Close To Perfection

I was surprised today by a blooming Iris. As surprises go, this one is so welcome. They don't bloom every year so that makes it all the more appreciated.

Jessie and Vergil came over today and we were going to go on a boat ride but then something came up with the steering on that boat and so forget that and then Mr. Moon and Vergil started on another project which took most of the afternoon. Jessie and I hung out with the kids and August and I read a book that had a beanbag game in it so I got out the sewing machine and some beans and we made two purple and two yellow beanbags and then I told him I'd make a pillow for him which led to Jessie and Levon and August and I piling into their truck and heading down the road to find some red clover to pick and put in the pillow. I used to make little red clover pillows for Hank and May and I had a yen to do that for August. We found some clover to pick and then we drove home and on the way we stopped by a little house where I used to live which had been for sale for a long time. I had loved that house and it was falling into dust but someone has bought it and it looks loved now as does the yard. That pulled some memories from their place in my heart of a time so long ago and so painful in some ways, so wonderful in others.

I stuffed August's pillow not only with the red clover but also with some rose petals and regular old stuffing. The clover smells like fresh-cut grass and I hope it makes my grandboy's dreams sweet as they can be.

The pillow is now on his bed where he's going to sleep tonight in Mer and Bop's room. We want him to be here tomorrow morning early when the guys come to take down the tree. He was a pretty patient boy this afternoon, waiting for his parents and brother to leave so that he could have his grandfather all to himself. He asked me a little while ago if I would please put my shoes on and go out and tell Boppy that it was time for some movie time. 

Time for movie time. 

Indeed. 

And now it is. Mama and Daddy and Brother have all gone home and August is as happy as he can be. 

So is his grandfather. 

And the grandmother is pretty happy too. We're going to have some leftover black beans and maybe some macaroni and cheese and a little roasted broccoli to bring the green to us. Last night I picked and washed and chopped a good amount of various greens and sauteed them with garlic and a slice of bacon and some olive oil. I sprinkled them with vinegar and each of us got a bowl of heaven to go with the ambrosia which was the black bean soup with pickled red onions. The bread was good too. 

I'm glad I'm a decent cook because I sure do like to eat. 

Here's Levon. 

My merry little man with his new haircut.

And here's my blooming buck-eye. It has grown so much taller this year. 

There have been two pairs of swallow tailed kites flying high above the trees today, heralding their return with their piercing whistle cry. It feels like a blessing upon us. 

Whole lot of sweetness going on, each day a celebration of some blossom opening, some bird returning, some new variation on perfect blue days, babies growing, their love wrapping itself even more firmly around our hearts. 

Not going to complain tonight. Not one bit. 

Love...Ms. Moon

The Shame And The Glory

I have been so industrious today and you know that always makes me happy, probably because I am shamed-based and anything I do that points to work and accomplishment helps a little to ease those feelings of guilt and shame and make me feel like a person who maybe does deserve the air she breathes. I think I fear being lazy as much as anything.
Well, not as much as I fear Republicans but a lot.
So. In that picture above you will see Dearie's eggs. She got off the nest this morning again to eat and take a nice little dirt bath and I took the opportunity to check out the clutch. There are actually eleven eggs there although you can only see ten. There's one hidden under that magnolia leaf.
Looking back I do believe that when Dearie was laying her eggs on the porch, first in a basket and then in the bag of shallots, she was trying to establish a nest in what she considered to be a safe place but of course the stupid human kept taking her eggs away from her hiding places and I feel bad about that now.

Vera/Viv also showed up for sustenance and I decided to try and follow her today to see where she's nesting. She headed towards the very northwest part of the yard, right next to the gate and the road. 

It's a place that I've let get completely out of control with briars and thorny dewberry and pyracantha and cherry laurel seedlings and poison ivy. (The guilt! The shame!)

I couldn't see her once she disappeared into the thicket but walked around the fence to the church's parking lot and from there I could see her, sitting on her eggs. She gave me the evil eye and I snapped her picture and left her alone. 

I suppose we can now add nest-sleuth to my resume. 

God, I hope I never have to apply for a real job. 

Besides stalking chickens I cleaned out the hen house and took the trash and recycle and did a little laundry and put the plants that were inside for winter back out on the porch and I swept some and I got a pot of black bean soup started. The recipe at the NYT's Cooking for "Best Black Bean Soup" is freaking amazing and I can't wait to eat that again tonight. I gave the recipe to Lis and she's used it twice already. I also have two loaves of bread rising and it was one of those miracle bread makings where I sort of guessed on the proportions of flour and salt and yeast and water and butter and dumped it all in the Kitchen Aid, put the dough hook to it and it made a dough that was absolutely just about almost incredibly perfect. And on top of all of that I finally got back in the garden and did some serious weeding and planted half a row of arugula to try and keep some fresh greens in our salads. The arugula I planted in the fall is already bolting but I read an article that said you can replant all summer and that it has a good chance of surviving the heat. 

We shall see. 

I also planted a fence row of green beans, half Blue Lake and half Kentucky Wonder. 

Very little feels better than getting something planted and turning the sprinkler on and sending your green hope wishes up to the garden gods and goddesses. 

My gardening magic familiar.

Okay. Here's something. 

Levon got his first haircut! 

Yes, yes, YES, it's darling but- oh my heart. As I told Jessie, "Honey, you have to warn me before you do these things."

The other day Maggie saw a picture of Jessie when she was a tiny girl and said, "Levon!" 

They do favor each other. And he is growing up and I love that but I also mourn him leaving babyhood as I have mourned each of my own children and now my grandchildren leaving their babyhoods, too. 

Oh a brighter note, Lily texted me today that Maggie wanted to go outside and Lily told her that she needed to put on her pants first and then, "With a defiant tilt of her head she yelled, 'I want to ride my cycle nake!'"

The Woman Baby Goddess makes her wishes known. 

And this is how the day has gone and I am not unhappy with it in the least. I AM unhappy with the fact that we have to set the clocks up an hour tonight. Oh, fuck that shit. This is ridiculous. Do you Brits do this time change thing or is it just us doody-head Americans? 

I will offer you one more observation, this one about aging. Or at least MY aging. 

I checked out three library books this past week and I came home to discover that one of them is absolutely horrible and beyond redemption and I cannot read it due to its ridiculousness and the other two I have already read. However, since I remember almost nothing about the two I've read I may just reread them. 

Well, I still know how to cook and I can track a broody hen so I'm not going to worry overmuch. 

Yet. 

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. 

So many roses! 

From The Sublime To The Beyond Ridiculous, According To Me

It could hardly have been a prettier day today. The sort of day that's so beautiful that with its perfection it brings a sense that nothing one does could possibly compete with what simply is, thus lending a sort of guilt-free desire to do little beyond enjoy that perfection. Although hanging the clothes on the line is such a pleasurable way to use the sunny breezes and drier air that it only adds to the enjoyment of the whole. 

For me, at least. 

Dancing prayer flags made of sheets and napkins, cotton shirts and tablecloths. 

While I was hanging the sheets I noticed that Dearie was off her nest and was pecking at the grains of scratch left by the flock this morning so I went into the coop where the food is kept and she followed me. I set out a good portion of scratch for her and her alone and she ate almost frantically and I determined that I would watch her to see where she has her nest when she'd had her fill. 

She knew I was doing that. And she did not like it. I've said it before and I wills say it again- these jungle fowls are wily and wise in their own ways. She tried to throw me off the trail and I did indeed lose her once in a small thicket of iron plant but then she reappeared and headed to the back yard and I swear to god- I took my eyes off her for one second and she literally disappeared. 

Well. Obviously she is not a sorceress. Or a shape-shifter. She had to be somewhere. And there was only one place she could be hiding. 

Sure enough. I tipped up that old pink tin washbasin and there she was, as still and flattened as one of those brown magnolia leaves. I wanted desperately to thoroughly investigate and see how many eggs she's sitting on but I did not want to spook her and softly covered her again and walked away. This does not seem to me to be the safest place for a hen to have a nest but she is the mama and I am not. I have no clue at all where Viv and/or Vera are sitting on eggs. They are making themselves extremely scarce. 

So, tracking a hen to her nest seemed like another good way to enjoy the day and I did enjoy it. 

I knew I needed to go to town to get a few things and I procrastinated and procrastinated but finally I got dressed in town-appropriate garb and went. It wasn't so bad. I got my errands run quick-quick and did not run into anyone I knew and came home. I put away groceries and took everything off the line and folded each piece as I set it into the hamper and even that chore was pleasurable. Mr. Moon came home early and that was nice too. 

And so now my bed is made with clean sheets and I am going to make us a delicious supper which is halfway sinful (pork chops, homemade applesauce, sweet potatoes, artichokes) and I have taken a few pictures in the yard. 

The sun going down through the azaleas. If you look closely after clicking, you may even see a bumble bee or two. I was thrilled to see them flying about, insinuating their fat bodies into the throats of the flowers and then flying off to buzz more of the purple beauties. 

The wisteria starting to bud on the trellis in my back yard. And oh! Won't the bees love it when that all blooms? I will too. I know it's an invasive plant but there is not much in this world as gorgeous as hanging wisteria blossoms. 

The tree that Hurricane Michael blew down and which is still in our back yard. On Monday morning a crew is coming to take it out, finally. Quite frankly, I've gotten used to it being there but I suppose that it really does need to go. 

A cluster of Tung tree blossoms. These bring me pleasure every spring. They are so exquisitely shaded and delicate. The trees are supposedly deadly toxic in all of their parts- branches, leaves, flowers and nuts. And yet, I've never known man nor beast to die from their poison. Of course, that means nothing because I really don't know shit. 

Another sun-setting picture. The oak tree in front of the sun has its fancy new green petticoats on although it's hard to tell from the photo. The witchy branches in the foreground are the Bradford pears which haven't begun to leaf yet. 

And that's my news of the day. I'm sure you've all seen the real news of Trump signing Bibles at an Evangelical church in Alabama where he went to view the tornado damage. Melania signed a few as well. I don't even have words to describe how I feel about this. Do you laugh? Do you cry? Do you punch a hole in the wall? 

No. Don't do that. You'll hurt yourself and have to pay to repair the damage. 

All I can really say is that I suppose if you are the sort of person who accepts what those churches teach as the word of their god then you'll believe anything. 

And vote for the devil thinking you're voting for your god. 

The frogs are singing their love songs. I think I will work in the garden tomorrow. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Visit From The Woman Baby

Ms. Magnolia June came to my house to play today while her mommy went on a field trip with Owen. We had a sweet time. Maggie is easy to take care of when it's just her. She plays endlessly with her dolls and the bears and the rabbits, is pretty much potty-trained, is funny and smart and loving.

She will not touch Maurice, aka Scratch, but loves to pat Jack. 

She is telling me not to disturb the hen on the nest. 

She loves the goats next door and is not in the least afraid of them. 

She likes to feed the goats. And she also likes to feed her babies. 

We walked to the post office and she pretended to be frightened every time a car came within earshot although she wasn't really. At the post office she wanted to know where HER mailbox was. She was sad when I told her she did not have one. 

She can be a little bossy. When we're going outside and she's putting on her shoes (she insists on doing it herself) she will point that little finger at me and say, "You wait!" And of course I do. 

When Lily and Owen came to pick her up she was happy to see them. Owen is such a good big brother. He has been since she was born. 

After we went to the Post Office, we sat on the porch swing for awhile, swinging back and forth and I told her how when Owen was a baby I used to rock him to sleep on that porch. 

She curled up beside me, leaning on me and I put my arm around her sweet, solid body and we rocked back and forth, watching the sky and the trees, the cars going by and we were quiet. 

It was a precious moment. 

I want to always remember that. I want her to always remember it too. 

I hope she does. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Happy Birthday, Rachel!

That's a pine blossom. Isn't it lovely? The thing that's not so lovely is the yellow pollen that coats everything here now, sticking to cars and floors and people if they sit long enough. And the gagging and sneezing and sinus problems are at their yearly full force. Still, it's a pretty thing.

Woke up this morning quite cheerful. It's Rachel's birthday and I knew we were all going to meet up at Persis Grille, the Indian buffet for lunch. I finished the cake last night and was quite proud of it. Here's what it looked like this morning after I'd decorated it with some of the blooming roses from the bush that Ellen sent me last year. They have the sweetest scent.

It was sort of a hummingbird cake which has pineapple and banana in it and I threw some fig and guava preserves in there too and the frosting, instead of being made with cream cheese which I did not have, was made with a fig goat-cheese spread that I mixed with the butter and the confectioner's sugar. I had high hopes for it. 

Well. I probably won't do that again. It just didn't taste that good. The cake was pretty, though, and it was moist. I think one of the bananas I used wasn't ripe enough which added to the problem. I know you can't win them all but I was very disappointed and vow to do better by Rachel next year. Here's what it looked like after August and Maggie and Wiley added all the cool things from my collection of vintage (garage sale) candle holders and decorations. 

There's a lot going on there. 

Before lunch, Jessie and I met at the Costco where she needed some things. I just needed some August and Levon time. Which I got. 

Persis was most welcoming. I try very hard not to be a pain when we have these restaurant birthday parties so I brought our own little plates and forks but they made sure that we had everything we needed. Family owned restaurants are the best. As we all know. We had delicious food and lots of chat and Wiley called me grandma again. He is totally convinced that I am one of his grandmothers. Here he is without his glasses. 

He's his mother's doppelganger. Darling little man. 

Beautiful Rachel about to blow out the candles. We sang "Happy Birthday" at an appropriate restaurant level, which is to say softly. But with great feeling.  

August has suddenly gotten into super heroes and here he and Uncle Hank are discussing the issues surrounding that topic. In Costco I asked him what made the Hulk so strong.

"His muscles," he said. 

Smart boy. 

See the egg carton? Jessie and I both bring eggs to every gathering for the chicken-deprived. And no, no new news on the chick front. I expect it'll be at least a week before we see any of the little fluffs. 

Lord, it's going to be crazy around here. 

After our party, we all gathered outside to say good-bye which can take approximately half as long as the original gathering did. Have you ever heard the expression, "Irish goodbye?" That's when someone just takes their leave without saying a word. Not in a rude way, just an expedited way calculated to avoid long and emotional departures. Well, we do the Southern goodbye which is the exact opposite. Everyone has to hug and kiss everyone. At least once. There are side-goodbyes and little chats and catching up on things that we did not have time to talk about during the main event. Also, in our case, there must be a group photo of the children. Today's was not a particularly great photo but when I look back on it, I'll laugh. 

Maggie started the mess when she discovered that she could use the little bushes to scratch her butt. August thought this was a great idea. Wiley tried to get in on it but he wasn't sure.  And Levon? He's wondering why all these kids are being so crazy. His butt is fine. 

And so that was my fun lunch with some of my fun family and after we had finally given ALL the kisses and ALL the hugs and said everything we needed to say, I drove to the library and returned books and got books and gave thanks once more for the idea and reality of the public library. I came home, did a few housekeeping chores and then, with the greatest and most luxurious enjoyment, laid down on my bed to start reading one of my new books and then fell asleep. 

One more thing. 

Who sent me this precious book I found waiting for me at the Lloyd post office today? Thank you, thank you, thank you! I can't wait to read it to my babies. I love it and I'm sure they will too. 

How beautiful. 

I am such a lucky woman in so many ways. 

Love...Ms. Moon, The Very, Very Fortunate

All Is Well

This is how a photo of the Wakulla River came out today. Just a simple snap! as the old metal jungle tour boat started gliding away from the dock and down the river. I think it is rather lovely.

Dinner went fine. My husband's old friend is a laid-back, mellow guy as very tall men so often are. He is hugely nostalgic but not in a mourning the glory days sort of way. More in the way that he appears to still have a lot of love for the people whom he knew and loved back in the old days of being young and playing ball, first for Auburn and then in Europe. He brought pictures and he and Mr. Moon had a great time going over them, remembering, sharing stories and memories. They were happy. And I was glad for that.
The wife is a fine woman. She is the mother of two and also the grandmother of five. She and her husband have always been extremely family-centered and they still are. She and I are not much alike although she, too, was a nurse and yes, a mother and now a grandmother. I have a feeling that our lifestyles are a bit different but I felt comfortable showing her my house which, even if there is mold and a lot of it needs painting and the floor goes downhill in the kitchen, I think is dignified and beautiful and welcoming and cozy and I am proud of it.
When I was cooking, I asked her if they had any food allergies.
"Oh, no," she said. "I'm just very allergic to cats."
Even as she spoke she was about to sit down on the towel I keep on one of the bar stools in the kitchen for Maurice to sleep on.
"Wait! Don't sit down!" I said. "Here, take a Benadryl!"
And she did. She seemed to be fine. It was not a big deal.
We ate our supper and I think everyone was happy with it and made our plans to go to Wakulla Springs the next morning. I take everyone from out of town to Wakulla Springs because I think it has a little bit of all of the best of this part of Florida. Some outrageously beautiful untouched nature as well as the lovely old lodge with its dining room that has absolutely terrific, local food which is representative of a uniquely Florida menu.
And so we went today and as always, it was lovely.

Here's the lobby of the lodge with its pecky, painted cypress ceiling, its marble floor, its cool old furniture and the graceful iron arched windows. You can see the dining room entrance at the end of the room. 

This is one of the iron herons that form the balusters beside the stairs guests take to their rooms on the second floor. 

We ate fried green tomatoes with a sriracha mayo sauce and goat cheese and greens and smoked mullet dip as a shared appetizer and between the four of us there was a grouper sandwich, a Cobb salad, a Beekeeper's salad which had shrimp and greens and pasta and a delicious orange/honey/poppyseed dressing, and an order of shrimp and grits. 

Fresh and delicious and soul-satisfying. 

And then we took the jungle boat cruise which I have probably done at least twenty times with family, with school classes, with visitors. And I never, ever wish I hadn't gone. It's always beautiful. Today we saw so many types of birds and we saw manatees, including a small baby, spider lilies, ancient cypress trees, turtles, gators and the beautiful clear water (not as clear as it used to be) that boils out of the spring head beneath the high dive at the rate of 300 million gallons a day. 

It is a holy place. 

I loved our guide and boat driver. She was small but mighty and she knew her birds and her trees and where we would probably see the most gators. 

I am a terrible nature photographer but here's one fairly large gator, sunning himself on the river bank. As our guide explained, those bumps on his back are called scoots and are essentially solar panels which collect the sun's heat and distribute it through the body. Every time I take this tour I learn something new although I generally forget what I've learned before we even dock to depart the boat so each new journey down the river and back is educational for me. 

And then we drove back to Lloyd where I was dropped off and our guests drove back to Tallahassee where they are staying and Mr. Moon drove in to town behind him as they are all meeting up to go to a basketball game which of course you know I am not attending. 

I'm here at home, making a birthday cake for our darling Rachel. It is her birthday tomorrow and we are meeting up at Persis, the Indian buffet to celebrate her. She is doing so well in her new job and it is a job that is making a difference in people's lives and I fall a little more in love with her each day. How fortunate we are to have her in our lives now and for her to let us be a part of her life. We love her more than she can know. 

So. In one more bit of chicken news, Dearie has also disappeared and I feel certain that she, too, is sitting on eggs. 

People. This means that I have at least two hens on eggs and possibly three. Do you remember that Dearie's first hatched clutch amounted to ten babies? 

Oh for god's sake. 

Can you spay a hen? 

Well, at least I won't have to be giving the Farm and Tractor Supply store any of my money for chicks this spring nor will I have to have a pack-n-play in my bathroom with peeps in it. Whatever chicks are hatched from these mothers will have full reign of the yard and coop from their birth because I'm just going to totally let those jungle fowl have their mama way with their babies. 

Speaking of which, I feel certain that our visitors from Chicago now know far more about chickens than they ever wanted to know. It's like I'm obsessed with chickens or something. 

Or something. 

Time to go make the frosting. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Bit Out Of My Comfort Zone

I've got people coming over to dinner tonight whom I do not really know. They're a couple and the man part of it was Mr. Moon's college roommate at Auburn where they both matriculated but more importantly, played basketball.
I say "more importantly" because let's be honest. They did not bond in a psych class, they bonded on the basketball court.
Anyway, these folks live in Chicago which is quite far from Lloyd in a lot of ways. I met them one time when Mr. Moon and I went to Chicago. We all ate at famous pizza place and I really do not remember much about the evening because it happened in 1991 and that was quite some time ago. Twenty-eight years, to be exact.

I always get a little anxious when people I don't know are coming over. I mean people I REALLY don't know. Like if someone I met in blogworld were to come over they would already have a pretty good idea of who I am and how I live and I would feel as if I know them a bit, too. But this is different. I have no idea of their politics or if they are religious or any of those things. I know they've been married a very long time and that they have grandchildren and he is tall and she is not. And also, that my husband has a great fondness for them and still talks about how awesome their wedding was.

And it's funny how, when people are coming over, you suddenly see your home with different eyes. I have discussed this before. But again, most of the people who come here are aware of the fact that I have aprons hanging on the wall in the kitchen and that I seem to collect madonnas to whom I attach NO religious feelings and that I "decorate" in a slightly quirky way which one could not even call a "style."
See picture above for example.
Plus, can you see all the dust on that stuff?
Ooh boy.

Well, I'm making chicken and dumplings and that fruit pie I made last week is thawing and I'll make a salad from the garden and that's about all I can do. Well, it's about all I am going to do. I also picked fresh flowers and actually scrubbed the toilets yesterday so there you go.

We shall see how it goes. I sort of really hope they like to drink.

Last night after I posted my blog, we suddenly started getting tornado warnings. It never got bad here but there was a great deal of devastation not too far away as well as some deaths. So that was weird. Today has been beautiful, cooler and drier and clear after about noon. I took a walk and enjoyed it tremendously.

I got the best text from Jessie this morning.
"August just picked out the latest dress you made him to wear today and when he put it on he said, 'I'm trying not to hurt my dress because I love it so much.'"
I do not know if I have ever been so richly rewarded for any effort in my life. I felt as if I should immediately sew him another fifty or so dresses. I will definitely make at least one soon.
Here's the picture I asked for.

And here's what the lettuces looked like with the sun going down behind them when I went out to pick a few minutes ago.

Isn't that pretty? Tasty, too. 

Okay. I'll go ahead and post this and let you know how it went tomorrow. I'm thinking right now that not only would it be helpful if they drink, I also hope that they are not allergic to mold because if they are, we're in trouble. 

Be well, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Grateful On This Particular Sunday

Bromeliad blossom on the grave of Elvis the Rooster. He is sorely missed and we shall always cherish his memory.

It's been a fine day for a Sunday. It was supposed to rain all day according to last night's forecast but instead, it was windy as could be and the sun popped in and out and there were long stretches where it was as beautiful a day as anyone could have wanted. We had thought, before the forecast last night, that we might take the boat out on the St. Mark's river with Jessie and Vergil and the boys and Vergil's father and his stepmama who are visiting but decided it wouldn't be a good idea and the radar showed some sketchiness this morning so we canceled that plan which made me a little sad because there's not much I'd rather do on a Sunday than go down the river and maybe stop for some oysters and beer and perhaps live music at one of the places that offer those pleasures.
But we got to see the relatives anyway when they all came by here to pick up some supplies for I'm not sure what but it had something to do with a barrel and hung out and visited for awhile. Vergil's dad's wife is a woman I feel eminently comfortable with and she and August and I came in the house and went straight to playing with Lincoln Logs and the bunnies and bears and some other toys but August seemed to be not quite his usual self. There has been a lot of company at their house lately and it's all been loving and beloved company but anything that disturbs a three year old's routine of regular bedtimes and naps and activities can be a little disturbing, even if it's wonderful and fun. So after awhile he was just over playing with stuff and carefully and methodically brushed everything off the little table where we were playing and on to the floor.
Go-Go, which is what he calls this grandmother (and it's a completely fitting name because she has boundless energy and is as fun as can be) looked at him and said, "August, what would your mother say if she saw you do that?"
He thought about it for a moment and then he answered, "Oh Lord."
We laughed and laughed. Well, the grandmothers did. August was serious.
We went outside to find Jessie and Levon and the men huddled around Mr. Moon's recently restored vintage Cushman Husky (google that if you want to) with Vergil ready to take a little ride on it around the yard. Which he did. August was amazed. Then his grandfather (known as Grandfather) took a ride on it. It was pretty cool to watch the men enjoy this toy-like motorcycle so much. August wanted a ride but instead, Mr. Moon started up the riding lawnmower which is a fancy thing and they had a ride on that instead, August wearing ear protection and looking completely intent and thrilled.
Men have all the good toys.
And then it was time for all of them to continue on with their plans which was to go to the Hilltop and get lunch and take it to the mounds for a picnic. We were invited but had some things going on here that we felt we needed to attend to although when August said to his Boppy, "Will you go with us to the Hilltop?" we almost caved.
But we get to see the boys a lot and Grandfather and Go-Go don't get to see them but a few times a year and in all fairness, when they're here they deserve to get all the one-on-one time with them that they can. So there were many hugs and off they drove and Mr. Moon went to work clearing more bamboo and I went back to the garden. I cleared out more ground to plant beans in and then freed the miniature beet re-seedlings from the encroaching weeds. This all feels like completely useless labor but as we all know by now, I sort of like to weed. As with ironing it is a very temporarily constructive achievement and never, ever-ending but when the weather is nice and I'm listening to something good as I work, it's not a bad way to spend some time. And I do believe that any time spent on one's knees in the dirt is therapeutic at the very least so there is that, too.

And that's how it's been today. Hanging out with sweet people, having good conversations with all of them including the three year old, getting dirty and not too ant-bit, feeling as much as seeing the advent of spring as the wind blows itself about bringing whatever it is portending,

and pondering everything from how fast my grandchildren are growing up to the very, very strange dream I had this morning which no, I really do not care to discuss although I will say that it featured Anthony Bourdain.

I've also been thinking a lot about the article in this morning's paper about a local doctor, hero, and generally amazing person named Dr. Brickler who, at the age of 90 and after over delivering over 30,000 babies, is supposedly retiring.

If you do a search at the top of my blog for Dr. Brickler, you will find a few posts that I've written in which he is mentioned. He's someone that I have had interactions with on and off for over forty years and I have always respected and admired him more than I can say. So our local paper did a huge front page article on him and what he has achieved and accomplished in his lifetime, all so very quietly and humbly, and I've been reflecting on him and his life all day long. Perhaps my favorite part of the article (which you can read HERE) was in the timeline of medical accomplishments of Dr. Brickler. The very last one said, "Feb.8, 2019- At 90 years old, he retires from practicing full-time." 

That cracks me up. I have a strong feeling that he is still going to be walking around the halls of L&D, wearing scrubs and checking up on how things are going. A nurse once told me that he can talk to the babies while they're waiting to be born and I like to imagine that he will never, ever completely quit having those conversations and making the mothers feel safer and reassured that all will be well.
And one thing I learned from the article which I had never known before was that his great aunt was Harriet Tubman.
Unbelievable.
And yet...that completely makes sense.

Some people are just a gift to this earth and Tallahassee has been exceptionally fortunate in having this man, this gift, in our midst. And we still are.

Well, there's a lot more I could talk about but luckily for you, I need to go put the chickens up and make our supper.

It's thundering off to the south east now and the rain has begun falling.

Peace.

Love...Ms. Moon

Lagniappe

Maggie has renamed Maurice. From henceforth, she shall call her Scratch. 
Brilliant child.

How To Feel Useful

To fight the feeling of ennui and uselessness I was having this morning I texted Lily and asked if the kids would like to come over to play. She texted back that at the moment they were playing in the sprinkler and the mud and were pretty happy. But we worked it out that after mud play time they'd take a bath and come over here and so I went to collect them. I have been missing Owen and Gibson and Maggie and haven't really seen the boys in awhile.
So I picked them up and we drove on back to Lloyd and the fun began.
I offered them leftover spaghetti for lunch which they all said they wanted but Maggie immediately started playing with her new bears and went from them to another toy and couldn't be bothered to eat
and it turns out that Owen and Gibson don't really like my spaghetti (too many mushrooms, I think) although they were very sweet about it. I made Owen a peanut butter sandwich and Gibson a peanut butter and jelly. Owen doesn't like jelly. What child doesn't like jelly?
Oh well.
Then I started to make cookies because I wanted this visit to be the full grandmother experience and grandmothers always make cookies.

Oatmeal, raisin, pecan, chocolate chip cookies being guarded by Ratty. 

Right? As a side note, when Mr. Moon and I were in Georgia last Saturday doing that antique shopping, I kept seeing such cool old cookie jars and said that I wish we still lived in a time where it was acceptable to not only have a cookie jar but to keep it filled with homemade cookies. I love to make cookies and almost never do and of course no one around here needs endless cookie jars full of cookies. We just don't.
But I made cookies today. It took me forever because I was needed for one thing or another constantly and after about two hours of being needed I was totally over needing to feel needed and there may have been a poop incident (not naming names here) and I think that the quilt is now ready to take out of the dryer.
These things happen.
But it was fun. Owen played a Rolling Stones record (does he listen to the words? I hope not) and remembered precisely how to let the needle down gently and so forth. I didn't get any good pictures of the boys but I did get some decent shots of Ms. Magnolia June.

Riding the horse. Best purchase I ever made, that horse.

She is explaining to me that the babies need to see the doctor.

This is a little play set that I think I bought at a thrift store when Gibson was young. She spends hours with these little bears and rabbits. As you can see she has supper laid out and is intent on whatever she has going on in her mind. She speaks the parts of all of these animals out loud and I often think she's fussing but no, it's one of the babies fussing and sometimes I'll hear her say, "Mommy! Mommy!" and I think she needs her mother but it's a young rabbit or bear who needs her mommy. Or his mommy. She has named one of them "Pie" and Pie got a lot of lines today.

 

Here she is in the backyard surveying the damage the downed tree did to the slide and swings. She does not approve. As you can tell. 

Can you see the pink in her hair? Her mommy did that with food coloring. Owen wanted his hair dyed with red and blue to represent the colors of his baseball team and Maggie wanted to get in on the act. Gibson actually has a little bit of dye in his hair too. These are stylin' kids. 

Owen and Gibson went outside to the bamboo jungle and I let them go and play out there by themselves for the first time. I've got to let them be more independent. Owen is nine and a half and Gibson is almost seven. I warned them to watch for snakes and kept an ear out and could hear great crackings and smackings but no crying or screaming and pretty soon they both showed up with long staffs of bamboo to take home with them, quite proud of the fact that they'd managed to hit them hard enough on the ground and the fence to reduce the length to a reasonable one which would fit into the car. 

No blood, no foul. All was well. 

Owen wanted to go out to the garden and that made me happy, of course. He picked a few carrots big enough to eat and then helped me pick greens for our supper. He munched on some kale as we went because he does love kale. He and Maggie and I also collected eggs. Six today! That was nice. At one point in the afternoon Maggie wanted me to cook her some eggs which I did. She is getting quite good at breaking an egg in such a way that most of it goes into the bowl. She didn't eat much of the eggs but gave them to the chickens before she left and chickens do love scrambled eggs. And cold spaghetti, too.

Lily came and got her babies just about the time I was running completely out of energy. I really had a good time with them, even if it did sort of wear me out. Owen told me that he hopes I know how cool my house is. 

I do. 

And it pleases me hugely that he thinks that it is. I sometimes fantasize that when he gets to be a teenager who can't bear to live at home anymore he'll come move in with us and help his old Bop and Mer in their old age. I would bake him many cookies if he did. 

Old Boppy and Old Mer kissed them all good-bye before they drove off. It'll be Owen driving before we know it. 

I love those kids so much. They know it, too. 

I know I have reported that both Viv and Vera are missing but did I also report that I've seen at least one of them in the last few days? I have no idea which one. They are identical to my eye. So either one or both of them are sitting on eggs which I would be far more excited about if I didn't already have this huge problem with all of the roosters that Dearie birthed. Hatched. Whatever. 

Remember when Owen was younger and he saw little Miss Violet sitting on a huge pile of eggs and said, "She is having birth!" I like that terminology. 

So here is Viv/Vera this morning, rushing in to get some scratch before she disappeared again to sit on her eggs. 

We have GOT to deal with those roosters. They are driving the hens insane and it's not fair to them and it's just a complete disruption to the sweet, calm life of my little flock. I'm almost tempted to get rid of Ringo along with the rest of them because then perhaps all of the hens would follow Liberace into the hen house at night. 

"Get chickens!" Kathleen said. "It'll be fun!"

And it has been wonderful and fun and incredibly interesting and all that stuff but it's totally out of whack right now and that must be taken care of. I would not be a responsible chicken keeper if I let this problem persist.

So that's what happened in Lloyd today. It's rained on and off and it's warm and before next week is over it's supposed to get back down into the thirties which is fine with me. 

The duck is still out and now the quilt is clean and dry too. I'm ready for a little more blessed coolness before the heat overtakes us once again. 

Oh, Florida. Why do I even live here? I guess I must like it. 

Sometimes. 

Love...Ms. Moon

What's It All Mean, Mr. Natural? Don't Mean Shit, Part 247

That's the Buckeye blossom. If I were a bee or a hummingbird or a butterfly, I would wear my brightest lipstick, deepest decolletage, and highest heels to court it.

It's been one of those days. Just...off.
Mr. Moon left the house at 3:00 a.m. to fly to Ft. Lauderdale to pick up a car for a customer.
Three. A.M.
And of course he had to fly to Atlanta from Tallahassee to get the plane to Ft. Lauderdale because Tallahassee is a podunk place with shitty airline service despite the fact that it's the capital of Florida. So, yeah. I woke up when he left and told him I loved him and he hugged me and I fell back asleep and the next thing I knew it was 4:30 a.m. and the phone was ringing and I was relieved when I saw it was his number because at least if he was calling me he was alive but he couldn't find his wallet and was it by the door? Had he forgotten it? I couldn't find it and he was just about to freak out when he found it in a sort of hidden pocket in the backpack he was carrying with him.
Nothing like a good burst of adrenalin at that time of the morning.
I did go back to sleep though.
My dreams have been absolutely cinematic in scope lately. I am not even me in some of them. I am someone else. One was actually set in a different universe which was comprised of many different universes. Wish I could remember more about that one. A few nights ago I dreamed I was living in India which was my home and my parents had won a lottery and taken off and deserted me and my two sisters and I had to run what had been the family business which was renting out rooms and also, taking care of those little girls.
Cleaning was involved.
Last night, or this morning, I was in a boat traveling the coast of Africa, alone, and I had no idea how the boat worked or anything about it but somehow I found myself at a port in some unknown to me city in some unknown to me country on that vast continent and it was sort of a colonial situation and a good friend of mine from days long past was there, elegant and knowing everything I did not, and I was falling in love with wherever it was that I was in Africa.
Perhaps my brain is making up for the fact that I don't go much of anywhere or do much of anything these days, by taking me on these far-away adventures or maybe I am remembering past lives or even viewing possible future lives.
I do not know.

I did go to Tallahassee today, podunk place that it is. I went to Michael's and bought embroidery thread and a cheap artist's pen and then I went to Marshall's and bought a linen dress without even trying it on and a linen shirt without even trying it on and then I went to Publix and bought what one buys at Publix which is mostly food and toilet paper.
I swept the porches, I did some laundry, I found five nice eggs.
One of my hens has a very red butt and according to the internet it could be anything from mites to a fungal infection and no, I am not going to give my chicken Epson salts baths nor am I going to put diaper rash cream on her butt.
If it starts to spread to the other hens, I'll do something.
Something...
I guess.

I feel as if I am in a space of ennui, of inaction and the complete inability to begin anything new or to deal with anything old or to do anything, anything at all besides handling the most basic elements of life. I look at places in the yard that need attention desperately and I sigh and avert my eyes. I try to do things in the garden but after about an hour and twenty ant bites I give up and promise myself I'll get back to it eventually.

I will stop bitching now. Because that is what I'm doing. I have no valid reason for complaint and yet, complain I do. At least I'm not blaming anyone else for my seemingly static existence because that would be ridiculous. I am not stupid.
Maybe I'm just going through a period of time where my mind is trying to wrap itself around the reality of being the age I am, looking the way I do, feeling the way I feel.
Which is also ridiculous. Seems obvious that the women who thrive the most as they age are the ones who just plow right on through, refusing to put down their paintbrushes, their pens, their hoes or their shovels, their microphones or their make-up, their running shoes or their responsibilities, their spirits or their stethoscopes, their joie de vivre or their jewelry, their guts or grins or guitars.

Yeah well. Good for them.

I'm gonna go chop some cabbage.

Love...Ms. Moon