Daily Report

 Pine cone lilies.

Lately my dreams have taken on a new story line. The crazy house where hoarders and museum directors obviously lived is still involved but the new twist is that I am given a newborn baby and am completely unprepared. The other night when I had my first dream in this genre, my main worry was that I could not breastfeed and I had no formula. There were other problems, one of which was that I had two other small children in my care and needed to bathe them all and despite the house having many, many bathrooms, none of them had been cleaned in decades (yet another task I needed to get to) and the tubs were especially atrocious. I mean, great giant chunks of something which could have been fungus. There was more but that's enough of that one.

The one I woke up to this morning involved another newborn and this time I managed to get to Target to buy the things I needed. A very helpful salesperson collected all of the items I asked for including little shirts and nightgowns, diapers, and blankets. When it came time to pay the bill, though, I was astounded at how much it all cost and looked through the items and realized that the "nice" Target lady had tried to upsell me by putting in fancy baby things like miniature yoga work-out wear instead of the plain cotton t-shirts I'd wanted. I threw a small fit and she exchanged those items. I was still worried about the formula situation and held the little baby the whole time this was going on, always afraid I was going to drop him. 

I am not quite sure what all of this means. Perhaps it is nothing more than being a bit worried about Levon spending the night for the first time. If that IS the case, I am obviously far more concerned than I should be. But who knows? I find dreams to be sometimes very uncomfortable, sometimes very frustrating, sometimes even horrifying, but almost always quite interesting and sometimes even fascinating and they're probably all more of a product of the medications I'm on than anything else but my brain does have to pick out what it is I'm going to obsess about in my sleep. And I suppose that given the way my waking hours have become so very routine, so very similar day-to-day, the dreams appear even more colorful, more interesting, more of something to ponder.

Today was one of those routine days. I spent some time in the chicken coop. It has come to my attention that it has really become quite nasty. The coop is the outside part of the whole chicken arrangement which is fenced but not walled. The birds just walk about on dirt and of course they poop in there too and I'm sure I should have been doing something about that all these years but really haven't. So I got in there today and raked up the top layer (pun alert) of guano-earth and hauled it to the place where Mr. Moon keeps his composting stuff. That dirt is probably worth its weight in gold to a serious gardener. I had an old bag of pine shavings from when I used them in the bottom of my peep nursery bins and I spread that around the coop. The chickens are not sure about this. Some of them appear to be quite suspicious about the new carpet and may be waiting to see if the bold and the brave chickens go up in flames or something if they walk on it. 

After I did the dirt thing I decided to do a little more clearing of the garden. I got down on my knees and weeded and we all know I love to weed if the truth be told but I do NOT love to weed when it's so hot and so muggy. It was okay when the sun went behind a cloud but when it shone down brightly, I dripped sweat. 

And then the red ants found me or I found them. 

And that was enough of THAT!

I came in, took off my clothes, threw everything in the washer and took a shower. 

But you know what? We're not on fire here. It may feel hot as hell but we are not in the middle of hell which so much of the west coast is. It is impossible for me to imagine what that feels like, looks like, sounds like, smells like. If there is anything more terrifying than fire I don't know what it is. As much as I hate being in a hurricane, I would choose that any day over being threatened with fire. I can't even talk about it without feeling overwhelmed with a sense of panic. For those of you who are experiencing the effects of those fires, I wish you safety. Whatever that means- I wish it for you. And I so wish we could share some of the rain we've been getting here. 

In fact, it rained again this afternoon and I sat at the sewing machine and made another mask, so carefully, so attentive to everything I was doing and was so proud of myself until I realized I'd sewed the little sleeve for the nose wire on the bottom instead of the top. A chin wire, I suppose. Oh well. I got out my beloved seam ripper and took care of business and have now moved the piece that you can adjust to make the fit better to the top where it belongs. I've got my field peas simmering with onions and some ham and will start my rice soon. 

Jessie has sent me a few pictures of their time on Oak Island with Vergil's family. It looks so lovely. Here's August, playing cards with his Uncle Ben. 

Look at that foot and those beautiful fingers. Do you think he's excited? 

Here's another from today when it was raining so they got out the sidewalk chalk to decorate the concrete pad beneath the house where they're staying. 

Can you tell they're related? I teared up when I saw this. What a magical and important time they're all having together. I know that part of my yearning for Vero Beach is related to Jessie and Vergil taking this trip to be with Vergil's family on the beach. When I was a child and we stayed in Vero, it was usually with my mother's brothers and their wives and children. Even though I was quite young when these vacations started, I remember. There was magic involved and not the least of it was that my mother seemed happy for once. She was with her beloved big brothers and I know that must have meant so much to her. There was a sense of safety and of connection in those visits with my cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents all right there on the Atlantic together and there was always a pool and the ocean and the sand and the smell of suntan lotion (there was no sunscreen then- it was either Sea'n'Ski or Coppertone) and the days were endless and happy. My uncles were jolly and I, fatherless, fell in love with them. 

So. Unlike my dreams, no real mystery there. 

And I am so glad that August and Levon are at a beach with so many people who love them. 

I guess that's about it. 

Y'all be well. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Shelling Peas And Memories Of Another Kind Of Terror Than The One We're Living Through Now

That is approximately six or seven Netflix-streamed episodes of "The Office" worth of pea shelling. In that bowl are two different varieties of peas and some of them, as you can see, are dried and brown because they stayed on the vine too long but they cook up fine. 
Here's a close-up. 

The green-bean looking pieces are what we call snaps. They were picked a bit too early and their peas are immature and although you CAN shell (or shuck) them, sometimes we just snap off the ends and then snap the little beans into pieces. They are good like that too. Here's a really close close-up with a quarter for scale. They are quite small. 

Ten to the quarter or so? Something like that. Shelling them is indeed time-consuming but as a mindless chore to be done while watching TV, a pleasant task. And they are delicious. So it's worth it all the way around. I did get quite a few ant bites while picking yesterday but that's just the way it is. 

Isn't this exciting?

I knew you'd think so. 

When I went to Costco today, I asked the sweet guy in the liquor store if he'd done anything exciting lately. He said that no, he was just trying to keep his head above water, working, and not much else. He asked me if I'd done anything exciting lately. I said, "Coming to Costco is about the most exciting thing in my life lately. So to me, you're living the dream, buddy!" 
He laughed. But Kevin is quick to laugh. He's just a nice man. 

I went to Publix too. We were out of bananas. And almost out of limes. Danger, danger, Will Robinson! More bananas have appeared on my bloom but they won't be ripe for quite awhile. One must have bananas. And limes. Of course I managed to find about a hundred dollars' worth of other stuff to buy, too. As always. 

Besides that stuff, there's been little else. It's been raining again, on and off. It is, of course, the anniversary of 9/11. We all have so many memories of that day. That morning in particular. I was with Lon and Lis. Lis had had her appendix out and Lon and I had gone to fetch her from the hospital and the TV was on in the room and she pointed at it and said, "Look what's happening," and none of us could comprehend it and when we got in the car to go back to Gatorbone, Bob Edwards was on NPR and trying to make sense of it all for us and no one really understood what was going on but his voice was so calm and I still appreciate that. Then came the the other destructions and the endless loops of the devastating disaster videos and I drove home across the state, the sky empty of planes, my mind empty of answers, just knowing I had to get home to my children, my husband. 
It is still unimaginable after all this time. And yet, more people have died now from Covid than they did on that day of terror. 

I have no way to tie any of this up in a neat square knot. It's impossible. So I'll just say that it's Friday. Maurice is tormenting me by trying to walk across my keyboard as I write, rubbing her back on my chin. I think she may actually be mellowing a bit in her old age. She seeks out Mr. Moon when he is in his chair and yes, she still growls when he moves but she's not as apt to grab with her terrible claws and bite with her terrible fangs. Time has had its way with her just as it has with everything including me and you and our memories of that day when planes crashed and people died in the most horrible of ways. We haven't forgotten and those of us who were here will never forget and I still weep when I think of all of the pictures people posted of their missing loved ones, when I think of the heroes and the innocent who are gone. 

Well. On that cheerful note I believe I will ask my man to make me a martini. "Olives or pickled green beans?" I will ask him. And I'll make supper and we will eat it and the rain will continue to fall and we will sleep on clean sheets and sleep as if the world was a safe place, a good place, which may be true here and there for a moment or so but then change on a dime, on a whim, on a breeze, and yet, we go on as if we had no idea because that's what you have to do. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

 

Just Strange, Strange Times

 

Well, dear Steve Reed told me how to make my pictures the size I want them and I am grateful to him for his advice. That extremely tropical-looking thing there is my banana bloom and I think those little green things are the actual bananas. Here's a shot from right underneath. 

I am so intrigued by this flowering and the fruit. 

When I got up this morning Mr. Moon had already gone to town. He had a scheduled physical at 8:45 and then he had things to do in town. A long, long list of things which he didn't finish up until just a little while ago. But all of his bloodwork came back good and he is a healthy boy and I am happy. 

About that, at least. 

I am struggling somewhat these days. It's probably Covid-related but it actually feels more like just a continuation of how I've felt for most of my life which is slightly depressed and when I feel that I've felt this way for most of my life I have to realize that yes, it is most likely depression although I would have to say that it's a mild sort. Not a snapping, foaming-at-the-mouth, pawing-to-get-in-the-door black dog sort of depression. More of a sleeping beast on the porch who raises his head and growls occasionally, showing me his fangs just to keep me in line. I didn't walk this morning. I have no excuse. I just didn't want to. When I feel this way every thing seems to take all of my energy, even the smallest things. And I only did the smallest things although I picked more field peas and while I was picking rain started coming down, first just in slow, big fat drops, and after I was done and inside, it came down more seriously. I've spent most of the day sitting on the couch and shelling those peas and watching the last season of "The Office" and I am grieving for when it's over entirely and I don't know what I'll have to look forward to in terms of a simple pleasure that sometimes makes me laugh. 

Lily sent me these pictures though, which cheered me. 

Her text read, "Maggie making faces to showcase her glitter fabulousness."

The child is so beautiful. Even without her ringlets. Every time I see her short hair I have a moment of silence for those curls but then I think of the story Gibson told about how, after she'd cut her hair and all was still in chaos, he happened upon the shorn glory in the bathroom and shouted, "I FOUND THE HAIR!" and I laugh a little. 

I also think about Maggie when she was just a wee tot, still crawling and we were at Melissa's shop, getting haircuts and Maggie crawled over to the chair where her mama was sitting and that woman-baby picked up locks of hair on the floor and held them to her head as if trying to stick them on so that she, too, would have long lovely hair. 

Remember when she looked like this? 

It's hard to believe there was ever a time when Magnolia was a bald-headed baby. But she was the most adorable bald-headed baby in the world. 

Okay. I may be prejudiced. 

Don't you love Hank's typewriter tattoo? 

It's raining again. I just about burned a loaf of sourdough. I mean, it's on the edge. I don't know what's wrong with me. My pizza dough last night just would not cooperate. I've made pizza hundreds of times and this was the worst. I made two pies and this one insisted on being  heart-shaped. 

Sort of. At least it tasted okay and as you can see, had plenty of vegetables. 

I don't even know what to say about Trump these days. It would appear that he's flying off the rails and that new things are revealed daily showing what a horrible, lying, asshat piece of shit he is. I keep wondering if all of the people who think that Coronavirus is a hoax are re-thinking their positions with the knowledge that Trump lied to them. 

I doubt it. 

I can't even begin to discuss his using the DOJ to defend him in a rape case. 

Let's see what tomorrow brings. May the gods help us. 

Love...Ms. Moon

 

I wanted that picture to be bigger, not because it's a great picture. It isn't. I sort of took it by accident while trying to get the darting sulphur butterfly that was sipping from the little orange flowers but I didn't manage to snap her. And dammit, here I am complaining again about new blogger because my pictures' sizes are all messed up. I was on my walk when I passed the flowers. Wildflowers are growing all down the side of the road, not great clumps or blankets of them but enough for the butterflies to be happy about them and as I watched this morning, two more of the sulphurs climbed high into the air in a whirling dance, and I would assume that mating was on their minds. 
I walked down to the gate on the ranch where the cows and a few horses and the one sheep live which makes my walk three miles and that was enough for me. Although the air is a bit dryer it is still hot and I came home drenched and then later, when I went back outside to do some yard work and clean the hen house, I immediately began to sweat again and within half an hour I was done, not with what I had hoped to get accomplished but with the heat. I got so testy with my husband when he asked me a simple question that he asked me most kindly if there was something he could do for me or if he'd done something that was making me angry and I apologized and reassured him that it was the heat, not him and I finished up the job I was doing and came inside. I just cannot handle the heat anymore and that is not a terrific thing for a woman who lives in North Florida.

One of the things I did do when I was outside was to pick what I swear to GOD has to be the last of the green beans. This is like Cher's many "last tours." I've snapped them and they will be cooked and then dressed warm with a shallot vinaigrette for our supper tonight. 

I'm also making pizza, inspired, I suppose, by Mr. Pudding's recent recounting of his pizza supper. 

Mary Wharton and her film made the front page of the Tallahassee Democrat today along with her talented daddy. I just can't wait to watch the movie. You can go to this link to stream it if you want.  
We will definitely be doing that. 

I am feeling a great deal of longing these last few days, especially for Vero Beach and the Atlantic Ocean and staying in a beachside motel. I miss the hiss of the waves hitting the shore, the sense of endlessness and vastness as I look out over the Atlantic while watching the sunrise in the morning. All of this is probably ridiculous because I seriously doubt that there are any beachside motels left. It's probably all condos now. For some reason though, my memories of the times I've stayed there are fierce and sharp now. I want to smell the salt and walk the same beaches I walked as a child where my granny would walk with me and my grandfather would always say, "Mother, you're going to get your dress wet," and she'd say, "No I won't," and she always did, the sudden, sly waves coming up to drench her hem. Because she had lost her hearing at an early age, her balance was off and her tiny feet would leave tipsy footprints in the wet sand. I want to find shells and look for shark's teeth and the gold doubloons of pirates' treasure. I want to see the sea grapes and listen to the gossipy whisper of the Australian pines. I want to immerse my body in the holy, warm, amniotic waters of the Atlantic Ocean. 
Is it because I've not been anywhere for so long? Is it because it's fall? Is it because I am growing older? 
I don't know. 
But it's a real yearning. 

Aw well. I am grateful to have memories. I pray that time does not rob me of those. And in the meantime, I will content myself with this place in this time, and try to remember to be grateful. 

Here's a picture of Mary Wharton and sweet Jimmy Carter.

I swear. That girl hasn't changed a bit. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Home Girl Making It In The Film Industry. Plus- Jelly News

 First let me say that the gumbo I made last night was delicious. I'd never made gumbo in my life! I guess I always thought you had to be a tenth-generation Cajun to make good gumbo or at least be infused with some sort of mystical power and know the properties of plants and herbs found nowhere in the world but deep in the swamps of Louisiana. 
Turns out that although I'm neither of those things and I'm not sure my gumbo was what you'd call authentic, my gumbo sure wasn't bad. I made my first real roux, which is what had always scared me away from gumbo. THAT process did seem like magic to me. Mixing a fat and flour to make a thickening agent is something I can do in my sleep but to cook it long enough to have it turn dark, shiny brown without burning it? 
Daunting. 
But I did it and the rest was not very hard. Making the roux wasn't very hard either and despite the fact that some recipes say you have to stir that roux for forty minutes or so, mine darkened in the most lovely way in about ten minutes. So. Don't believe everything you read. And honestly, don't believe everything you believe. 

I had an appointment to get my teeth cleaned this morning. I've been putting it off forever. When I made an appointment for September way, way back in June I had no idea that Covid would still be affecting our lives so profoundly. And I could have canceled and rescheduled but I just wanted to get it out of the way and I have an almost neurotic fear of developing some sort of horrible tooth problem without knowing it so off I went to the office where I had to sign a form which made me feel after reading it as if I was definitely going to get Covid from getting my teeth cleaned and that I was signing away my rights to sue them. 
Whatever. Sometimes you just have to throw caution to the winds.
My teeth and gums are fine. I have stellar dental health. Now let's hope I don't come down with the virus. Tallahassee is not a very healthy place to be right now. Between August 2 and September 4, there were over 850 cases of confirmed Coronavirus at FSU. That's students, facility, and staff. That doesn't even sound possible. And yet, it is. I fear so much for Lily and May who both work with the public in grocery stores. Lily's Publix doesn't have that many students as regular shoppers but it has some and of course the virus does spread from one population to another and May works at the Co-op where a lot of students do shop. 
May they be safe. Please.

After I came home I decided to tackle that jelly again. I poured it all out and went through the steps I listed yesterday and discovered that some of it had gelled a bit. But I just boiled it all down some more and added a little more sugar and more Sure Jell and it's so pretty

and it really tastes nice so I decided to go pick some more beauty berries in the yard and make another batch while I was at it. So I did. 

That's all of it right there. Jars and lids sterilized, end product processed in the canner. I hope it's fitten, as they say, to put on biscuits. I may or may not ever make beauty berry jelly again but I have now done it. 

Two gustatory firsts in one week for me! 

I know I've spoken here before about the musician Bill Wharton, aka The Sauce Boss, and how he was the second person I met in Tallahassee in 1974 and how he and his wife Ruthie took me under their wing when I desperately needed a wing to be put under and when I met them, they had two little girls, Annie and Mary. Annie was four, I think, and Mary was three. Those beautiful little elfin hippie babies grew up to be the most amazing women. Annie lives in LA and works in the art business and Mary lives in NYC and produces films. Her latest film is getting all sorts of acclaim. Won a bunch of awards at the LA Film Festival including Best Picture. Her daddy, Bill, also won one for musical score. The name of the film is Jimmy Carter: Rock and Roll President and I cannot wait to see it. Here's the trailer. 

Y'all! It looks amazing! And from what I've read, it's a film that has great resonance in our time, right now. I don't know how most of you feel about Jimmy Carter but I loved that man. Still do. I mean- how can you not? I'm not going to say he was the best president we've ever had but I will say that he was quite possibly the best man we've ever had as president. 

So anyway, I'm very excited about that and I can't begin to tell you how incredibly proud of Mary I feel. I can't really say I'm surprised she's achieved the honors she's receiving or that she chose the career she chose. I can remember distinctly sitting on the front steps of the Wharton's house way, way back even before Carter was president, listening to Mary tell me about a movie she'd seen. Even at the age of four or five she had a director's eye. She told me about every scene, every plot twist. It went on for longer than the movie probably had. And her parents raised her in a house that was full of music and art and goofy hippieness and absolute love and acceptance. I feel lucky to have been a witness to that. It helped inform me as to how I wanted to raise my own kids. 

It's raining. I'm going to go dump the water out of the canning kettle and clean up the last of my jelly-making mess and heat up the leftover gumbo. It's been a better day than yesterday was. At least it has been since I got out of the dentist's office. 

And let me say that Bill Wharton has become known for making a huge pot of gumbo on stage as he plays and has fed countless people who have come to hear the blues. His charity is called Planet Gumbo and he has played at many, many homeless shelters, made gumbo, and fed the folks in more ways that one. 

Love...Ms. Moon

 Things I do not like about the new blogger:

1. The font size gets all wonky no matter how you set it.
2. The pictures aren't the right size. (This could be my fault.)
3. Unless you do the shift-return thing, it's gonna double-space you. At least part of the time.
4. I guess that's all. 

All righty then. Update on the jelly. 
It's not jelly. It's not even syrup. And if I want to save any of the efforts  that have gone into picking, mashing, stirring, cooking, and sterilizing, I need to pour all of the purple juice from their jars, wash and re-sterilize the jars, and boil and boil and boil the purple juice with more Sure Jell and possibly more sugar and then pour it all back into jars when it has (hopefully) thickened and put them all back in the canner.
But why not? What else have I got to do? 

Today's been a rough one for me. Feeling low and useless. My walk didn't help. Hanging clothes on the line didn't help. Watering plants in the garden didn't help. Sweeping and mopping (twice!) the kitchen and bathroom didn't help. The lingering smell of Fabuloso and white vinegar which I usually love isn't helping. I made a roux for gumbo. Not helping. I've got bread rising. Not helping. I gathered I don't even know how many eggs. No help whatsoever. I did the Monday Washington Post crossword in nine minutes. Guess what?
Didn't help. 

This picture that Lily sent helps a little though.

Magnolia is swinging her pet caterpillar. That girl may turn out to be the next Jane Goodall. Or maybe Steve Irwin. Only she won't get pierced in the heart by a sting ray. Just pierced in the heart by her love of animals. 

And honestly, there's not a thing wrong. I mean, you know- besides a world-wide pandemic and the fact that our planet is literally burning up and also the fact that we have a president with the worst case of sociopathic narcissism the world has ever seen who is determined to wreck what's left of the earth (I mean, Nero may have fiddled while Rome burned but Trump plays golf while the world burns), become richer, get re-elected by any means necessary for four more years so that he can stay out of prison, destroy Democracy and become Emperor of the Universe and secret on-the-down-low lover of Putin. I'd say Kim Jong-un too, but rumor has it he's dead although I would not, at this point, rule out necrophilia as one of Trump's sexual proclivities. 

Know what I mean? 

To be honest, I have nothing to complain about. I may well be the luckiest woman in the world and we all know it. Not only do I have everything in the material world a person could want, I am rich in what really matters which is love. To give and to receive. 

Hell, I even realized today that six weeks after a pretty damn severe accident, I am just about back to where I was before I fell. 

And yet. 

Some days are just hard. That's the way it is. That's being human. Some days the memories and the dreams and the state of the world and all of the realities of what has been and what could have been and the losses of the friends and the regrets that usually stay small just loom large. 

Tomorrow will be better. 

And I'm going to boil the hell out of that beauty berry juice and create something biscuit-worthy or know the reason why. 

Maybe. 

And here's something that makes my heart swell. 

That's a picture of my May that her friend Django Bohren took when she was eighteen years old and a student at New College in Sarasota. Dear god, what a beauty. And you know what? She is every bit as beautiful now as she was then, only more so because of everything she's been through, everything she's learned and loved. 

Everything's gonna be all right. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Beauty Berry Day

Well, I feel now as if I am a true Florida woman. Not the kind of Florida woman who gets cranked on bath salts and shoves an alligator into the shower with her cheatin', snaggle-toothed man. 

Not yet, anyway. 

No. I'm the kind of Florida woman who can make beauty berry jelly. Because I have done it. Lily and Lauren and the kids did at least fifty percent of the work by picking all those berries and let me just say- I made a double recipe and still have enough for another batch. However, I only bought two boxes of Sure-Jell which is a thickener for making jams and jellies and I have used them both. Also? I think I may have enough beauty berry jelly. I think it's going to taste okay but I don't think it's going to be THE BEST THING EVER PUT ON A BISCUIT! 
In the picture above I have cleaned the berries of stems and leaves (mostly) and am mashing them with my bean masher. Twelve cups of beauty berries. Which is a lot. You cook them with a lot of water, mashing as many as you can, and boil that for twenty minutes. Then you strain the resulting liquor and measure it back into a pot. You bring that back to a boil, add the Sure-Jell and about fourteen tons of sugar and cook it for two minutes and then fill your sterilized jars. They go back into the canning kettle and you process them for ten minutes and this is what I got. 

Two pints and eight half-pints. If you hold a jar up to the light, it looks like this.

I've never used a thickening agent in making jams or jellies before but I take it that beauty berries are what they call a "low pectin" fruit. Apples are a very high pectin fruit. Pectin is the substance which makes jelly and jam thick instead of syrupy. Sure-Jell is powdered fruit pectin. So there you go. Your science lesson for the day. 

As always, simply seeing nice jars filled with something I made is a reward in and of itself. And now, when the beauty berries arrive every year I won't have to wonder if I could make jelly out of them. I will know I could. 

And who knows? The jelly may be so good that I'll want to make more. We shall see. 

Jessie and Vergil stopped by on their way out of town today. The boys were strapped into their seats with books at their sides and with new water bottles which they proudly showed me and Bop. August's is Spider Man themed and Levon's has some sort of Frozen decoration on it. I went through a whole little animated speech about how their Grandma and aunt and uncle are going to say, "Who are these big boys? Vergil and Jessie, where are August and Levon?" August looked at me in fascination. Like maybe I was an alien who didn't understand human growth and age. They're actually all meeting up with the Mountain Family on Oak Island for some beach time all together before they head over to Black Mountain. I know they're going to have the best time. Tonight they're staying in Savannah and Jessie just sent this picture. 

TV WATCHING! FROM BED! 

What could possibly be better? I'm sure that this is already the best vacation ever. 

I had to make a quick run to Publix to get my Sure Jell and ended up buying half the store. Why does this always happen? I'm still shopping for a pandemic, I guess. I got to see Lily and that was lovely except of course for the fact that I couldn't hug her. Publix has gotten rid of its aisle direction arrows and I'm not sure why. Probably because no one obeyed them. I'll have to discuss this with my daughter who will know. 

Meanwhile, here we still are. I just skimmed an article from Rolling Stone entitled "How Keith Richards Is Spending His Quarantine" where he talked about staying home, wearing a mask when he does go out. He said, "Oh yeah, I’m a masked man. I mean, it’s what you have to do. I don’t care what it looks like or anything else. It’s ridiculous. This is bloody Alice in Wonderland, you know?"

Bless him. 

Bless us all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. I just checked my jelly and if that stuff doesn't do a little bit of gelling, it's going to be nothing but beauty berry flavored, very sweet juice. At this point, I'm just hoping for syrup. 

Damn This Virus. Etc.

 I just realized today that one of my bananas has set a bloom. I think that last year was the first year that ever happened and I've been disappointed that it didn't seem to be happening again this year but there you go. My bananas would be happier with more sun but they get plenty of fertilizer. I throw my kitchen scraps beneath them and the chickens scratch and eat and poop and what scraps they don't want, eventually compost and that's probably the richest dirt in the yard. 

The day did not start out terrifically well. Mr. Moon and I started talking about having the boys over tonight or tomorrow night and he started really worrying about having been exposed to someone whose son has tested positive. She hasn't been around her son, but she has been around his daughter. She didn't tell Glen this until they'd been chatting for a little bit outside and not close up, but it freaked him out and the more he thought about it, the less he wanted to risk even that slight possibility of transmitting the virus to August and Levon and their family and the North Carolina family and so, he thought it best not to let the boys come spend the night until he's sure he doesn't have it. 

I know he's right. And Jessie agreed. But it just hurt my soul and my husband's too, not to be able to have our stayover with those boys. To adopt them, as it were, for a night and a pancake breakfast. And for awhile, I was rather overcome with sadness but then Lily texted and asked if we'd like a back-yard visit. She wanted to bring over some beauty berries that they picked in their yard for me to try and make jelly with and of course I agreed to the visit and the beauty berries. I've always read that you can make jelly with them but I've never so much as seen a jar, much less tasted any. 

And they did come over and brought their lunch and we all sat out back and chatted. Lauren came too and they brought Pepper whom Owen is teaching tricks to. That dog is pretty smart, I have to say. 

She had to be on the leash the whole time she was here because she was just way too interested in the chickens. 

Here she is keeping Handsome Gibson tethered to his chair. Who's restraining who? 

Magnolia ran to the hen house, first thing, as she always does. She loves being in the chicken coop more than I can begin to understand. And then she wanted me to go get her the little farm to play with on the back porch steps. Mr. Moon went and got it for her and she was happy. 

There she is, saying "cheese", as hot and red-checked as the last time she was here. She played quietly by herself for at least forty-five minutes. Lily says she plays alone with her dolls and doll house for hours in her room. She's like Gibson in that she makes up her own stories and plots for her dolls and animals to follow. I find this vastly fascinating and wonderful. Their imaginations are big enough to keep them occupied and interested for hours on end and if that's not fabulous, I do not know what is. 

Eventually they had to go and I started simmering the chicken skeleton I had left after I made roast chicken and chicken enchiladas along with two frozen boneless, skinless breasts I had, to make chicken and dumplings. I had planned this meal for when the boys came over because August loves chicken and dumplings so much. That's what I made when we were all on Black Mountain last summer and I think he associates the dish with the joyful fun we had there. So I'm a little sad again, thinking about how he and Levon won't be here to eat it but their grandfather loves chicken and dumplings too, so it'll be fine. 

Lis was going through some pictures this morning and sent me this one.

That was taken about twenty-five years ago or so. She'd talked me into working the hospitality tent with her at a festival. Of course, she was playing too. We served up food and drinks and kept the coffee pot filled for people like Vassar Clements who'd long been an idol of mine, and Bela Fleck and a whole lot of other people I can't remember now. Anything I've ever done with Lis has been fun and she's forced me out of my comfort zone many times and never once have I regretted it. In fact, she's made my life so much richer with her gentle urgings. I mean...I went to CUBA with that woman. And oh, we had the best time. When Lis sent me the picture I texted back, "Oh god we were cute!" and we were. I still have that dress. I'll probably have it until the day I die because I love it so much. The fact that it hasn't fit me in about fifteen years makes no difference whatsoever. It is a Mary dress and as such, it will stay in Mary's closet. 

So that's been my day. Sadness, nostalgia, sweetness with my grandchildren and daughter, surprise at finding a banana bloom. Laughter at dog tricks and smiles for a little girl who likes to hang out in the chicken coop and who can create her own world and live in it with a Fisher Price toy. 

And there has been love. Sometimes I get overwhelmed with the love and I feel like my heart might burst. 

Well. I better go snap some beans and chop some celery and carrots. My chicken and dumplings have ALL the ingredients in them. I'd say my grandmother would have the vapors if she saw my chicken and dumplings but my grandmother was a yankee and didn't know chicken and dumplings from boiled cabbage and light bread. But someone's grandmother would have the vapors. 

My friend Kathleen's mother told her to always keep an airplane sized bottle of gin in her purse just in case of the vapors which has made me wonder what in hell the vapors really are. Perhaps they are hot flashes. Perhaps they are anxiety attacks. 

Whatever whatever they are, keeping a small bottle of gin in one's purse to drink if one should have them sounds like a wise idea to me. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Friday. Again?

 Our across-the-street neighbors have it going on with their Biden sign and we need to get one too. I had noticed that our next door neighbor had one about a month ago but then it disappeared. It has been replaced, however, with what appears to be a sheet which has been tied between his porch posts with the word "Biden" written in what looks to be green paint in huge letters. His original sign must have gotten stolen. This pisses me off if it's true because I've had to walk by my other side next door neighbors' infuriating Trump sign for four years now. Every time, and I mean every time I pass it, it takes all of my self-control not to try and run my walking stick through it or at least knock it over. I did thump it the other day out of sheer meanness. 
I wonder what they think about Trump's reputed comments calling American war dead "losers and suckers". I imagine that they will hear about this as even Fox news is admitting it's true. I also wonder what Fox will have to say about this. Remember how they tore up Obama for NOT WEARING A FLAG PIN, for not saluting a Marine, and for wearing a light-colored suit? 
Wouldn't it be a glorious thing if the comment he made about dead soldiers was the thing that broke the back of his presidency? I mean, it's one thing to have him on tape saying "grab them by the pussy" but it's another to know he called people who fought and died losers and suckers.

To some people, anyway. 

It has been a slow, slow Friday. Truthfully, I haven't felt that well and I lazed around all day long. Mr. Moon, after putting another morning's worth of work in the woods in, has lazed a bit too. I actually laid down on the bed and read some of the book I'm reading, A Land Remembered, and then fell asleep. I haven't slept during the day in a long time. The book, by Patrick D. Smith is quite well-known in Florida as the definitive novel on early Florida pioneers and how some of those families became wealthy as hell. For years I've thought I should read it and I even started it a time or two but I just couldn't get past the first few chapters. The writing isn't the best and compared to Marjorie Kinnan Rawling's books, it's a disappointing effort. But I'm finally reading it now and although I still find the writing disappointing, I'm managing to stay fairly engaged. I'm trying to ignore what I find disturbing or obnoxious about it and just go with the story which is interesting. The particular family he writes about makes its original fortune by herding and pasturing the wild cows that were the descendants of the original Spanish cattle and selling them to be shipped to Cuba. Then they began to buy land which was ridiculously cheap. On the face of it, not a bad book but the descriptions of Black characters and Seminole characters are often cliched stereotypes although the author does paint them in a positive light. 

I'm not a good book reviewer. 

In other reading material, we got a card from August today with a surprise sloth in it! 

That boy does love a sloth. 

And here are his words. My favorite part of course is, "I am looking forward to being adopted by you, Mermer and Boppy." That family is heading up to North Carolina on Monday and it will be weeks before we see them. We may get to have them over on Sunday night for a "stayover" as August calls it, and their mom and dad can pack the car and pick them up on their way out of town for their big adventure. It is definitely long-past time for Vergil to see his family and for the boys to visit with their mountain family. This pandemic has screwed up every damn thing. 

Here's another hurricane lily that I discovered in the yard today. 

That one is full-bloomed. Every year they charm and amaze me with their delicate, reaching stamens. They are a folly and a fancy and they only last for a day or two. I love them. 

Mr. Moon is about to make us a martini. We're going to have a quarantini call with Lon and Lis and tonight's supper is going to be leftover enchiladas which were quite fine. I have no avocado or cilantro to top them but they'll do. I line-dried the sheets today and am looking forward to their sweet crispness tonight. The sun is going down, the magnolia leaves are shiny, shining mirrors of reflected light. 

It just occurred to me that I am not Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings either. I suppose there are many of us who write the story of Florida as it was, as it is. Not as the butt of a joke, but as a love story of sorts, even as there is so much about it that is hard or crazy or tacky or desperately sad. We love what we love, even the imperfections, and some of us have taken Florida as our lover and forgive her much, loving her for the wildness within her which surrounds and sustains us. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

 Well, there you go. That's your picture for today. I really, really need to get a life. 
It's a pineapple plant that I grew from the top of a pineapple and in theory, it should grow a pineapple but as with everything in my world, or at least my yard, it does not get enough sun. Still, it makes a rather stunning potted plant, don't you think? 
And that is my household tip of the day- buy a pineapple with the top on, cut off the top leaving about half an inch of the fruit attached, stick that sucker in some dirt and water it when you think about it or more frequently than that if you don't think about your plants very often. 

Here's another tip of the day: do NOT make enchilada sauce with peppers, onions, chili powder, and garlic and then stick your finger in your eye. 
You may think that this requires further explanation. 
It does not. 
Just don't do that. 

I've seen my husband once today. That was when he came home to pick up some posthole diggers. He was gone before I woke up (don't worry, he informed me last night that he was going to leave early) and he left me a lovely sweet note and he did call me to report on his doings. He's at his new hunting place with two or three other guys, one in his seventies, and one in his eighties so he feels like the young'un of the group. They are doing something with deer stands and feeders and hell-if-I-know. But they are in the woods, they are doing woodsy things, and there was fried chicken for lunch so you know he's a happy, happy man. 
He told me that the seventy-something year old guy told him that whatever the eighty-something year old guy says, you just do it. I believe the quote went something like, "There's only one way to do something and that's Odell's way."
So my husband is learning a little patience and also trying to learn how to make suggestions in such a way that Odell believes he came up with the idea in the first place. 
As I said, he did come home for one red-hot second to pick up the posthole diggers and he came in and gave me a kiss and then was gone again. I hope he makes it back home for supper. 

Speaking of red-hot, I just tasted the enchilada sauce and I may have put a little too much chili powder in it. Dang. No wonder my eye is scarlet.

I've had a normal day. I took a walk. I noticed that No Man Lord has added the word "Don't" to his All Lives Matter sign making it say, "Don't All Lives Matter?" He really does think about these things. I admire that in him. It was hot as hell out there today and walking was just this short of torturous. When I was getting close to home on my return, I saw the man who gets along in a powered wheel chair in his wheel chair, gunning it down the left side of the road followed closely by a friend of his on a bicycle. We waved and said, "Hey!" and I said, "How y'all doing?"
"Just trying to make it, baby. Just trying to make it," said the man in the wheelchair. He lives right across the street from No Man Lord but I do not know his name. 
I can't tell you how much I love being called "Baby" by elderly gentlemen and I am not being sarcastic. I really do. 

I hung the clothes on the line. Now isn't that exciting? 
No. No it is not and I didn't even enjoy it that much because I was still hotter than Satan's armpit (that's more polite than what I usually say) from my walk. But hopefully the towels will smell better. 
I went to take another picture of the hurricane lily but something ate it in the night. Or else it went back through the alien portal from which it came. 
To my delight I found another hole in the old dress I'm patching, giving me another excuse to sit on the couch and do funky embroidery. So I did. I am still watching "The Office" but slowly...slowly...slowly. I do not want it to end. Of course, as all things must do, it will end eventually. One of these days I will probably look back fondly on the time when I was healing from my fall when I wore one of three dresses every day, wore my hair down because it was easy and didn't annoy me in the chair where I sat with a cat and pillows, and watched episode after episode of "The Office." 
Who am I kidding? I already look back on that fondly. At least the part where the original agonizing pain had diminished. Now I have to have an excuse to sit and watch TV during the day. I guess being heat-stroked after a walk is excuse enough. Whatever. 

OH! I forgot the big news! I ordered a new pair of walking shoes online. I hope they feel okay. They're Saucony's, which I have been wearing since 1980, so maybe. This is what the shoes I'm walking in now look like. 

They're as shit beat as I feel most of the time. Plus, they've always been a half size too small. I have high hopes for the new ones. 

And that's life in Lloyd today. We laughed, we cried, we stuck our finger in our eye. 
We lived. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Growth, Hopefully

 There's the hurricane lily today. I've seen another shoot and soon there will be plenty more. 

The firespike by the front gate is finally blooming. I'm proud of those. I rooted every one of them during winters and planted them in spring and now they line the fence in the front of my yard. 

Been a lot of sadness in my family today. A friend of Rachel's and of Lily and Lauren's died and no one is sure about the circumstances. 

And all three of the little rats that Owen just adopted have died. They must have been sick at the pet store and that's hard for the kids. I'm not equating the death of rats to the death of a person but sadness is sadness, grief is grief. Boppy pointed out that they would have died at the pet store but instead, got to have a few days of glorious luxury and love before they went, and I hope that made the kids feel better. 

For me, personally, things have been fine. I decided not to walk today. My ribs were a tiny bit achey and why push it? It's been six weeks exactly since I fell and all of the websites and my doctor, too, agree that six weeks is how long it takes to heal a broken rib and by golly, they're all correct. So I've just been doing lazy things although I did clean out the hen house. Fifteen hens and two roosters sure do poop a lot but I look at that as fertilizer and am grateful for it. There's just not a lot about chickens that I don't admire. 

Hank came out for a little visit and it was good to see him. I'm so proud of that man. He's doing his trivia online and doing okay with it. He's also designing flyers as a side hustle. For someone who's self-employed, he's making it work. And Rachel has started her classes for the MSW program at FSU she got into. It's all online now, I think, and that does not make it easier. 

Nothing is easy right now and everything is different. I've been quite content to live my life in an even smaller way than I did before but that's not possible for most people and even I desperately miss hugging and holding my loved ones. And of course, as the election draws nearer I become more and more terrified, fearing as so many of us do that the damage already done will be almost impossible to repair and that if that man is elected for four more years, it will be impossible and our country will not be recognizable. 

I'm keeping this short today. I have nothing new to say, nothing profound to discuss. 

Here we are. We are making our way through uncharted territory the best we can, discovering things about ourselves that we never had the time to ponder, realizing that a great deal of our lives have been spent doing things that really did not make us happy or perhaps, we have been able to define and refine exactly what has made us happy. What does make us happy. What happiness actually means. 

Here's a question- what have you discovered about yourself and your life that you never would have known before 2020? I would be interested to know. The positive and the negative. 

Meanwhile, let us try to be at peace with all of it. 

Love...Ms. Moon

What's It All Mean, Mr. Natural? Part Four Thousand, Eight Hundred and Twelve

 I did not take one dang picture today but there's a picture of my O-Boy that I stole from Lily's Facebook post with pictures of all the kids on their first day of school. He looks so much like his mama that it astounds me. Can you believe he's going to be eleven soon? Somehow, as impossible as that is, it's even more unbelievable to me that he was ever the darling little baby boy I took care of and loved and sang to and played with and told stories to and read books to. I remember feeling this way about my children as they grew. Like- Who came and stole my babies and replaced them with these kids?

I just went back to the year Owen was born and found this picture. 

Owen looked amazed and bewildered and I looked cute. Lord, I had no idea how cute I was a mere eleven years ago. Owen was pretty cute too. He still is. He still very much is. 

So. Another exhausting day. I walked another two miles and then I went to Costco and Publix again because we'd run out of things that I consider essential like milk and Honey Nut Cheerios. That's what Mr. Moon eats for breakfast most weekdays. Also, I had two prescriptions to pick up at Publix. When I got in my car and started it, it informed me that the battery on my key was low and that I needed to replace it. 

Sigh. 

This car is too smart for me. I just discovered about two weeks ago that the screen which has all the information tells me which direction I'm driving in, which road I'm driving on, and what the speed limit is there. Now that part is amazing to me. And I really paid attention to it today as I was driving home from town down a little backroad where the speed limit goes from 55 to 45 to 30 when you're going through one of the bend-in-the-road communities and by golly, IT KNEW AND CHANGED EVERY TIME! HOW DOES IT KNOW? 

Should I find this creepy or magical? Or both? 

I have to admit that I sort of like that feature. You know how you'll be driving somewhere and suddenly you see cops and you check your speed limit and then you ask yourself, "What IS the speed limit here?" Well, now I know. 

The car also beeps in warning if I drive over either the left or right boundary. Boundary? What do you call that? Edge? Center line? Mr. Moon told me that I can turn that off but I sort of like it. It's a nice challenge to try to never to hear it beep. Another thing I like a lot is how it makes a fast beeping noise if I'm in reverse and there's anything moving behind me. So if I'm pulling out of a parking space and there are blind spots and a car is coming or a person is walking, it warns me which is great because now I'm an old person and I drive like one, especially when backing up when I drive about .05 mph so that if I do happen to hit something or someone, it won't damage or kill them. 

When you see someone driving low and slow and laugh about how old people drive, just remember that one of these days, if you're lucky, you will be that old person and you too, will sit low and you will drive slow because, well... I'm not sure. Mostly because you don't want to hurt anyone and that makes you overly cautious, I guess. That and not trusting yourself. 

I pulled up into a parking space today at Publix and a big old utility truck backed into a space nearby as quick and neat as can be imagined and I was more impressed than if the guy had flown in on a helicopter. Mr. Moon still backs into spaces and honestly, I've NEVER done that. Lily and I have a running joke about what bad parkers we are and it's true. We are. 

Boy, am I rambling tonight. 

At Costco I got to see my favorite employee whom I shall not name but she always wears beautiful mermaid eye make-up. We had a three minute conversation wherein we talked about how much we hate Trump and love Obama. I teared up but that's just me. I can't stand not being able to hug Brenda. We've had a hugging relationship for years and now we can't. 

FUCK TRUMP!

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him. Every day my anger and hatred for him get bigger and every day I realize that holding all of this anger and hatred are doing neither me nor the world any good. But I have to tell you- I am not an enlightened being. I sorta, kinda, maybe, maybe not, believe that we shouldn't put that sort of energy into the world but I also think that that's really not how it works. Sure, if you're constantly angry at everyone and everything, you make the lives of anyone around you miserable. That's a fact. But me sitting here thinking how much I hate Trump? Well, it might not be doing me any good but I seriously doubt the universe is going to be any worse off. Even writing about it and sending that out into the world isn't going to change a thing. These are just my feelings. 

As an extremely non-religious person, the idea of positive or negative energy just sounds way too much like the power of prayer to me and I'm not buying any of that. If you're a loving person, I can feel it no matter how much you can't stand the president. And if you're not a loving person, I don't care what you say, I'll be able to feel that too. 

Okay. I'm a cranky old mess today. I'll admit it. And I'll also admit that I don't know shit. How many times have I said that? 

About a billion. 

Of course, I do think I know some things but I'm willing to acknowledge that I could be wrong. 

I know how to cook shrimp. I'm fairly certain I'm not wrong about that. And now, I believe I shall go cook some. 

I apologize for the mess this post is. I think this is just one of those days where everything is catching up with me from the pandemic and how our country is handling it to whatever Trump said last that made me want to punch a wall. Or curl into a ball. 

Something. 

I should probably learn to meditate which I do believe has positive value because it's been proven. By science. 

Meanwhile, here I am. Being a royal, unenlightened bitch. 

Love...Ms. Moon