An Unexpected Adventure

I was in the midst of my Friday routine this morning, washing sheets and getting ready to hang them on the line and I thought I might shovel some horse shit and I did a little tour of the garden which I do every day. 
It must be done.
Not for the garden but for me. It's like going to the baby's room and kissing her good morning every day. And when you do this little garden tour every day you can see the progress made from the day before, whether it's seeds sprouting or sprouted seeds getting bigger or blossoms promising vegetables or new peppers appearing or new tomatoes appearing and/or the swelling of tomatoes.
I'm sure I've said this before (and hopefully not last week) that there have been times when I've gotten home after dark from being out of town for a few days when I've gone out to the garden with a flashlight because, well, as I said, it must be done. 
It is my joy. 

So anyway, I was just puttering along and Mr. Moon had fixed my clothesline so that the lines were tauter and the line that had come loose was refastened and he was talking about shoveling horse shit himself and then he said, "Hey. You want to go down to Just Fruits and get some fruit trees? We could stop and get lunch. I've been wanting some fried oysters."
Hmmm.
Did I? 
You know how strictly I try to stick to my routines and it was already past noon and of course I'd have to get the laundry off the line and make up the bed and then make supper. I mean. These things are important. 
To me. 
But after I mentioned all of this I said, "Okay. Let's do it."

So Glen cleared out the back of the 4-Runner so we could put plants in it since the truck has the composted horse manure in it, and I changed clothes. A little bit. A drive to Crawfordville with stops at a place for fried oysters and then a nursery does not require much in the way of wardrobe consideration. Men's cargo shorts were involved.

We didn't know where we wanted to eat. Mr. Moon had suggested one place but I could not bear the florescent light ambiance. So when we passed Ouzts Too on the Crawfordville Highway and saw folks eating outside I said, "I bet you could get some fried oysters at Ouzts." I didn't say Ouzts Too because I don't think of it like that. The original Ouzts was right on the St. Mark's river and flooded during a hurricane many years ago and so the rebuild a few hundred yards away was named Ouzts Too. 
Now Ouzts is a local landmark and has been in business for at least forty years and they cater to bikers and locals and whoever stops by. They have bands outside sometimes and I suppose it can get quite raucous but today it was low-key. There was one table of old gents who looked like they may well have been Viet Nam vets or at least have seen and done things that most of us probably can't imagine, and a table of folks who looked like they were slumming it, which of course we were too, in a way, and a huge table of what seemed to be an office celebration situation. 

I had to take a picture of two of the gents because they were just so emblematic of the sort of customers Ouzts gets. I didn't want to be obvious in taking this picture because that would be rude. So I told Glen that I was going to take his picture but mostly I wanted to get the old dudes behind him. 

They appeared to be drinking their lunch and I have a feeling this may be a daily custom. 

The smell of burning weed came and went during our time there. 
It's a laid-back sorta place. 

It took forever to get our food because of that large table of office mates. I mean- forever. I was ready to leave and go buy a bag of Cheetos at the nearest convenience store. But eventually lunch arrived and it looked so good.

Glen's fried shrimp and oyster basket with onion rings. 

My smoked mullet with potato salad. Which I feel sure came from the deli in the IGA down the road. 

I know that many of you have never had mullet, smoked or otherwise, but it is a delicacy and has sustained the lives of more people than any government ever has. 

This could be the official slogan of what used to be called "The Forgotten Coast" around here. 

Sadly, almost tragically, Glen's oysters and shrimp were way too salty and my mullet tasted of the freezer which is a sin comparable to...well. I can't think of anything that would deserve such disappointment and almost disgust. It didn't even taste smoked which is the very essence of the deliciousness of smoked mullet. There was not enough Tabasco or Crystal hot sauces in the whole restaurant to remedy the situation. 
I gave up and ate my IGA deli potato salad which was delicious and a pack of crackers and that was that. 

Still. We had a good time sitting out in the perfect weather, which it was. 

And then on we went to Just Fruits which is an extremely cool nursery that sells fruit trees suited to living in this area and also, a few exotic plants. 
Glen had a list of fruits he wanted to buy and we did buy some of them. He asked an employee to help us and she was quite helpful although I swear to god, she sounded like Minnie Mouse if Minnie Mouse was a kindergarten teacher. 
I managed to control myself and be kind. 
It was not easy. 
We ended up with a Satsuma tangerine, a Meyers lemon, two pineapple guavas, two different peaches whose names I cannot remember, and, oh, probably something else. Pears! We got pears too!  And fertilizer. For sure we got fertilizer. It was hard to stop there but I kept remembering what a responsibility it is to keep and nurture fruit trees and that's no joke. 
I loved the guys who helped us load the plants in the back of the 4-Runner. One of them was barefoot with long hair caught back with a hair tie, and the other had a few teeth missing and a tattoo of jigsaw pieces on his face and was wearing a Star of David necklace. And other things. 
We had a good chat with them about mulberry trees and cats and that was one of my favorite parts of our little adventure. 

We drove on home and Glen's unloaded our trees. 

He may or may not get started planting them tomorrow in the backyard where we took out the horrible Bradford pears. We are dreaming that it will be our little orchard, our little grove. He may not get that done because he is going up to the cabin tomorrow to look at the floor which the floor guy proclaims, "Looks great!" 

Ooh boy. 

I sure hope so. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon