it a heron?) that I saw, it's pure white against the green and the blue, the way I felt in the water, like I was receiving the sweetest gift that earth can provide, the way my skin feels cool now, my heart feels at peace. 

For this moment, at least. 

And no, I did not answer comments today. That's just the way it's worked out. But I surely do thank you for all of them. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon