Blogoversary. No Cake, But There Are Chicken Pictures

Another hot, muggy day. I'd like to say that the weather is "sultry" but I think that "practically unbearable" would be more accurately descriptive. I tried to wait until the rain passed before taking my walk because the radar showed that it would and I mostly did but by then it had heated up considerably and, well, I kept my eyes to the ground on the uphill parts and just did not stop which was more of an exercise in will than of body. And yes, I got rained on. Which was fine.

Blah, blah, blah. The fact is, no one is holding a gun to my head, forcing me to do this.

So in the picture above, starting with that reddish bird in the lower left hand corner of the circle (haha!) we have Nicey, and moving clockwise you see either Vera or Viv, then Babette, Apricot, Dearie, Hawkeye, Vera or Viv, Dixie, and Pansy. The one up at the top there is Eggy Tina.
I think. I sent this picture to Mr. Moon.

"Name your eagle!" I texted him. 

He wrote back, "Big Daddy works unless it's a Big Momma." 

We are going to go with Big Momma for now. Or, Big Mama, as I would spell it. Isn't she pretty? 

For one more lagniappe chicken picture I give you this.

Eggy Tina perched on a collard stalk. 

Mick is truly and noticeably walking better and has been more active today. I am so glad. 

The little ones are soon going to be big enough to leave the coop and boy, do they want to! They rush the sliding door which I close before I let them out of their shelter in the morning, knowing somehow that this is the portal to the outside. Pansy is still so little that I'm a bit wary of letting them go out but it will happen before too long. It will be so interesting to see if any of them are roosters and claims them as his flock or if Mick will be the husband to them all. There is always a lot of social standing stuff to be worked out when new ones join an established flock. I seriously find it fascinating to watch personalities come out as every one finds their place in the whole. 

I am actually following a recipe for tonight's supper. A black bean soup from the New York Times. It is not your traditional black bean soup but it seemed intriguing and so we shall test that out. Once again, I love the comments made on the recipe site, one woman did not even pretend to mess with the recipe that the NYT's presented but who gave her own basic recipe with the assurance that this is the way to make black bean soup. I also used a recipe for Cuban bread which is rising but I've never been able to fully succeed with that one. Mine never has the right combination of crunchy crust and soft insides but who knows? Perhaps tonight will be the night. 

And so it goes, once again. Another day completely filled with the tiniest things, the many prosaic threads which, woven together, create the colorful tapestry which is my very own life. It is actually the eleventh anniversary of Blessourhearts and there is no way I can believe that. 

As always, THANKS HANK!

Google assures me that I have published 7, 541 posts and I don't doubt that. As I said the other day, I talk too much. 

Well, la-di-dah. 

I love this blog with all of my heart and I love every one of you who's ever come here and found something of worth. If there is such a thing as a room of one's own, I've found it here. 

And in doing so, I've found a community which nourishes, delights, amazes, astounds, comforts, and educates me. 

I have found heart-sisters and heart-brothers, too. In times of joy, my joy has been shared. In times of despair, I have found help. 

Pretty crazy. 

Pretty precious.

Pretty much a miracle. 

See you tomorrow. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Nature Is Out To Kill Us All

It's muggy and although it's not that hot, I'm sticky even after having taken a shower after my walk. It's raining intermittently, the sound of it comes and goes, one moment the sun shining brightly above all as if it had never rained, would never rain again and then as soon as you turn your head, it's gray again and the patter or flood continues. The frogs croak, birds are whistling for some reason near the back porch. Is there a baby in distress which the parents are talking about?
I hope not but nature guarantees nothing when it comes to the safety of a nest full of baby birds.
Mick appears a little stronger every day. He even crowed a bit this morning. I suppose that it's sensible natural instinct for a wounded rooster not to crow. He doesn't want to attract any sort of belligerent or threatening attention. Best to slip under the radar as best he can, simply following his girls around, calling them if he finds something tasty to eat. I cleared a few leftovers from the refrigerator today and split them up between the babies and the big birds which everyone seemed to appreciate but greens from the garden still seem to be the babies' favorite food. I picked them a kale plant today and they rushed to it with great fervor, standing on the stalk to get to the bug-eaten leaves and probably some of the bugs as well.
I don't know why but I simply love being able to give my chickens garden food almost as much as I love being able to serve it to my humans. It is a satisfaction. It is a thing I can do which just seems correct in all regards. When the greens are past our eating them, the chickens are so glad to take what is left. And as they eat these greens, they will grow faster and stronger and in a few months, will be laying us eggs.
If all goes well.
If there's one thing I've learned it's that not only is it unwise to count our chickens before they are hatched, it is also senseless to count our eggs until they are laid.
I am glad I have given them names. That is completely silly but still, I like being able to say, "Hello Pansy. How's it going, Dixie? Oh, Hawkeye, you are looking fetching today."
And so forth.
Of course no one but me ever remembers the names I give these chickens although Jessie may remember this flock's names, seeing as she literally has the sister flock.
Still. Humans like to name things whether with Latin names or common names or proper noun names. It is the way we are.

My walk this morning slayed me. The anti-chafing measures I took worked well so that was not the problem. I am going to blame it on the fact that it had been since last Wednesday that I had walked and also this humidity. I did go seven miles but had truly wanted to go eight. I had no real plans today except the usual housework stuff and going to Publix so time wasn't an issue.
For my mind, maybe.
It appeared to be for my body though which after about three miles was unhappy as could be but you know- when you're out there in the middle of nowhere there's not much to do except keep walking. You can't call a cab, as I have said so often.
And I felt beat down considerably after it was all over and honestly, still do. But I have kept going and done what needed to be done and even ironed a bit. The yellow flies are back and seem to be bigger this year than I've ever seen them. I got bit on my walk and also got bit several times when I was in the garden although I did take my time and slap the hellfire out of one of them on my leg, remembering what Kathleen taught me which is that they do not take off straight up when they are alarmed, but aim forwards as they try to escape and I killed that demon insect without doubt.
There was blood.
Motherfuckers. How I hate them. The bites hurt and itch and torment me. I am generally a very tolerant person when it comes to bugs whether they be spiders or caterpillars or beetles or even the little black sugar ants which get into everything I don't take the time to put away properly which means to put in the refrigerator.
But when it comes to mosquitoes and roaches and the yellow flies, I feel no mercy. It's me against them and although I know exactly who is going to win the game for planetary superiority, I still have to make my stand when it comes to my own personal house and body.
Florida.
Ah, Florida.
I always think of my grandparents and some of their friends who, for a few years, spent their winters in Roseland where the weather was so mild and sunny compared to what it was like in their homes on Lookout Mountain, Tennessee and who eventually sold those mountain homes and moved to Roseland full time.
Yes, of course they could enjoy picking their own citrus off their own trees and yes, they probably saved thousands in heating costs but my god, suddenly they were dealing with bugs and snakes and critters and jungle and unrelenting summer heat which must have been a most unpleasant shock.
But they traded their wool suits for seersucker and they kept hoes and machetes to kill the rattlesnakes and coral snakes with and they bought fans which oscillated and learned to eat tuna salad for supper rather than pot roast and they played canasta and tended their fruit trees and loved their birds at the feeder and watched the sun set over the river and they did not whine about any of it.

Well, I am not them but I honor them and their ability to adjust, to cope, to learn to drink warm sulfur water and to burn Pic Mosquito Repelling Coils and to welcome the truck which sprayed what must have been pure DDT but which solved the bug problem for a little while at least.

Time to go make supper.

Love...Ms. Moon

I Talk Too Much

Last night was so sweet. August was tired because he was too excited to take a nap yesterday and he sort of fought eating his supper a teeny tiny bit as he knew that was the first step in getting ready to go to bed for the night. But as soon as we sat him down in front of his plate he ate almost an entire sweet potato, a half an ear of corn, some green beans and some pork chop. He gobbled that food down!
Then it was bath time and he swam about the big tub for awhile and then I washed him up and dried him off and got him in his pajamas and his Boppy read him a book. "Corduroy" which is one of all of the children's favorites. I read three or four more books and then it was time to get in the bed and he was a little weepy but not much and he wanted water and he got water and then it was REALLY time to get in bed and I said, "Do you want to sleep with the monkey?"
I have a very old Zippy doll that I hardly let the children touch but I knew he was going to be asleep in moments so I offered it.
"I want two monkeys," he said. Zippy sits on the mantel in that room with a miniature sock monkey that Lily made for me long ago. I handed both of them to him and he laid down and let me cover him up and I said, "I'll be right here," and I laid down on the bed next to his bed and he was asleep within a cat's twitch of a whisker.

He slept all night long, not waking until a little after eight and I heard him call me and went to him and he said, "I awake now," and I said, "I see that." How did you sleep?"
"Pretty good," he said.
Of course.
He ran to find his Boppy who'd already gotten up and I went back to sleep for a little while.
When I got up I realized that overnight, August's hair had gone all Liberace. He had a curl on the top that would not stop and where these curls have suddenly come from, I do not know. We attribute Maggie's curls to her other grandmother who has gloriously curly hair but August's curls must simply be from god.

There was chicken feeding and pancakes, there was more TV and lots of playing. 

When his mama and brother and daddy showed up, he barely registered them. I think Levon was glad to see August, though. He crawled all over him. 

Vergil helped Mr. Moon with the bathroom project for a bit and so I got to hang out with Jessie and the boys. That Levon is such a beautiful goofy fellow with his two perfect teeth in his big baby smile. I can't help but reach out for him every time he gets within arm's length. 

When it came time to leave, August cried a few tears, holding on to his grandfather but would not deign to kiss or hug his Mer. 

Sigh. 

It was okay though because earlier when I had put his shoes on he said, "Mer is so sweet."

As with all of the grandchildren, he is his own person and whereas Magnolia can't get enough hugs and kisses, August needs very few. One must respect that and I do. 

I had a hard time sleeping last night and so I kept going through the baby chicks in my mind and I think I have named them all now. 

1. The Buff Orpington- Apricot

2. The Barred Rock- Babette

3. The smaller Americauna- Pansy

4. The larger Americauna- Eggy Tina

5. One of the black Vulture-looking Jungle Fowl- Viv

6. The other black Vulture-looking Jungle Fowl- Vera

7. One of the red/brown Jungle Fowl- Hawkeye

8. The other red/brown Jungle Fowl- Dearie

9. The Rhode Island Red- Nicey

10. The Dixie Rainbow- Dixie

11. The Wyandotte- Mr. Moon is going to name her. He likes her especially because she looks like an eagle.

So there you go for the Spring 2018 flock of chickens. I am thinking that Apricot may well be a rooster. As soon as I open the door for them in the morning, she/he flies out and begins pecking all of the other birds as they exit the little shelter. Not serious pecking but pecking nonetheless.

The pecking order is being established and if she turns out to be he I will give him a different name. A rock star name because that is how I do it. 

You know what? When I was a girl, the idea of living into the 2,000's was absolutely unfathomable. And if you'd told me that not only would I do that but that I would have the most fabulous husband in the world, four children and five grandchildren and CHICKENS, I never would have believed you. 

Nope. Would not have believed you. 

Whatever dreams I may have had (and they were few), they did not include those things. 

Well, there you go.

Life is not only what happens when you're busy making other plans, it is also what happens when you have no plans at all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Weekend Update

Well, there you go. Levon can pull up. All by himself. And Jessie reports that he just keeps doing it and it makes him so happy. If I ever saw a child determined to keep up with an older sibling, it is that child.
Well, besides Jessie.
She herself started walking at eight months and it was hysterical because she was about as big as a Barbie doll and people stared in wonder at the sight of such a miniature thing walking like a real human being. But, like Levon, she had places to go and people to keep up with. Her big sister Lily in particular.

So Levon's brother is here for the night. He arrived with his Boppy and came to find me. I was taking a nap. Unlike yesterday, I really was lazy today. Some days I can take the heat and today was not one of those days. I got out of bed and scooped that boy up and kissed him and put him down and he said, "First thing, TV!"
Mr. Moon had told me earlier today that he was just going to tell August that the TV was broken which is sort of true in that he accidentally cut the lines to the Direct TV the other day when he was trimming azaleas but of course we do have Netflix. "He's going to figure that out," I told Mr. Moon and by the time I'd washed my face and gotten myself together from my nap, they two guys were sitting in Mr. Moon's chair watching something animated about the frontier and horses and a train and a little girl and so forth. I took a picture and Mr. Moon said, "Don't send that to his mama," but I did, of course.
She doesn't care. She texted me that about an hour before Boppy showed up, August had his giraffe backpack on his back and said, "I'm just going to sit here on the floor until Boppy comes."
This reminds me of when Owen was a little fellow and he used to pull the tall stool up to the kitchen door and sit on it and wait until he saw his grandfather drive into the yard.
These kids love their Boppy so much and they should. He is the sort of man that a child can look up to in all ways and they intuit that as well as knowing how much he loves them which is immensely. I can't imagine a child feeling any safer than in his company.

Watching TV can make a man peckish so I made some delicious popcorn for the Big and Little Boppies. Boppys? Whatever.

But then August spied a peppermint in the egg bowl and wanted that and so, because we are the grandparents, we let him have it and he licked it like a cat and Mr. Washcloth had to come and get all of the peppermint stickiness off his hands. Mr. Washcloth is very fond of peppermint. 

The alphabet puzzle was put together.

I wish I had a dollar for every time I've helped a little person put that thing together. 

Mick is doing all right today. He seems to be hobbling with a little less effort. Still no resolution on the dog situation. His rear end makes me so sad, though. And one of his feet seems to be a bit wonky although he can put weight on it. We'll coat his butt with the magic ointment again tonight. 

I did not get up to watch the royal wedding but every bit of it that I've seen online makes me happy if for no other reason than the fact that when Harry and Meghan look at each other they sure do seem to mean it. It would appear that Harry (how I love that name) adores her and if she doesn't adore him then she truly is one of the best actors in the world. 

And just...DAMN on how beautiful it was to see her mother sitting in that ancient chapel, trying to hold herself together and can you even imagine what was going through her mind?   

I can't. 

I better go get supper started. August didn't get a nap and I know he's going to need to get to bed at a reasonable hour. I asked him if he wanted to sleep in the big bed instead of the Pack-n-Play (not the same one that I raised the baby chicks in-don't worry) and he said, "No. I don't like a big bed."

Well, you don't put a tiny sproutling in a giant pot and he can sleep where he wants to. 

May we ALL sleep well tonight. 

Love...Ms. Moon

The Tour Of Coop And Garden

Went out this morning, a little afraid of what I'd find in the chicken coop. Last night Mr. Moon held Mick and I swabbed him good with the goop I'd made of comfrey ointment, antibiotic cream, and golden seal. He did not fight us or struggle and we set him gently up in the roost. He had not been able to fly up on his own. His ladies were agitated. They know when something is very wrong. Death upsets them. Injuries do too. And of course, they had been threatened.
But this morning I found him in the coop, walking very, very slowly but eating and moving about a little bit. I thought I'd just let him hang out in the coop all day with the babies but when his hens started clucking for him, he wanted to join them and so I let him. It would be harder on him, I think, to know that his girls were untended than it was to let him roam with them the best he could.

And I've stayed here all day, keeping an eye on things. I sat on the porch this morning with the rain falling down and watched a few videos of the Stones' concert in Dublin yesterday. Ah, the old boys. I seriously do not think they will quit until one of them falls dead onstage and if it's Keith, I bet he'll have a smile on his face.
Of course that won't happen for another forty years or so.
Mick's face is ravaged, as all of their faces are except for Charlie Watts who rarely changes expression and who has lived a tamer life than the rest, I believe, but Mick has the body of a fourteen year old. That little tushy is a thing of wonder and his ability to still dance and strut and sing and run and skip is truly unbelievable. I mean, he's a great grandfather. He'll be 75 in July.
So that was a pleasant morning and I determined that I would be consciously lazy today but then it quit raining and something clicked inside of me and I started laundry and hung out sheets and then got in the garden and harvested carrots and did some weeding.

I brought all of the carrots in and scrubbed them gently. Can you see the boy carrot there? 

It was hot and it was steamy but I got back outside and pulled the shallots and the onions and oh, god. I have so many shallots. 

What am I going to do with all of those shallots? 

I have no idea. But there they are, resting on the porch to dry and cure along with some onions. 

And then I went BACK out and picked green beans and a few of the last remaining sugar snap peas. 

Maurice is unimpressed, as always. 

And that's been my day, this day which has seen yet another tragedy involving school children and guns. 

You know what? "Tragedy" does not begin to be the right word for these horrific occurrences. And to be honest with you, I feel completely hopeless. 

To the point where I have nothing to say. 

My words are as useless as hopes and prayers. 

And so I'm going to cook some grouper tonight and some of the vegetables I pulled from the earth today and I'm going to put that salve on my rooster's butt tonight and make sure that all of the chickens are as safe as they can be. I am going to sleep on my clean sheets with my husband and tomorrow night August is going to stay with us. 

What else can I do? 

I'd say Happy Friday but, hey. You know. 

Peace, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Just...Hell.

Y'all, I'm just too pissed and sad tonight to write much.
The dog who killed a bunch of my chickens last year got out of his yard again today and although he did not kill any of my hens, Mick is torn up. He's lost all of his tail feathers and his back end is bloody. He valiantly defended his ladies and we'll treat him tonight with golden seal and Neosporin and hope for the best.

Fuck.

Ay-Yi-Yi!

Well, y'all, I have injured myself walking.
It's not my joints.
It's not a knee.
It's not my feet and I didn't fall down and break anything.
Nope.
I have chafed my thighs to the point where even walking from the kitchen to the porch feels like someone is taking a hot-roasted cheese grater to my thighs.
Oh Lord. It's funny/not funny.
And the thing is, I don't really have huge thighs. They are relatively thin but where my cotton Jockey big girl panties end, I am damaged.
I was having a great walk this morning. I took a road that I don't usually take for more than half a mile because it isn't shaded after that but today it was so overcast that I just kept on going, shade not being an issue. It was a beautiful walk and I was feeling strong and ready to cover another seven miles and I saw these great cracker cows.

Or bulls, or longhorns, or something. 

They were unperturbed by me and if I had those horns, I would be pretty unperturbed too. I like this shot because it shows both the spread and the way they curve backwards. 

And I was walking and I was groovin' and checking out the sights and then it started raining a little and I turned around and by the time I'd walked five miles my thighs were in serious trouble. I swear, I thought blood was going to start running down my legs. 

It did not but I didn't quite get my seven miles in although I swear, I easily could have if there had not been that fire down below.

I almost wanted to hail the mailman who travels about in his little Suburu whom I have become big waving buddies with as we cross paths over and over almost every morning for a ride to my car but I do have my pride, although it would not appear so, having written about it all here. 

Plus, he probably isn't legally allowed to do anything like that. 

I did get back to my car and I was going to stay home today but discovered that Mr. Moon and a carpenter buddy of his were going to be here all afternoon working on the bathroom and so I decided to meet Jessie in town to go to Costco but of course first we had to get lunch. It was pouring rain when we were done so I ended up sitting in the Jessie's car while she ran in to Costco and got the things she needed because Levon was asleep and it was just a lot more sensible for me to hang out with the boys than to try to get everyone into the store. August and I read some books and it was quite peaceful, sitting there with him and his brother and all I really needed was some honey and Jessie got me some. 

Lily was going to join us but Jason had rescued a tiny kitten in the Walmart parking lot who was about to get run over and so she needed to help tend the little critter. 

Such a wee little thing. 

Of course it was covered in fleas and probably has worms and has goopy eyes but what can you do? Jason is so tenderhearted and could not bear the thought of the little cat getting run over and there you go. It was the right thing to do. 

They washed him/her and gave him/her some wet cat food and commercial cat milk (did you know that was a thing?) and I'm sure it's getting all the love in the world right now. 

And I googled "how to prevent chafing while running" because although I am not running, I am walking at a good clip and the idea is the same, I would suppose. "Runner's World" told me to ditch the cotton because it doesn't wick moisture and so on and so forth and I went to Sports Academy and bought some non-cotton, supposedly non-chafing shorts which are more like underwear and which I will be using like underwear under my cargo shorts because I ain't giving those up. I need pockets, people! I carry my keys, my phone, some gum, my sweat rag- you know- stuff. Plus, if you think I'd go out onto a public road wearing nothing but that garment on my lower body you have lost your mind.  I also bought a product called Body Glide and oh, boy am I excited about using that! 

Yes. Yes I am. 

But that will not be tomorrow. I have to let the wounds heal. 

And that's been my exciting day. 

It has been reported that Levon can now officially crawl. I asked August about this. I said, "So, can Levon crawl now?"

And he said, "Yes, and he can walk."

"Really?" I asked. "Your brother can walk?"

"Yes," he said again in the most sober and sincere way. 

"Well, that's cool," I said. And before we can all wink and nod, it will be the truth. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Not Necessarily In This Order

August was going to get his hair cut and then he wasn't going to get his hair cut and then he did get his hair cut. It was absolutely no big deal- he could if he wanted to but no one would be upset in the least if he didn't. His mama and daddy have given him a few trims and he's always been cool with that but he just wasn't sure about Melissa.
Until of course, he got to really know her a little better at which point she could have given him a tattoo and he probably would have let her. That's just the way she is.
Jessie got her hair cut and I didn't even get one picture! What's wrong with me? I have Grandmother Disease, I guess.

This was when August's mama asked him to smile. 

It's like all of a sudden, the kid has curls. And yes, it's humid as hell but it's been humid before. Anyway, he's a handsome little dude and he was quite pleased with his haircut. And with the whole experience, actually. Melissa patiently showed him how the clippers worked and the blow dryer and let him try them out too. This was right up his alley, as were the dinosaurs she keeps for kids to play with. And the monkey. And the silver rat. She's our kind of people. Actually, she IS our people. 

Levon played happily on the floor most of the time and I don't think he got too much hair on him. He's cutting new teeth and you almost need a mop to follow him around with. Poor little guy. He's hanging in there, though. 

Jessie's new chicken coop is just a beautiful thing. It smells so good of fresh pine shavings and freshly cut lumber, and those baby chicks are happy as can be over there. I think Jessie's in heaven. The chick retrieval went very smoothly last night and August helped by holding a flashlight. She's going to name them in alphabetical order with food names. As in, one is already named Apple. Get back, Gwyneth Paltrow! She's going to name one Miss Eggy-Geena after our original Miss Eggy-Tina and I am thinking that I might name our bald-eagle-looking Wyandotte Eggy Tina II because that name is just too good to let go. 

I hate the phrase, "It's all good," but in this case, with this sweet chick and coop situation, it is. 

It is all very, very good. Those chicks won the lottery.

We did get rain last night and this morning and I went out in the drizzle and walked two miles which is nothing but I just had to at least feel as if I'd tried. I put my phone in a baggie and I got soaked but I don't know which I got wet with worst- the rain or my sweat. Sweating in the rain just ain't right. 

Oh well. I'm crazy. We are all aware of that. 

I was saddened to hear of Tom Wolfe's passing. He was one of a kind and had a huge influence on American writing, both in the journalistic and fictional sense. I didn't love all of his books but I sure did love some of them. And what a beautiful sartorial sense of fashion he had! 

In other news, Keith Richards is saying that America has got to get rid of Donald Trump. 

Yes. Yes Keith, you are right. Now how do we accomplish that? If you'd taken care of business in 1989 with your trusty blade, we wouldn't be having this problem but you'd be in jail and that just isn't an option. 

This whole thing with Melania undergoing surgery for a benign kidney issue is weird. I mean, it's quite possible this is true but has it occurred to you that she's faking a medical issue and a hospital stay so that she can just drop out of sight and go into hiding somewhere so she doesn't have to deal with her husband? 

Yeah, probably not. 

I hope she's okay. I mean, I don't really feel sorry for the woman. She chose to marry that shithead but still, she's a human being. 

And one more thing- I really want to read Michael Pollen's new book. 

Which somehow relates to Tom Wolfe's Electric Kool Aid Acid Test. I know it does because every time I ever expanded my mind with psychedelics, it became absolutely clear to me that ALL IS ONE. 

How richly ironic it will be when it is common knowledge that cannabis and psilocybin, along with other psychotropic substances, are keys to unlocking the secrets of the mind AND the brain and can be powerful medicines.

We hippies knew a thing or two because we'd experienced a thing or two. Just ask Tom Wolfe. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Full Of Beans

I've got my first pot of pole beans for the year coming to a simmer on the stove and I'm excited. I've never grown the Roma beans but Vergil's mama recommended them to me and she is one hell of a gardener. I picked a pretty good amount of them last night and today I picked another batch that was bigger than the first. Jessie and Vergil and the boys are coming out for supper and to collect the chicks which should be an interesting experience. We're going to have to wait until the sun goes down so they'll be in their sleep state but I'm here to tell you that chickens can come out of that state in a New York second if they're disturbed. But we shall do our best and tomorrow won't those chicks be surprised to wake up in a brand new coop?
Bless their hearts.
I'm excited because I'll finally be able to name mine. We've not been quite sure which birds Jessie was going to take so I have postponed the naming situation except for Nicey and the jungle fowl. Those four are going to be Hawkeye, Dearie, and two V- names because the black ones look just like vultures.
Maybe Vera and Vivian?

It is raining gently and it's cooled off and it's lovely here tonight. My walk this morning was pure torture because the humidity was terrible even though it wasn't as hot as it has been. I kept thinking, "Jesus, it IS the humidity and not the heat!" It was almost raining, every now and then a few drops would mist down upon me, and I swear the air was as filled with water as it could possibly be. The uphill part of Farm's Road about did me in but I got in my miles despite it all and lived to not only tell the tale but go out and weed a bit in the garden.
And then I took a nap.

Levon had his six-months check-up today. He is doing very well. He's not quite as long and a little bit heavier than August was at six months but as we all know, he is perfect. And I am sure that his folder at the doctor's office has BRILLIANT CHILD written on the front, just as all of my grandchildren's medical folders do.

It sure is fun to see this baby-est baby growing and learning and showing us who he is. It's just magical every time with every kid and it's so crazy how fast it happens. Owen was this age about two weeks ago and yet, somehow, some way, he's now got such definite ideas about his own personal style and he acts sort of teenagery sometimes and he's falling in love with reading and he comes up to my chin and here comes Gibson who is like no other person on earth and, and, and...

Jessie showed me a video she'd taken of August and Levon the other day and I asked her to send it to me, which she did. The backstory is that August, who was lounging about in a car seat like a grown man with a beer belly in his La-Z-Boy recliner after work, had been encouraging Levon to crawl. When Jessie got out the phone to shoot a little of this brotherly love, he quit of course, so Jessie had to prompt him and it cracks me up, watching August's laissez-faire attitude about re-encouraging Levon and also, his absolute man behavior as he kicks back, crosses and uncrosses his legs, eats his snack and then gives forth a good, masculine burp. 

Where did he learn this? Vergil has no La-Z-Boy. Perhaps August is modeling his Boppy. Who knows? Not me.

Love...Ms. Moon

Yumminess In All Regards

Hank holding a baby and the baby likes it. As usual. Levon got passed around today like the prettiest gal at a square dance. And let me just say that I'm sure he got at least a week's quota of kisses and he gave back at least a week's quota of smiles and raspberries and chuckles.

Oh, the baby love around here! It is fierce!

So Mother's Day Sandwich party was a lot of fun. For some reason I had envisioned a sort of Southern Ladies sandwich party. Like, you know- pimento cheese sandwiches, chicken salad sandwiches, shrimp salad sandwiches, maybe some cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches. Capers would have been involved.

But no, that is not what happened because of course no one can read my mind and I forgot to mention any of that and so Mr. Moon smoked a chicken and a hunk o' pork and sliced them all up and we had those and cheese and tomatoes and peppers and yes, there were cucumbers. Mayonnaise AND Miracle Whip and various and assorted mustards and a horseradish dressing and chips and pickles and crackers and trout dip. 

Yes. Trout dip. Smoked trout dip. And it was delicious. 

Baked beans, cole slaw and potato salad. 

I think I've lost my touch with potato salad. It was so bland. What's wrong with me? I think I'm not putting enough mayonnaise in it. And not enough pickles. And salt. Not enough salt. So that was a huge disappointment. 

I got so many flowers! Owen and Gibson and Maggie and May all brought me bouquets. My hallway looks like this:

May got me the funniest card.

It made me laugh. 

They would not all die and as May indicated, they are all aware of the fact that there may come a day when I just never do come back from Mexico. 

Ah. Probably not going to happen. 

Mr. Moon got me a kiddy pool and we have already gotten our money's worth out of it this afternoon. Lord, but those children had a good time in it. 

Mr. Moon had put a plastic tarp under it which the boys discovered made an excellent slip-n-slide and Owen penguined all over it on his belly and did the wet-boy-in-his-underwear dance and so did Gibson and we all cracked up. Maggie stayed in so long that her lips turned purple and we still had to force her to get out. There was watermelon which May brought and it was delicious and the chickens and chicks enjoyed the leavings. Even Levon got to test out his teeth on the sweet cold deliciousness. 

And that was our Mother's Day and it was just about perfect. Easy and no pressure, loving and sweet. A lot of kisses, a lot of hugs, a lot of laughing, a little naked baby pool play and watermelon eating (August asked Boppy for a huge, huge piece) and one grateful old MerMer who recognizes and respects and is in awe of the mothers that her own daughters have turned out to be. 

And damn. My children just make me feel so loved. I can't even explain how that feels to someone who was never able to truly feel her own mother's love. It's a sort of miracle. 

The weather widget says we're supposed to get rain for the next eight days in a row. I wonder if this could possibly be true. Remind me not to bitch if it is. 

Love...Ms. Moon

I Must Be Feeling Very Deep South Tonight

I just love watching the chicks belly up to the collard bar when I bring in a done-for plant. They love those things. They're getting bigger but their growth curve has slowed a bit, as it does at this stage. Still, they are outgrowing their night-time sleeping coop and I don't have the energy right now to try and get them to move over to the other shelter available for them which will require not only shutting their current roosting area but also figuring out how to entice them into the new one. Chickens are creatures of habit without doubt. I have a feeling that if I closed that small coop and put food and water in the other box, I'd go out at dark to find them all huddled around their accustomed bed place, completely mystified as to why they could not gain access.

The plan was for Jessie and Vergil's coop to be done enough by tomorrow to move her batch over but I just got a text from her saying that this would probably not be case which is fine. I'm not anxious about it. They'll move when all is ready and no big deal. Mr. Moon's been over there most of the day helping and I know that Jessie's been helping too. She's so appreciative of the guys' efforts. She says that she first started really looking upon Vergil with eyes of love when he showed her the chicken coop he'd built for his grandma and I think that's a very wise criteria for a future mate.
Not only the ability to build something but also, the willingness to build something for a grandparent.
And as we all know, Vergil has proven to be true in both the carpentry and caring regards and she will get her little flock soon. She is going to enjoy keeping chickens so much and I can just feel Kathleen beaming at what she started.

This morning when I got up, the children were already texting each other and Mr. Moon about the plan for Mother's Day. This was stressful for us all. I know how it feels to want to show someone that you love and appreciate them but there are so many factors involved. Since so many of us have worked in the service industry, we know what Mother's Day is like for restaurants and we would all like to avoid that but no one really wants to cook for a group of the size of our family.

I finally suggested that everyone just come on out and bring stuff to make sandwiches and that I would make iced tea and potato salad and that is what is going to happen. Which is sort of exciting! How southern!
So I went to the store to buy potatoes and other stuff and came home and made potato salad and also cole slaw and somehow I have kept myself busy and occupied all day long.
I have had to restrain myself from starting S-Town again from the beginning but have listened to the first episode of the Serial podcast which was fine but I'm afraid that the bar set on S-Town was way too high and I'm not sure I'll ever listen to anything as fine as that again. And yesterday, I totally forgot to give credit to Brian Reed who was the host and producer, and all of the others on the crew who helped shape and put that podcast together. It is a simply amazing example of what true hard work, dedication, insane mad talent and skill, not to mention what can only be love, can do.

It got hotter than hell today. Up into the nineties and here we are- summer has finally arrived in all of its burning implications. My green beans will start being ready to pick by tomorrow I figure, and we may get some rain tomorrow or Monday or Tuesday. We got a few drops today and I mean that literally- a few drops. My clothes were on the line and I gathered them up and stuck them in the dryer for about ten minutes and they probably didn't even need it. This is the sort of weather where you can wait until three o'clock in the afternoon to hang even your towels and jeans and they'll still get dry before the sun goes down and if a little rain hits them, it'll steam right out. As I was unpinning the clothes and throwing them in the laundry basket I started thinking about global warming and how a lot of people are going to be real surprised when their normally temperate temperatures start creeping up into the hundreds and above, especially if there's no air-conditioning.
It ain't gonna be pretty and in fact, is going to be very sweaty and very miserable and human production is going to go way down.
But hey! Let's not worry about that right now, okay?
I got AC and I got ice from the freezer in my vodka tonic and I got potato salad chillin' in the Fridge. I got internet and a TV that can hook up to the WiFi and I got sprinklers that can water my green beans when the rain doesn't come.
Lord help us all.

What are you doing for Mother's Day? I'd love to know.

Yours Truly...Ms. Moon

What A Rich And Strange World We Live In

That's me in someone's mirror across from the their driveway. I got out too damn late today and it was hot and I did not cover seven miles but I did go five and some and that was plenty for me.
It was beautiful out but by the time I got back to my car, I was done and then some.
Still, I walked five days this week and my distance was a little over 28 miles for those five days.
And I saw these, among other things.

Fleabane. Perhaps prairie fleabane.

Red coral. 

I know I've posted this flower before and probably the fleabane as well but they are just so pretty. 

A long time ago, Jessie and Vergil told me I should listen to a podcast called S-Town and I duly made a note of it and even subscribed to it at some point but had never listened to a minute of it until yesterday when the book I was listening to ran out before my miles did. I thumbed my phone and found S-Town and hit the little triangle for play and, as these things sometimes happen, I will never quite be the same again. I got through a good many episodes yesterday and finished listening to it today and immediately started googling it, lapping up the pictures of the folks who'd been interviewed in it as well as any more information available about the story because people, this piece of radio reporting about a man in Alabama named John B. McLemore and the small town he lived in was art and it was beautiful and profane and painful and horrible and wonderful and filled with angels and demons and clocks and time and climate change and tattoos and lust and love and ignorance and madness and genius all at once, all bound together in a way that felt like the maze John B. created with rose bushes and gates where one minute I thought, okay, all is revealed, uh-huh, and the next minute like, whoa, how in hell do I get from here to the truth of it all, the center, the heart, the meaning, the way out?

And I have no idea. I doubt there is one. 

But I know I'll never in my life forget that town and mostly, I'll never forget John B. McLemore, and I have no doubt I'll listen to it again. And maybe again. 

And then again. 

So I guess what I'm saying here is, please listen to this podcast if you have not. 

And if you have- tell me what you think about it, please. 

As I wrote to a dear friend, "It blew me away," and although that may be a hippiefied hackneyed phrase, I could not come up with a better description unless I'd said, "It blew my mind," and well, yes, that too. 

I fixed two overall straps today. I gave the chickens fresh water. I washed the sheets and dried them on the line and made up the bed. I tried to take a nap but my left leg would not let me. 

I pulled a giant spent collard plant from the garden with lots of tasty bugs on it and gave most of it to the chicks and they flocked around it and ate as if they'd never seen greens before. 

I'm about to go make a venison meatloaf. It is still hot and the cicadas' chant is rising and falling and the air conditioning rattles and chugs in a rhythmic mechanical breath. I hate the sound but god, I love the cool. 

Tomorrow we might go to the river. I am way overdue for a baptism. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

And I Also Fed Chopped Frozen Grapes To The Chicks Which They Loved

I am constantly stunned by the beauty and serenity of White House Road. I do love Farms Road except for that damn uphill climb as I return on it but White House Road is just, well, stunning. The trees, the moss, the shadows, the patches of sun, the birds...it has truly changed my life. I look forward to my walks now in a way I never have. Six more miles today and if I managed seven tomorrow, I would have thirty for the week.
Which I probably will not do. That seems a bit extreme. Not the seven miles. I know I can do it. It's just that one wonders where this will end? Will I find myself walking four hours a day?
I doubt it.
I do definitely feel stronger and I am not as exhausted from my walks as I was. And I have to say that the plump little partridge's extremely fat clothes are a bit looser. I do not weigh myself after being obsessed with the scale for most of my life but I can tell that I feel a little easier in the world. I have also started using a heating pad at night when I get into bed and it offers comfort and allows me to relax into sleep. I don't use it for very long and frankly, I am a bit wary of using heat on what is obviously inflammation but it really does help and so at this point, I am going with it.
I am also taking Turmeric and CBD so I'm covering the bases, as it were, and during the day I am in no more pain than I have been for the last twenty years or so.

After my walk this morning, I ate my lunch and went over to Lily's where I spent some time with Magnolia June. I know I'm her grandmother. I know she is my only granddaughter. I know that I have to and of course am required to think she is adorable but I swear- she may be the cutest child in the world. When I got to the house Lily was getting ready for work and Maggie had just woken up from her nap and we snuggled a little on Mommy and Daddy's bed which made her giggle and made me happy. She's just so affectionate!
A while later after Lily left, she got her doll and we sat on the couch and talked about her. Did the doll have a belly button? This required me to show her my belly button which really made her laugh. The doll had hands. The doll had feet.
The doll was sad.
"Maybe she needs nursey's," I said, and Maggie pulled up her shirt and gave her about one second of nursery's and then kissed her.
"She need nap now," she said.
"Okay," I told her and she took the doll into her room. I waited a moment or two and then went into her room to find this going on.

She was in the rocking chair, holding her baby and reading to her. She read her two books.

Then she said, "The end," and unceremoniously dumped the doll into her own crib and threw a few books in with her for good measure. 

"That's good," I told her. "She can read if she wants to."

And on we went to other things. 

We picked up the boys at the bus stop and Owen announced with what appeared to be a small amount of defiance that he had broken a window at his house. 

"Really? How'd you do that?"

"Golfing," said Gibson. 

"Well, that's why you don't golf in the house," I said. 

We got homework done and snacks made and eaten and Maggie and I spent quite a bit of time looking at a bug. It was a small beetle and I held it and asked her if she wanted to hold it and she did but every time I tried to put it in her hand, she changed her mind and said, "No!" 

And I respected that. 

She is such a smart little girl and can do puzzles and sings to herself as she goes about her life. 

I feel so lucky to be her grandmother. 

When Jason got home, I took my leave and kissed them all. 

"Where you going?" asked Maggie.

"I'm going to my house," I said. "Daddy's here and he will take care of you."

"Okay," she said. 

And that was that and I drove home, listening to more news about what Trump's latest crap is going to lead to and got depressed but Lord, doesn't it seem like every day the noose is tightening around his nuts? 

I hope it happens before he starts WW III in a fit of fear and pique. 

By the way, if you read to enjoy a well-written, good story I would like to recommend Lee Smith's Agate Hill. It will not leave you wondering WHAT THE FUCK?! but will leave you sighing a bit and also sad to leave these people and their stories behind. 

Well, at least that's how I felt. 

We need rain even more than we did yesterday.

Be well, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Such A Small Life But So Rich In Some Ways

This is a house I pass on my walk if I go down Farms Road which is an offshoot of White House Road which is where I've been walking. Farms Road is the one that leads downhill, downhill, downhill almost all the way to where it ends which is right across the railroad tracks which lead west eventually to my back yard and then on to Jacksonville. Or New Orleans, depending on which way you are going. The house is nice, yes, but I took the picture because this is where I saw three does effortlessly leap that board fence and then...oh my heart...three young'uns following behind, trying to keep up with their mamas. They make no noise, no noise at all, as if they are an illusion in my mind. Later on, as I was walking back up the road which is uphill, uphill, uphill, I saw four more deer cross right in front of me, as silent as the others had been, to vanish into the green leafed woods.
Ah. Even as I hate those hills, I love the walk. Ponds and trees and the sound of frogs and water birds, and the swell of cricket song.

 I keep wondering why I have suddenly decided to take on these extra miles but I think it has something to do with simply being alone with my own stride, breath, effort, and of course the book I am listening to. I would love to say that it feels good to push myself and I suppose it does but honestly, after the first five miles, it is mostly a disassociation between mind and body, each step one bit closer to where my car is parked in the shade, my Yeti cup filled with ice water, waiting for me to return. This becomes more and more true as the temperatures rise and I need to get up earlier, get started earlier before the sun's heat reaches its zenith.

Jessie and her boys came out today to visit the chickens and just hang out. I love how Levon (who turned six months old today!) looks around so intently at my kitchen, checking out all of the colorful things hanging from the walls and on top of the kitchen hutch. Today Jessie showed him around.
"That's an angel, and that's the Virgin of Guadalupe, and those are aprons, and those are Christmas ornaments..."
Etc.
He is highly amused by it all, as all children seem to be.
I made us tuna salad sandwiches today with a hardboiled egg and celery and onions and pickle relish and tomatoes and mayonnaise. We ate on the porch, as we always do and Levon relaxed in the walker playing with toys and then August joined him and I got this sweet picture.

We spent a lot of time with the chicks and also laid on my bed with the fan on us, me reading books to August. 

"Aren't you tired of this one?" I asked as he brought me A Fish Out of Water which we have probably read thirty times at least. 

"No," he said, and I read it again with all of the voices and inflections and he listened carefully as he always does. Levon got some milk and then laid on his back and chewed on another book for a good long while and it was pure pleasure. 

After they left I cleaned up some and took a little nap. I needed it and it restored me. Boppy is at a ballgame of Owen's. I had thought that last Saturday's game was the last one but I was wrong. I feel a bit guilty for not attending but not very. My joints all hurt and sitting for that long on the bleachers would have been somewhat torturous and I will see all of those children tomorrow as I am taking up the slack a little for Lily and Jason whose schedules overlap. 

I'm about to go steam some peas and carrots and potatoes for my supper tonight and I think I'll make a little cream sauce to go on them. As I was turning the sprinklers on after I picked the peas, a little boy from the church next door imitated one of the neighborhood roosters and I said hello to him and he said hello back. 

"Would you like a fresh pea from my garden?" I asked him. 

"I guess so," he said. 

"It's a sugar snap pea and it is very sweet and you can eat the whole thing," I said. 

There were only a few feet between us but two lines of fence and some briars and cherry laurel bushes. 

"I'll have to throw it to you," I said. And I did and he got the pea and I said, "Try it."

He crunched into it. 

"What do you think?" I asked him. 

"It tastes like plant," he said. 

I laughed. "That's what my grandson said!" I told him. 

He imitated the rooster again and I said, "Have a nice evening!" and I hope he does. 

We need rain. 

Love...Ms. Moon

We Persevere

This is the only picture I took today except for some really lousy pictures of a flower in my yard which I think is salvia but probably isn't. I swear- my mind is like a sieve filled with swiss cheese these days. Listen to this- I have a plant in a pot on my porch that I have been thinking was an avocado for forever and just today as I was watering my porch plants, I realized it was about to bloom and that it is, in fact, a gardenia.
I'm almost certain.
Here's another thing I did today- I unloaded my washing machine and put all the wet clothes in the dryer, closed the door to the dryer, closed the door to the washing machine and then started the washer. With nothing in it.
A little while later I was thinking, "Jeez. Did I start the dryer after I put the clothes in it?"
No. I started the washer.
What the hell?
The only way I can shop these days is with a list and a pen in my hand. I have to cross things off the list to absolutely make sure I've gotten everything. I saw a woman in the store the other day with her list on a clipboard.
What a great idea! I thought.
I must have a clipboard around here somewhere. And don't tell me to use my phone. Please. I need the pen/paper/writing/scratching off thing to make my old brain work. Otherwise I'd probably just be in the cracker aisle watching Rolling Stones videos having completely forgotten I was shopping if I tried to use my phone to keep my lists on. I'm as easily distracted as a kitten with ADD.
Oh well. It is what it is and it seemed like the universe was out to get me today as I was driving from Costco to Jason's Deli where Jessie and I went to have our salad bar lunches. First thing that happened was that as I took a right-hand turn a car stopped right in front of me as if the driver had decided to suddenly back up. This is a relatively large highway. After that driver got her shit together and I was praising myself for not running into her, a truck decided to make a left-hand turn (and I was in the left lane at that point) but only got himself partly through the place where you have to wait to make a turn which meant that again, I had to stop quickly and inappropriately AND the fucking crazy woman in an Infinity behind me who was right up my ass almost hit me when I had to stop.
When I finally safely made it to the restaurant and got out of my car, I said to Jessie, "What in hell was that all about?" She'd been behind me the whole time.
"Right?!" she said. It made me feel better that I had a witness. She said that she thought the woman who was trying to back up was probably stoned and just realized she'd missed the turn for the Kentucky Fried Chicken.
That made sense. We've all been there.

So we got our salad bars and August was a pistol but guess what? Little Guy wore his big boy underwear today and went through the whole outing without a problem. Of course we took him to the bathroom about five times but still...
I'm so proud of him.
"Big boy underwear are a lot more comfortable than diapers, aren't they?" I asked him.
He agreed that they were but didn't get that excited about it.
A woman at Costco asked him how he was doing and he said, "Pretty good," which is what he says, of course, and she thought that was the funniest, best thing she'd ever heard. She could not get over it. Truthfully, I'll be really sad when he stops using that particular phrase.
And Levon was a good boy although he has found his voice, as Jessie says, and when he gets upset he lets out a cry like a raptor which makes me laugh.

And that was my day pretty much except, oh yeah! I bought a pair of wireless headphones at Costco because I simply cannot buy another dongle nor do I ever want to say the word "dongle" again. And it's time to join the 21st century. So far I like them fine.

Another day, another walk, another trip to town, another lunch with some of my babies, and I did not die either on the walk or on the highway and so I guess I'd have to say that the day was pretty good, all things considered.

How was your day? Was it pretty good? I hope so.

Love...Ms. Moon