Meaning, Magic, Memory

 Damn, y'all. I'm in a funky slump when it comes to having anything interesting to write about. I mean- my life is so uneventful right now that I had a dream last night wherein I decided to get a job. I do not know what sort of a job it was that I was going to get but hopefully something like a librarian whose sole duties are checking out books, shelving books, and reading to small children because I am way too old to be contemplating anything like truck stop waitress or exotic dancer and besides, they tore down the truck stop so forget that. 

Now I realize, having said that, that the universe is probably going to have heard what I said via that Universe Magic and create some sort of disturbance in my peaceful little life which will create chaos and problems. I hope not. And actually, I no more believe in Universe Magic than I believe in The Power of Prayer but I do have my own weird and unexplainable superstitions, just like most of us. My theory is that in order not to feel like complete victims of fate, we humans devise ways with our busy brains to attempt to control something, anything, that is normally beyond our power to control and so we come up with religions where we can petition our gods with prayer, or placate them (gods are always in need of placating, aren't they?) with sacrifices or constant worship and praise or following the rules of whatever god we choose to believe in even if they make no sense and are, in fact, harmful to our souls and minds and so forth. And even if we aren't religious we often say things like, "I'm sending you good energy or good ju-ju or positive thoughts" and I just don't quite understand that either. And there are also those of us who believe that we can visualize positive things and thus create successful outcomes for ourselves and others and honestly, I don't see humans having that sort of ability and power. 
About the best I can do is to tell someone that I am thinking of them with love because I know I can do that and if there is anything that's holy and magic, love is definitely part of it. 

And all of this is not to say that I am not superstitious although when I catch myself being superstitious I laugh at myself and try to convince myself that I'm not, not really. And truly, for the most part I am quite happy with the sort of magic that comes from the everyday and prosaic things around me like sunrise, sunset, rain, trees, babies, the minds of children, sea monsters, and Keith Richards. 

Speaking of the minds of children, when we went to have lunch with Maggie the other day she said to me, as we were eating, "The thing I wonder about is where humans come from. They haven't taught us that yet in school."
Hoo-boy!
"Do you mean how humans came to be on this planet?" I asked her.
"Yes," she said. "Where did they come from?"
Well, since we only had about twenty more minutes I tried desperately to figure out how to explain evolution and how apes and humanoids split off from each other and so forth and so on in a way she would understand in a hundred words or less.
I do not think I was successful and she probably has some truly weird ideas now but I did emphasize that ultimately, we all came from Africa. 

Now if she had asked her other grandmother, I'm pretty sure she would have heard about Adam and Eve and the Garden of Eden which is a hell of a lot easier to explain and, for a child to accept and understand because it's such a neat and tidy story IF you don't start asking questions. 

Oh well. If there is one thing I know about Magnolia June, it is that she will question everything and that whatever she ends up believing, she will believe in it with certainty. This is the way she is. 

So I went to town today and had lunch with Jessie which was a joy, of course, and we did a short Costco run and then I went to the library and to Publix and then I stopped at the Bad Girls Get Saved By Jesus Thrift Store where I bought nothing, not so much as a saucer. And that was my big day. I drove home a back way down a road where I used to live with my first husband when Hank was a baby. We lived in a house that rented for $75 dollars a year (no shit) and it had primitive electricity but no running water. We had a pump out back and I washed dishes outside and we had an outhouse and as I have said many times, I am very glad I had the experience of living there because there were some things about it that were wonderful and beyond that, I will never, ever take running water or floors and walls that you can't see through for granted. That house burned down a long time ago when some asshole tried to run an AC in the bedroom which of course caused some major electrical problems. Somehow, no one died. 
But it was a trip down memory lane for me to drive that backroad. Some things have changed, some are still the same. Trailers have replaced some of the shacks, some of the land alongside the road has been cleared. But as I drove I remembered things and times and people from over forty years ago and some of that was good and some of it is still painful. 

And that's life. 
How did humans get here? Hell, don't ask me. I can barely tell you how I got here, living this life I lead now. 

Every day fall feels a little closer. And of course it is. I noticed yesterday that the Confederate Rose is putting out buds for its autumn glory blossoms, which is related to okra, hibiscus, swamp mallow, and a bush we call Rose of Sharon. There was one planted at Maggie's school and I pointed it out to her when we were walking to the cafeteria and I told her its name. 
"How do you know that?" she asked. 
"Well, I know a few things," I said. 
And I do. I've probably forgotten more than I remember but I do remember when I lived in that old house, a friend came out for lunch with her daughter who was about Hank's age and she brought me a Rose of Sharon in a pot to plant in the yard. I had made a tuna and pasta salad with whole wheat macaroni in it for us to eat. 
And for whatever reason that is something I will probably never forget. 

Humans are weird. And yet...here we are. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Now We Wait

So I planted the garden today. Mr. Moon had made me such well-delineated and cleared rows to plant in that it really wasn't hard although the heat just about killed me. I had to keep stopping and coming in the house to cool down. I just cannot take it the way I used to. BUT, before the day was done, I had planted carrots, mustard greens, collard greens, arugula, a kale mix, two different types of lettuce mixes, turnips, chard, broccoli, and the artichokes. 
I wonder what will and what will not come up. I also wonder if this is the year I will finally gird my loins and thin the rows the way I should. 

Yeah, probably not. 

And now I'm tired. Worn out. I've got nothing to report, no real news, good or bad. It's all just life today. Another day I've lived on the planet, another day closer to the day I won't be living on the planet. As much as I think I have been quite aware that one day I will stop living and really don't seem to be too concerned about that, it is shocking when I stop and think about the fact that if I get ten more good years it'll be something. Ten years goes by like a dream now, just whooosh, gone. And like most of us, probably, I hope that my death will be like that too- just a flash and then gone. Not even enough time to grasp what's happening. 
I should be so fortunate.

Anyway, here's a picture of Lucky whom I am 99% sure is a rooster. 

He hasn't crowed yet nor has he laid an egg so...

The other day when I went to let him and Grace out of the hen house, he sang a song several times that was pretty fancy. There were seven of the same notes, all in a row, and then three different ones. He repeated this, as I said, a few times, always exactly the same. I was quite impressed. I sang it to myself a few times and should have come in and figured it out on the piano. I could title that song, "Requiem for Liberace," whom I am quite certain is the father. 

Thunder is rumbling in the distance but I don't think we're going to get any rain which would have been so welcome to water in my seeds and get that process off to a good start. I'll water if it doesn't rain tomorrow. 

The red roses planted in the garden are still blooming. I'm not sure they ever really stop. I took this picture today while I was out kneeling in the dirt, getting ant bit and mosquito bit, and counting out tiny seeds to press into the ground, my faith at least as great as a the size of the mustard seeds, the proof of which is that I planted them. 

Love...Ms. Moon

I'm Crazy But Still A Fairly Decent Grandmother

I got a nice little visit from these two today. Jessie was at work and Vergil came out to do a little hunting season prep-work in the woods with Mr. Moon. August and Levon chose to stay here with me which pleased their old Mermer greatly, even though I am aware that what they mostly wanted was the possible opportunity to watch some TV. 
I showed them the new doll and they have named her. Her name shall be Lucy. This, too, pleases me as one of my favorite children's books is "Little Bear's Friend" and in that book, Little Bear meets a girl named Emily who has a beloved doll named Lucy. 

Lucy even has a bonnet! 
Perfect, as Kathleen used to say so often. 
In the picture above of August and Levon, they were eating cherries and the one August was eating seemed to have an extraordinarily large pit. Levon was checking it out. 

While they were here August built some Lincoln Log houses and we read some books and they ate a little lunch and then they got to watch some TV. 
It was fun. 

Before their visit, Mr. Moon and I got serious in the garden. I finished up the weeding and even pulled the rest of the okra and he raked and tilled some rows. I was only out there for about forty-five minutes but that was plenty for me. He worked longer than I did and was soaked through with sweat by the time he came in. I was a bit worried about seeing him and Vergil go off to do more outdoor things but soon after they left a rainstorm came up and they were home in record time. 

Glen will NOT listen to me when I tell him he's done enough for one day. He just won't. In fact, I feel fairly certain his last words will be, "I'll be fine. Stop worrying."

I've been cooking a pot of pinto beans and a ham bone with lots of meat on it since I started making breakfast this morning. I swear I think that was the Easter ham remnants and it's been in the freezer since then. I decided it was now or never and chose now because pinto beans with ham is my absolute choice for a Food of the Gods designation. I think I'll cook up the last few remaining okra with some onions and tomatoes to go with beans and I'll make a pot of rice. 
If that ain't a Sunday dinner, I do not know what is. 

So we ended up watching TWO movies yesterday. First the one I talked about in last night's post- "Me Time" and then, "The Beach Bum" which I had seen before with Jessie and wrote what I think was a pretty dang good review of what I thought about it HERE in 2019. I am not sure that even a dozen 

people ever saw this movie, much less liked it, much less loved it aside from me and Jessie, and I'm not sure she loved it as much as I did. But I've been wanting to see it again for three years now and would occasionally google it to see if it was available on a streaming service and finally, last night, I found it was on HBO max which we do have and I was so excited. 
You know what? I loved it again. 
Some people just really do not like Matthew McConaughey at all, ever, in anything he does. I am not one of the those people. 
And the role he played in "The Beach Bum" was as authentic and pulled out of the gut as his role in "Dallas Buyer's Club" was, in my opinion. I have known men like Moondog, his character in the movie, and everything from the hair to the hedonistic, trippy outlook on life, to the misuse and overuse of substances, the undeniable sexual charm, and the complete fucked-uppedness is familiar to me. 
I probably should not admit how much I love this movie because I am sure it says more about me than I'd like to say. It is a vastly flawed movie in many ways with as many unanswered questions on the second viewing as the first. It has butts and breasts, Jimmy Buffet, and Snoop Dogg in it. It has Richard Brautigan's poetry in it. It has Florida sunsets and seascapes. There is an abundance of drug use, tragedy, indefensible behavior, and absolutely ridiculously unsophisticated humor. 

All right. I'll shut up. I doubt any of you would want to see this movie. I have no idea why I love it. 
Here's a trailer but I am warning you- if substance abuse, sex, nudity, and Matthew McConaughey offend you, just DO NOT WATCH IT. 

Otherwise- enjoy!

 

Love...Ms. Moon

Paper Bag Day- Reach In And Find A Subject!

Almost every night Jack is either waiting for me on the bed or else he follows me in when I go to get ready for bed. Last night he came in after I was already in bed and instead of jumping up to be with me, he went over to where I had put the dolls to sleep and began sniffing them. I was not surprised at this as Hank and Rachel have cats and I figured that Jack was investigating the strange cat smell. But then this happened.

He settled in between them and went to sleep. He's never slept with Dorothy Anne on her pillow bed before that I know of. I found it charming that he decided to snuggle them. 

I would say that he's a strange cat but in reality, all cats do things that we humans cannot truly understand. That is just their cat-ways. And I honor and respect that. It is often interesting, sometimes annoying and generally never boring. 

It rained here all day long, on and off. Mr. Moon and I even discussed going to a movie which we do about once every ten years or so. We looked at the movies showing and although one looked fairly interesting ("Honk For Jesus. Save Your Soul"), it was only showing at noon (which was too soon to make it) and five-something. 

Nah. 
A Brad Pitt movie ("Bullet Train") was showing but it had gotten bad reviews and there appears to be a LOT of violence in it. 
So, no. 
Other choices were either super hero movies which I just don't enjoy or the the new Top Gun movie and no thank you for me on that one, and one that appeared to be about a guy with disabilities who adopts a monkey as a service animal and I suppose miracles occur and tears flow. 
Nope! 

I am the pickiest movie watcher. 

We decided to make our own popcorn and choose something on offer to us with our ten thousand streaming services and watch from the comfort of our own couch. Of course, the problem is finding something that both my husband and I can watch without one of us hating it which eliminates approximately 95% of all movies ever made. So we ended up with a silly Kevin Hart/Mark Walberg thing and although yes, it pretty much sucked and was ridiculous, there were some good lines in it. The main theme of the movie was gender role reversal and oh yeah, it's so funny when a man is the one who stays home with the children and does all the housework and childcare and PTA and school volunteer stuff and yet still feels somewhat...unfulfilled. 
Tell me about it. 

So that was our big day. 

The popcorn was good but a little too salty. 

We finally got the Birds of Paradise I bought last month planted in the beautiful green pots that Glen got me for Mother's Day. The plants look a little sparse but they will grow. 

That poor jade plant on the right is where Liberace was roosting when the fox snatched him, or so we believe. Anyway, it looks sad. I used to have the most magnificent jade plant but when we moved here, I never found the right place to set it and it failed and failed over the years until finally it died. 
I still feel guilty about that. 
The one good thing I can think of about not having free-range chickens is that I don't have to worry about where I put the plants that they love to nibble on. I can now grow begonias again. 
This is cold comfort but it is something. 

Lis emailed me this morning with a link to our new house. Lis and I have a long and deep-seated fantasy that she and Lon and Glen and I are all going to move in together at some point. I think this is a very practical idea and we are always casually looking for the perfect house. This could be the one. 

Hopefully, gnomes are included. We've already added (in our heads) a pink coral swimming pool. If you go to the link above, you can see it in its glorious entirety. The house is located in Mount Plymouth, Florida, which neither of us had ever even heard of. 

And with that I suppose I will finally be quiet. I'm going to make pizzas for supper. I had a small cheese-and-tomato toast around 11:45 this morning for my breakfast, popcorn at 2:30 for my lunch, and I suppose I should be hungry now. I'm sure my husband is. 
Just as with not being able to have free-ranging chickens is allowing me to grow begonias, having anxiety definitely will curb an appetite. 

You gotta look for that silver lining, folks! Oh yeah! 

Love...Ms. Moon

Pictures, Pictures, Lots Of Pictures

This picture cracks me up. I suppose that this is how I appeared to Levon yesterday when I was fake-scolding him for taking pictures of me. 

"Give me that phone, boy!"

Oh my god but I am tired. Anxiety is the most exhausting thing I know and it's been a week of it, more or less. Today's trip to Gibson and Maggie's elementary school was the last thing on my list for the week and although it was, as always, a pleasant and sweet experience, I literally wept a little when we were on our way home. This is how small and innocent my anxiety-provoking situations are. 
They really do it up at this school for Grandparents' Day. And there was a very large turn-out of old folks, holding cooler bags and canvas bags and McDonald's bags with lunches for our beloved grands. My problem every year with the event though, is all of the little ones whose grandparents can't or don't come to eat lunch with them. It's so very sad to see those kids sitting at the tables alone while all around them are kids getting spoiled and loved on by their grannies and grandpas. Perhaps they could do something special for the kids who don't have grandparents who can come. I would like to think that this would not be impossible. 

But for the kids who DO have their grandfolks, it is a sweetness. 

We ate in the cafeteria with Maggie because that's where she wanted to eat. There were also tables set up in the breezeway and that's where we ate with Gibson because it was quieter. There's a lot going on in a school cafeteria. Maggie loved her lunch and she liked having us there. 

And then it was Gibson's turn. He was a little worried that I'd maybe forgotten to bring his lunch but of course not! Mermer forget food? NEVER! His other grandmother was able to join us during Gibson's time slot so he was well represented. She also brought brownies so that was especially good. 

I swear- that child has gotten taller since last week. His other grandma said the same thing. So you know it's true. 

Guess what? I got my new baby today! Rachel sent over her grandmother's baby doll and she is just so precious. She's smaller than Dorothy Anne and perhaps a little bit newer and a little bit less loved on. 

The dress and bonnet she is wearing are so pretty and she has a very fine little chemise underneath as underwear. I need to make Dorothy Anne something similar so she won't feel cheated. 
I have to tell you that even Mr. Moon is charmed by her. He may or may not have referred to himself as "grandfather" in her presence. 
(Don't tell him I told you that.)

We have both kissed her and delighted in her and welcomed her to her new home where she is now cozied up to her big sister, Dorothy Anne. She doesn't have a name yet but I'll figure it out soon. 
It's funny. When I first started talking about going back to Monticello to buy Dorothy Anne, Hank told me that Rachel had a doll that was no doubt also going to be mine. I, being a little huffy and not wanting to start any sort of collection said something like, "Well, maybe."
"No," he said. "She will be."

Sigh.
That boy knows me all too well. 
And I could not be more delighted with this new child. Rachel was so sweet to offer her to me. 

But- I swear- I am NOT starting a collection. Two children is enough in this case. 

I spent the rest of the afternoon watching Barbie Dolls sell real estate in Orange County, California on TV, and doing a little fancying up of Lisi's new dress. 

Two more ladybug buttons and some blanket-stitch embroidery. 
I guess I really am of the age to play with dolls again. Oh- who the hell cares? 
I also did a little knitting but then my left hand which is screwed up from when I broke it as a teenager, went numb and it's hard to knit with a numb hand so even that small effort got laid down. 

All right. Here's something I should not say but I just have to. Remember when (now) King Charles III was still married to Diana but sent a letter to Camilla in which he stated that he wished he could be a tampon so that he could...well, you know- be close to her, shall we say? No matter what he says or does after that, that line will forever be burnt into my brain. Honestly, that was a fairly nice compliment but not exactly regal. I am sure there have been many, many randy kings who probably said things to their loves that were every bit as naughty but not in my lifetime. 
Bless his heart. And I say that in the most southern way it can be said. 

And last but not least,  at the intersection of the road I live on and the road I generally take to and from town, there is this. 

A few weeks ago some shit-for-brains took the time to SCRATCH the name of The Orange Enemy #1 into the reflector which pissed me off to no end. But a few days ago, I was happy to see that someone with a spray can took control of the situation. 

Life in Jefferson County, Florida. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love from your faithful reporter...Ms. Moon

I Sort Of Thought She Was Immortal

I had Levon duty today and I told him that the Queen of England had died. Of course he had no mental relationship at all to the Queen of England and I told him that she had been very old and had been the Queen for a very long time and that England is far away across the ocean and I showed him a picture of her in a crown

and he perked right up and said, "She was a real queen?"
"Yes," I said. "She was." 
"Did she have magical powers?"
"No," I said. "She didn't.
"Did she have a magic wand?"

"No," I said. "But she had a lot of crowns and she was a pretty good queen."

I think she was. It seems to me that she put her country and her duties to it above all else and I would not have wanted to be her for a second, nor her children or husband or grandchildren. No way. What a strange and unnatural life it must be to be an English royal. 

My favorite pictures of her are like the ones of her working as a mechanic or an ambulance driver in WW II. That was some real stuff, or at least as real as it could have been under the circumstances, I suppose. Levon also asked me if there were any pictures of her being dead and I told him that no, there probably aren't. 
"Why not?" he asked. 

I really did not have a great answer but just said something like, "Well, that's not something people do." 

You know what I keep thinking? That two days ago she was doing this. 

And then today with seemingly very little muss or fuss, she just...died. 

She got it done! How very like her. 

She stayed where she was in her castle in Balmoral, Scotland and she did the next thing she had to do which was to let go of this life. 

We should all be so graceful in our living and in our deaths. I think that there will be a great deal of grieving in Great Britain. Whether one is a royalist or not, Queen Elizabeth always seemed to represent a calm and steady sort of light, even to many of us who were not her subjects. She may have been a figurehead but what a fine figurehead she was! 

So yes, I picked up Levon today and we went to Publix and I got him and August toys and I could tell he was so sleepy on the way home. He did fall asleep on the couch a little while after we got to his house. I gently rubbed his little long legs and feet and sang him a silly song that I made up with verses unending and finally, holding the truck I'd gotten him, he fell asleep. 

Here he is when when he woke up. 

I have felt better today with just a few episodes of belly-clinching anxiety. I can feel it there underneath everything, slow simmering, but quite liveable-with. This is good because tomorrow is the annual Lunch with Grandparents Day at Gibson and Maggie's school. Before I picked up Levon I bought the things we'll take for our and the kids' lunches. Wraps from Costco which they love, fresh fruit, some chips and a few mini cupcakes because what purpose is there to being  grandparents if we cannot spoil the little sweeties now and then? Maybe this will take a little of the sting out of not being the grandparents who bring in bags of Happy Meals or buckets of KFC. 

And now, off to make a shrimp salad. The shrimp I bought on Tuesday were beautiful and we had some left and so...shrimp salad it will be tonight. I do not want to waste any of those beauties. 

Onward. 

God save the King. Bless his heart. He's got his work cut out for him. 

Love...Ms. Moon

This Ain't No Disco

I've taken no pictures today which is quite odd. It's been a day to keep my head down and just keep on truckin', as we used to say back in the Paleolithic Era. I do not know what the hell's going on with me but I don't like it one bit. Could this small tsunami of a wave of anxiety and depression really have been caused by missing one day of medication? 

I woke up this morning, earlier than I usually do, full alert awake and everything sparking and not in a good way. After I'd been up for an hour or so I gave in and took an Ativan, so glad I had it, and it did take the sharp crystal edge off it, brought me back to earth a little instead of being off somewhere in the stratosphere, gasping for a breath, a perch, a softer and more familiar landscape. 

I spent a good part of the day in the garden, sweating and getting filthy, pulling weeds and the last of the tomatoes, following the fragile but tough fibers of the roots of betony and dollar weed, something real to concentrate on, to grasp in entirety when I could. I found four Yukon gold potatoes that look about good enough to cook and eat as I dug. That was my biggest thrill for the day. 
Some days are not meant for thrills. 

Lucky and Grace are fine. Honest to god, I'm almost thinking about getting another hen to live in the coop with them. If I had two laying hens, that would probably do us for eggs. We don't eat that many. I used the last egg that Violet gave me making a small skillet of cornbread last night. I can hardly think about her without crying. 
Eh, honestly- everything is making me cry today. 

Where do these feelings come from? What is the trigger? What is the thing that happens that cracks open the window to allow anxiety to rush in, that crushes the wall so carefully and patiently and painfully built that keeps the crazy from crushing us? 
I do not fucking know. But as my husband reminded me just a few minutes ago when we were talking, I told him once that things do change. This, too, will change and pass. 
"I know, I know, I know," I pant-chant. "It will."
He's gently trying to get me to commit to the little trip I want so badly to take to Roseland and perhaps Vero, too, and as much as I want to go, to be by the ocean, to be on the river, the very idea of planning it, committing to it, of doing it causes me more anxiety. 
He's okay with that. He understands. He just wants to give me a diversion, something to look forward to. I love him for that. 

I also love him for getting us hooked up to a streaming service called Epix where we can watch the BBC production of a four-part series called "My Life as a Rolling Stone." Mick, Keith, Ronnie, and finally dear Charley each get an hour and it is beautifully done. We have watched Mick's hour and last night we watched Keith's. 
Even in this turmoil of my heart and mind, I enjoyed that. He- well, he inspires me. His beautiful old face as he talks about the past, talks about the music, talks about now, talks about where he came from and what he came from and especially his generosity of soul and spirit as he praises his bandmates, his mentors, those who came before him- he is precious in his way. He has had many, many nights of the soul so dark that I can't even imagine them, and yet, here he is. 

There was a part where his manager, his personal assistant for probably almost fifty years, a woman named Jane Rose, said something like, "You watch these older guys as they climb the stairs to the stage and with each step they become younger and then, when they get to the stage, lightening strikes." 
Eh. Don't we all want that? Those moments that still, no matter where we are in life are like lightening, both in the sense that there is a power that we can tap into, despite our age, and in the sense that we can shed the heaviness that weighs us down with pain and with the fear of the unknown ahead of us, and for awhile, at least, fly in the joy of doing what we love, seeing that what we have created still has meaning? 

Ay-yi. 

I better stop now. 

Here's the trailer for that documentary. 

Love...Ms. Moon

This Little Piggy Went To Market

I knew I had to go to town today. The grocery list was threatening to need continuing on the other side of the page and I was starting to worry about finding the seeds I need and want. A friend had posted on FB that she was having a hard time finding the seeds for her fall and winter garden and there have been years when I've had to go to several places before I could get everything I needed and if that was going to be the case, best to get on it. 
But oh, it was so hard to get motivated. The rather hopeless feelings from yesterday persisted today, although not as badly, and the idea of going to town was painful. I put it off as long as possible but finally I got dressed and drove the road to Tallahassee. I had to get my hormones and so I stopped at that pharmacy first. Then I went to a local nursery called Native Nurseries and found all of the seeds you see above which are the ones I wanted. I've never thought about growing artichokes before but why not try it? Remember the year I tried celery? 
Well, it was a good effort, anyway. 

I had a few more stops to make and then I took myself to lunch and sat and ate my chicken salad sandwich which really wasn't very good but at least I hadn't made it and sometimes that's really all you want. It's funny that I don't mind eating in a restaurant by myself in the least. Not for lunch, anyway. Dinner might be different. 

Mr. Moon had expressed a yearning for boiled shrimp so I went to a seafood market where I got two pounds of the creatures and I will boil them for our supper. I feel truly and utterly out of ideas for meals at the moment and for him to express a desire for any sort of specific food is a gift. 

And then to Publix and of COURSE I forgot to take my list with me so I asked my husband to please take a picture of it and send it to me which he did. Anxiety brain? Senior moment? Alzheimer's? Dementia? 
Whatever. I am so very grateful for the technology to be able to easily get a copy into my hands when I need it. 

I swear I got the very first feeling of a hint of a possibility of a whisper of fall today. It's been in the nineties, but there's that...something. Shifting of the light, perhaps. Something every bit as subtle as the air shifting around a blooming hurricane lily. A very delicate indication that a change is going to come. 

Something that hasn't changed is the now all-too familiar despair  and disgust I feel as DJT once again appears to be flying free from a situation in which anyone else in the world would have been arrested and fitted for an orange jump suit. Is he so slimy that nothing can stick? Is his particular slime some sort of demon snot which protects him no matter the circumstances? 
THIS MAN IS GOING TO RUN FOR PRESIDENT AGAIN! And I have no faith that he won't be elected.

Here in the south we love our okra which has its own share of slime but we know how to deal with it. 
WE FRY THAT SHIT!

Not that I'm suggesting anything. 

Still, worth a thought. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Good Lord

 Today has been an odd and uncomfortable day for me. I woke up from the most horrific dreams of blood and murder and viewed from a distance, it's almost as if I translated the slaughter of my chickens to a human tale with a human fox who murdered over and over and over with no one to stop him. Not a good way to wake up at all. 
And I was anxious and feeling as if perhaps reality was far less tangible than usual which is frightening in itself. 
Not good, not good, not good. 

I thought about the post I published last night and I felt as if I should delete it. Was it braggy? Oh, look at me, I used to be a regular Mother Theresa or something. But the fact of the matter is, I did those things. But haven't we all done things like that? To take care of dear ones who need tending is not a holy thing, it is a human thing. 
And I am so very, very human. Nothing else. And as I said, I can't imagine doing things like that now whereas I know people who have spent their entire lives doing for others and I'm not talking about people who are trying to pile up gold in heaven, either. People who are just plain good. 
Which I am not. Not really. 

Anyway, I had my breakfast and then went to take my medications. I'm on a few for depression and anxiety and blood pressure- you know, the regular, I guess, and I realized that I had not taken my meds yesterday. Which explained a whole lot. It was comforting in a way. Chemicals. It's all chemicals. 
And scary in another way. What if I got cut off from my chemicals? 
It would not be pretty. 

I took a walk. Far off in the distance in front of me, I saw someone who was also walking the sidewalk. I thought maybe it was No Man Lord who would reach his property before I caught up with him. But as I drew closer, I could see that it was someone I didn't know and it appeared that he may have started his Labor Day celebrations early. His gait was off but after a certain age, whose isn't? It looked like perhaps his pants were falling down but surely that couldn't be. I mean, yes, there is that style with waistbands down below jockey shorted butts, but this didn't seem like that. And then he fumbled for the back of his britches, trying to pull them up and I decided that whatever was going on there wasn't something I wanted to deal with so I turned around and walked down to the nearby bridge over what is probably a small offshoot of Lloyd Creek (why don't I know?) which is where I took the picture above. I crossed to the other side and there I saw turtles sunning on a log in the way they do and I took their picture. 

Not a great shot but it was pretty far away. Somewhat prehistoric, aren't they?

The walk was hard, even though it wasn't that long. It's still so hot and so humid. I'm okay as long as I keep moving but if I stop, I feel it all. I went into the post office which was closed due to the holiday but the door to get to the individual boxes is always open. The usual attempt at air conditioning wasn't on though and I thought I might pass out before I got that damn box open. 
I didn't. 

I came home and took a shower, made the bed. Jack was seemingly so unconscious on a pillow that he didn't stir and I didn't move him. 

That was six hours ago. He is still there. And he was there last night while we slept, too, because I reached up to feel for him and found him, gave him a little scritch and we both went back to sleep. I think this heat may have gotten to him too. I am sure that Dorothy Anne was glad for the company. 

I took some scraps out to Lucky and Grace and for about the fourth day in a row I got an egg from that one little hen. It's a big egg, too. 

And a bit lumpy. I'd always wondered who laid that particular egg and now I know. 

I worked on Lisi's dress and it's just about finished and is as imperfect as the first one I made. 

I think I am going to make her a fancy petticoat from some tulle I have, do something about the poor child's hair and then give her to Maggie. 

I still do not feel "right". I expect I'll be fine by tomorrow. I hope so because today I've felt like I'm living under a dark shadow of fear and regret. Or perhaps it's more like being a turtle, having to carry the heavy weight of my house of hopelessness on my back.  If I know one thing though, it's that things change. 
Chemicals included. 

Love...Ms. Moon

History Along With The Here And Now

A long, long time ago, back when I was still a relatively young mother, I had a tendency to caretake in a way that I really do not understand these days. Some of it was rather thrust upon me- I had a very good friend who got cancer and she stayed with us in our house on a street in Tallahassee quite near where Jessie lives now. We had a guest room off the kitchen which seemed odd but it was a nice room and the walls were painted a heavenly shade of blue that I came to believe was healing in some way. My friend with cancer did not live so very long but for awhile she stayed in that room and I fed her with nourishing foods and made sure she was comfortable. May stayed in that room after she was hit by a car and couldn't climb the stairs to her own room and that was one of the hardest and most intense and tenderest times of my life and I can still barely stand to think about it. 

In the very early nineties, a very young woman I knew got shot in a robbery and for some strange reason, I felt compelled to take her in after she was released from the hospital. She had been gravely injured and needed serious nursing care. She had a deep wound that had to be irrigated and packed with gauze every day. She was as helpless as a small child. Her father lived in Tallahassee but he was, well, a man who was in no way able to care for her. Her mother lived up north and I suppose they were not very close and although she did come to visit, she wasn't in a position to tend her daughter either. And so, somehow, like I said, I did. 

Jennifer. The girl's name was Jennifer. She was a beautiful woman and had a large group of friends and they would come and visit her at times and one of the friends was a girl named Lisa. Lisa and her boyfriend had actually been with Jennifer when she'd been shot. 
I fell in love with Lisa. And her boyfriend, truthfully. They were the most darling people and became, along with Jennifer, part of the large tribe of our family. 

It's so strange to think of those times now. My life is so very small and solitary except for my family, and when I look back on that life I had then in that house with four children, a spare teen or two generally staying with us who had gotten kicked out of their own house, friends coming and going at all times of the day and night, I cannot believe I am the same person. 

But I have stayed close to a few of those people. I may not see them very often but there is no doubt that we are still in the same tribe. And one of those is Lisa, whom we call Lisa-Lisa, Red Headed Lisa Whom We Adore. I was with her when she had her daughter Grace, that gorgeous grown-up girl in the picture above. And she and Grace and her son Cameron came and stayed with us five years ago when a hurricane threatened Tampa where they live. 

Lisa texted me yesterday that she and Grace were in Tallahassee and would I like for them to pop by on their way home? 
Oh yes. Of course. 

And so this morning they did indeed come by and it was so good to see them. Grace is a high school senior, a volleyball player, most definitely interested in studying psychology, a darling girl. She is going places, that one. It was a good visit. We caught up and laughed and there may have been a few tears. 
Lisa-Lisa looks exactly the same although of course life has changed her in many ways that looks have nothing to do with. I am proud of her. If I have any right to say that. She's been a yoga teacher for many years and works with vets with PTSD and the elderly as well as pregnant woman. I know her students must love her and they are lucky to have her. 

After they left, both Mr. Moon and I lazed around as supposedly one is supposed to do on a Sunday. Yesterday's gardening wore my ass out and he did a lot yesterday too. Finally, after all of his toil and trouble and work and watching Youtube videos, he started the Camaro he's been working on for two years. He turned the key and it rumbled into life. 

Y'all- he is so proud of this. And he should be! He still needs to do a lot to it to get it all running right but it was a dream of his and he absolutely made it happen. He sent me a video (I was in the kitchen cooking our supper) and I took shots of tequila and slices of lime out to the garage to knock back in celebration. 
Oh, this man. He can fix almost anything, build almost anything, till the soil, change the oil, take care of the family, and keep this crazy wife of his as happy and as sane as anyone could. 

I started another dress for Lisi and I think this one will work. I am enjoying this project so much. 

We watched last night's trail cam videos and captured on it was not only a fox, walking past the henhouse as if it owned it, but a doe. We have deer in the yard? I guess we do. Once, and only once, have we seen a print in the yard but here we are. 

I've had this song stuck in my head all day which has been an interesting pleasure as I've sung it softly to myself, the minor key of it winding a sort of enchantment. I offer it to you in case you need that sort of an ear worm. If not, don't watch it.

Love...Ms. Moon

No Title

I made Gibson pose so he made a funny face this morning as we were about to eat the standard spend-the-night breakfast. It was lovely having that boy here. He is so special, so loving, so damn smart. Last night he asked me to read to him- Professor Wormbog AND The Little Red Hen Makes A Pizza. And then he read me part of a book he is reading. He is also kind, our Gibson boy. His heart is huge. 

Y'all- Liberace got taken last night. 

Right now the black hen and the young rooster are back in the coop and we'll shut the sliding door when they go to roost so that even if something can get in the coop, they won't have access to the hen house. 

And so it goes. 

I thank all of you for your suggestions and theories. The Dollar General upsetting the local ecosystem is an interesting one and I am not about to say that's not what happened. This all began around the same time they started clearing that land. 
But. It doesn't seem quite reasonable. 
As to building a stronger coop- I'm not really interested in keeping chickens cooped up all day. We've never been in it for the meat or the eggs, either. I think I would have kept chickens just to watch them as they scratched about the yard all day even if they hadn't given me so many beautiful eggs. The sounds of a rooster crowing to call his hens, to send warnings, the clucking of the hens as they search for the flock after they've laid an egg, the way the rooster tid-bits when he's found something to share with the ladies, the way they have been free to make their dirt baths in the sandy parts of the yard and to stretch out in the sun like cover girls- these are the things I love. I have no real interest in having confined chickens. It may not even be that big of a deal to them. I don't know! But a free range chicken has to be a happier chicken, that's all there is to it. And they ranged all over these two acres. It even amused us when they would find a new place to lay- the surprise of finding a stash of eggs in a potted plant or a corner of the garage was testament to their slyness and their mysterious (to us) intuition that it was time to create a new nest. I loved the way they would come and keep me company when I was working in the garden, hoping for a stray bug or overripe tomato that I might toss to them. 

They had their routines and routes just as surely as I do. "The Stations of the Cross," I always called the way they went from one part of the yard to another.
They made their pilgrimages every day. Watching them do that brought me joy every day. I think it would only make my heart heavy to see them in a coop, listless and bored. 

Well. 

I dug up some more sweet potatoes this afternoon. Some of them even bigger than the ones I dug up last week. 

I pulled all of the vines and dug all the potatoes I could find. I am sure I left enough in the ground for next year's volunteers. I also pulled up the last of the field peas. All that's left to get the garden ready for the greens and carrots and the other fall/winter crop is to weed and pull the okra. We had air-fried okra last night and it was delicious. Something is eating all of the okra plants though and so it's time to let that go. 

This is the season of letting go, I suppose. 
Never easy but part of the yin-yang whole of it. And that's just the way it is. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Cheerful Things

Well, here are the last three standing. Bless their hearts. I suppose I should name the young'un. It could be Dr. Pansaloony but I think perhaps we should just call him Lucky, at least for now. And I am certain he's a rooster. Those three have cheered me all day and it is wonderful to have them roaming about again. Every time I see them I smile. Ms. Gracie even left me an egg in the pump house which I found when I went to collect my clothespin bag. 

Thank all of you so very, very much for your sweet messages of condolence. Some of you have been with me for my entire journey in chicken-tending which is a sort of comfort in itself. Glen and I have both been despondent over the horrible deaths of our hens. And we keep asking ourselves- why now? After all of these years. As Ellen said in her comment, we have lost a few over the years to predators but nothing like this. And I don't think that the raccoons and foxes and possums are starving- it's been a good summer with plenty of rain and I'm sure there are rats and rabbits and other small animals galore for them to satisfy their hunger. Have they all just become aware of the tasty chickens here on the Moon property? 
Doubtful. 
I have no idea. 
And we've had the same set-up forever. Same coop, same hen house, same doors. 
I don't think we'll ever really know although I do feel certain that there may be at least two foxes who have made a home in the back of the property by the railroad tracks. Probably with a family. Across the tracks there's a large piece of land that is swamp and woods. There's no way we can control what comes from there. 
So for now, we go on. And perhaps we will figure something out before next spring when it's time to buy new chicks. I just don't know. 

I took a walk this morning. I knew I had to for all the right reasons. It wasn't a long walk but I wasn't looking for a way to torture myself. I just needed to move and I did. I hung out the laundry and I worked on the dress I've been trying to make for Lisi. After a couple of hours on it I decided it was completely FUBAR and set it aside and put the sewing machine and my pins and scissors away and put a tablecloth on the table. Gibson is coming tonight for his turn at Mer and Bop's and perhaps we'll eat dinner in the actual room we have dedicated to that activity although we so rarely eat in it. 

So it's been a quiet day, not and humid, although it started raining awhile ago and is still drizzling. I want so badly to get back into the garden and I will do that this weekend. I swear it! There are weeds to pull and sweet potatoes to find. 

I got a text from Rachel yesterday asking me if I'd like her grandmother's doll which she has been keeping, wrapped in bubblewrap for a long time. She sent me this picture and reassured me that if I did not want it, that would be fine but she thought she'd offer. 

I texted back that I would very much love to adopt this baby and I am excited to think that Dorothy Anne will get a sister. They are very similar, made of the same things- cloth and composition. She was made by a different company but obviously of the same era. 

This one even has head damage like Dorothy Anne's. I am looking forward to getting her, washing her clothes, and tucking her up beside Dorothy Anne. I am sure they will have a lot to talk about. 

I told Mr. Moon that we would be getting a new doll child and instead of laughing at me, he said, "Well, you should be able to have as many dolls as I have deer heads," which I thought was very sweet of him. Not that he's "allowing" me to keep old dolls on our bed or in our room, but because he understands that these old babies mean something to me. He knows he doesn't need to understand what they mean to me, which is good because I don't really understand it myself, just as I have no concept of why he would want deer heads on the wall or why he would want to shoot a deer in the first place but that is not important. We just recognize and respect the things that are important to each other and accept that they are. 

In this case, I have a feeling that both deer heads and dolls represent something very primal in each of us. 

Oh, humans are funny and mysterious beings, aren't we? 

I better go make some meat loaf (out of venison, by the way) because that is what our Gibson wants tonight. Also, boiled potatoes. I can do that. It will be good to have that sweet boy here tonight. 

And here's one last picture. Jessie sent it to us all and called it "the Cherry picture of the day."

Okay, okay. She sent two pictures. Hell, let's post the other one too. 

Would you look at that sweet baby tummy with its spots? She is such a lovely kitten. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

 

Grieving

I wish I did not have anything to talk about tonight. But the fact is, I do. It has been a hard day. 

This morning I went out to the hen house and coop to give the five chickens the kitchen scraps and some scratch and feed. As I approached the coop I saw feathers and my heart sank. 
"Oh no, oh no, oh no!" I chanted. Mr. Moon was right beside me, heading over to the garage. We went into the coop and at the far side of it was a dead chicken. And in the hen house itself another hen lay dead in a nest. 

I almost broke. I had truly thought they were safe in that space but to be honest, the screen door into the coop is warped and at the top there's a small space that we're pretty sure a raccoon got in to murder my babies. Liberace's tail feathers were all fucked up and I'm sure he put up a valiant fight but a raccoon is a powerful force of teeth and clever paws with claws. They can tear up a dog so you know they can decimate a chicken. Neither of the bodies were near the door and I am pretty sure the coon couldn't figure out how to get them out. As we all know, a raccoon can climb. Foxes can too but the trail cam which was trained on the other door, the solid door, showed so many raccoons sniffing around, trying to open it which they could not but the screen door was probably too easy. 

Both Glen and I are done. For now, at least. It's just too much. Liberace, Gracie, and the young one which I am now almost sure is a rooster, are the only ones left and we let them out of the coop this morning. Fuck it. If they're going to die, let them be free until they do. 

So yes. It's been a very sad day. Luckily I had Weatherford boy pick-up duty. That and their new kitten was a bit of a distraction. 

As I told Vergil today, that is the smallest cat I've ever seen not on its mama's titty. It is darling. The boys love her and want to name her Cherry. 

And this is how it's been today for me. There is such a heaviness on me. I have been keeping chickens for around thirteen years now. From that first batch of biddies that Kathleen brought over I have felt as if chickens were something I needed so much in my life. They helped me through that horrible period of anxiety I went through. They soothed my soul. They taught me so much, not just about chicken behavior, but about animal, and thus, human behavior. They have made me laugh, they have made me proud, they have made me feel as if something quite ancient in my woman's soul was finally satisfied. Their eggs have never ceased to be miracles in my palm and in my kitchen. The hatching of babies has been a wonder and a joy. Watching the way hens mother those babies has been an inspiration and an education. Their curious natures have shown me how important curiosity is in life, their attention and awareness of the smallest things they scratch for in the dirt, to the sounds of hawks overhead amazes me. The way a good rooster treats and watches out for his hens has humbled me. 

That's all I want to say tonight. 
Perhaps we shall miss chickens so much that we will figure out a way to keep them safe from critters who live around us. I hope so. But for now, we have these three left and I have little hope for their survival. 

These will probably be the last eggs in a bowl on my counter at least for now. No other eggs will ever taste as good. No other eggs will ever be as fine. 

This is hard, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon