Well, it's a real nice evening here in Lloyd. Not as hot as it has been. In fact, the last two days we've all remarked on the subtle change in the air. It's a promise of fall that only people who have been slowly roasting to death in ninety-seven degree temperatures with ninety-nine percent humidity can detect. But detect it we do and we're grateful for it and we discuss it among ourselves when we meet up on the road or in the post office.
"Almost 'fraid to say anything, but don't it feel a bit cooler?"
"Yep. You're right. I mean, it's still hot but it's not AS hot."
"And it'll get hotter again, but this is nice."
We nod at each other and go on separate ways having discussed something which, to us, is of grave importance.
And it is nice and I went out and pulled a few weeds from the garden from around the sweet potatoes. The garden has gone to HELL, I tell you.
The tomatoes are dried vines and the green beans are too. The squash is long gone and so are the big eggplants. I have a few of the small Italian ones still and some of the tiny, lethal peppers and the sweet potato vines but you can't pull them until after first frost. Or so I hear. I've never grown sweet potatoes before.
There are some volunteer marigolds and zinnias from last year but the zinnias are all a shade of dusky pink which doesn't do a thing for me and I grieve for all the beautiful blooms I might have had if the yard guy hadn't cut all my new plants down a month or so ago.
I mourn the reds and the yellows, the oranges and the greens. I mourn the whites. Well. Next year.But the weeds are easier to pull this time of year than the tiny hair-like ones we're so vigilant about in spring and I did sweat, pulling them, but it wasn't as bad as it would have been three nights ago and I sort of enjoyed it. The chickens came in the garden and scratched in the clean dirt I'd just cleared and I threw them a tomato hornworm and they pecked at it with great curiosity.
There is little in this world which brings me as much pleasure as watching my chickens in the dirt and the yard.
I've learned to make the same sound that Elvis makes when he finds a tasty treat and wants to call his hens. I feel as if I'd learned French or maybe even Chinese when I make the sound and the hens come running. I'm a simple woman. Let's face it. It's true.I stayed with Owen for a few hours today. When I got there, his mama said, "Thank god," and handed him over. "He's driving me crazy," she said. He was tired but fighting sleep which results in some pretty frantic behavior. I got down on the floor and played ball with him and he laughed like a hyena when I started bouncing it off the side of the couch. When his mama left to go to work he said, "Bye!" and waved his whole arm with great vigor.
He can say "Hi!" and "Bye!" now, as well as you or I can, and when Lily and I demonstrated throwing kisses, he looked at us with that calculating look in his eye and I know he is thinking, "I can do that. I just have to think about it for awhile."
And he will. He's a damn genius.
So Mr. Moon has a new toy. It's one of those ATV's.
I hate those motherfucking things but he bought it for a purpose and because he's Mr. Moon, he will probably end up making a few bucks off it when he's done with it. Everything he buys is an investment and dammit! He's right. It is. I don't think the man has ever lost money on anything he's bought, whereas everything I buy is NOT an investment unless you think of flax seed as an investment in our health.
Whatever.
He keeps calling it a "quad" and I finally said, "Quit calling it that! It makes me think of quadriplegic which is what you're going to be when it rolls on top of you."
"Okay," he says. "I'll call it an ATV."
Last night when we were going to bed I said, "You know, Ozzy Osbourne flipped his and was really hurt."
"Ozzy's a moron," said Mr. Moon.
I had to admit he's right although I do love Ozzy. It's strange- when he was the Prince of Darkness I couldn't have given one shit about him but after I watched him on that reality show I fell completely in love with his sweet, bumbling self. I watched the show faithfully and my kids laughed at me. I couldn't help it. I loved him. He may be a moron but he loves his family to distraction and his stupid, little dogs too.
Anyway, Mr. Moon is careful and he is not a moron and I trust his ATV driving abilities. Plus, he's a grown man and who am I to tell him he can't have an ATV? It's making him happy and I'm all about that.
Well, I think the chickens have gone to roost and so I need to go shut them up and cook some supper. It's been a good day. A good walk in a slightly cooler world, a visit with my grandson, a few weeds pulled, a chat with Kathleen on the phone, another chat with May on the phone, five good eggs from the hens, and I think maybe Hannah will get a few gifts from people she didn't even know cared about her.
The cicadas are humming so loudly I can't hear myself think and tomorrow Lily and I might take Owen to Wakulla Springs.
There will be pictures.
I'm really busy these days but I'm loving it. I'm good.
I hope you are too.
Love...Ms. Moon
