Sweetness And Light

This is what it looks like when I have gotten to my driveway on my way home from my walk. Can you see all of my dead ferns? They will come back. There are many brown Crocosmia too. Quite unfortunately they will also come back and in fact, in parts of my yard they already have, sending up their leaves with green vigor, ready to do battle with me again in my never-ending attempt to get rid of them. 

I have been in the best spirits today. I have no idea why but I have. Just a real and true feeling of contentment and peace. Nothing out of the ordinary has happened but it has been an almost perfect day, weather-wise, and my walk was fine. No Man Lord has created a huge cross in his yard with hundreds of aluminum cans. He appears to be in one of his religious phases again with signs about Jesus and the coming days of reckoning propped up against his fence, and his fence, too, has messages written on it. For those of you who have not been reading here long, No Man Lord is what I've been calling this neighbor for many years because he had a cross in his yard for a long time with a sign that said just that- NO MAN LORD. 
He is so interesting. Always, always doing something. 

When I reach the point in my walk pictured above I can either turn in and end my walk or go on to the post office which is just past the intersection up there. The decision is often made on how badly I have to pee. If I stop and go into the house to do that, I find that my momentum has faded and I just say, "Oh, fuck it. I'm home."
But today I had peed in the woods as I often do and was fine in that regard and walked on. My newish-neighbor was on a ladder in his front yard, cutting vines hanging from a magnolia tree. I stopped and called out to him and we ended up talking for quite awhile. I really feel that he may have changed since moving to Lloyd. He seems softer, more open. And in fact he told me that he has been building things and loving that as well as working in his yard and loving that too. 
"It might be my age," he said. He is fifty-one. 
I asked, "Have you started bird-watching yet?"
He laughed. "Not yet"
"You will," I said with all the confidence and experience of my years. He admitted that his wife had hung a hummingbird feeder and he does like watching those birds come and go. 
He'll see. 
I asked him if they were planning on building a fence, now that they've cleared all the fence lines and he said that maybe they would but they weren't sure. He sort of apologized for infringing on our privacy which I appreciated. I think he just wants every square inch of his yard to do with as he wants and I understand that and I told him so. I have a feeling that neatness and tidiness is important to him in ways that do not worry me at all. 

The rest of the day I have spent hanging laundry on the line, instructing Ralph to vacuum my floors, and making a lemon pie with Meyer's lemon juice that my across-the-street neighbor brought me. It is a beautiful thing. 

I used Granny Mathew's recipe for key lime pie. It works equally well for lemon. 

By the way, my arms and legs look almost exactly like that recipe card due to my years in the sun. I am not kidding. 

Obviously, I did not make a meringue. I know my husband and I knew he would want it with whipped cream so I bought whipping cream at the store yesterday. I asked him today which he would rather have and he hemmed and hawed and said, "Well, I know we usually eat it with meringue but I think I would like whipped cream," as if this was something entirely new.
"All right," I said. And there are billowy clouds of whipped cream in a container in the refrigerator now. 

Levon's ultrasound came back normal so...who knows? He seems to be better today. I talked to those boys on the phone this afternoon and August asked how the Roomba was doing. There had been a bit of a problem with it when they were last here. I told him it was fine and was vacuuming right that moment. He was glad to hear it and I told him that I would tell Ralph he'd asked about him. 
Dead silence. 
I could only imagine that my engineer's-brained grandson was thinking, "MerMer is an idiot." 

I cannot disagree. 
When I talked to Levon we chatted for a bit and then I asked if there was anything else he wanted to tell me. 
"Yes!" he said. 
I waited a few seconds. 

"What is it?"

"How are you today?" he asked, working on his social and communication skills, I am sure. 

Oh, how lucky I am to have all of these grandchildren to talk to, to learn from, to recognize and appreciate the ways they learn and grow. 

I am grateful, too, for this sweet, easy day. I wish there were more of them but I am so glad for the ones I have. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Trigger Warning: Discussion Of Childhood Sexual Abuse But Also Fun Things Including Delightful Synchronicities

I woke up this morning from yet another dream that my stepfather was in and I was having to fight him off. I was listening to a book later today about a man who'd been a soldier having nightmares, forty years after the war. 
PTSD. 
Is that what I have? Do I live in a state of constant fear, so familiar to me now that I don't even think about it? Is this where the anxiety comes from? 
I do not know but the dreams have never ceased. Despite one-on-one therapy and a recovery group and absolutely decades of exploring the why's and wherefores of my psyche, and doing the work that was necessary to get me through the hardest, most difficult parts of my entire life, the dreams still come, and I wake up not knowing what to do with them. 
I remember when I first started seeing my wonderful, beloved, excellent therapist, I had a dream in which I punched my stepfather when he tried to come into my house. I was so proud of myself! I felt that yes, finally, I was making progress! 
That was probably about thirty-five years ago. 
When I began the process of trying to heal, one of my main realizations was that the issue of abuse is like a many, many layered onion. Just as you think you have gotten to the core of something that affects you so much, you realize that no, the core is nowhere yet to be seen. What you are looking at is another layer that must be painstakingly removed. It is an endless process. 
I realize now, at the age of 68, that it is a process I will never complete. And I'm not sure how that makes me feel. Despondent, yes. Depressed. Of course. 
And yet, I know that if I had not found the therapist I found, the group of women who were fellow-survivors, I might be dead by now. 
And of course my husband who has to put up with all of it- the process and the pain and the panic and the endless processing. It is not fair to him. It never had been, it never will be. 

So many layers to that stinking, filthy onion. 

Huh. Well. I certainly did not sit down tonight to say all of that but it would seem that I have. I am certain that there are many people who would tell me if they could, that I need to just "let it go, stop dwelling on it, it's in the past, the man is dead." 
Yeah. Whatever. It will always be in the past and it will always be a part of who I am. There is no way around that. Attitudes and characteristics and coping methods of mine which were formed because of what happened are as ingrained as the color of my eyes by now. I have learned many things about myself and there is no doubt I could probably help myself further with things like meditation, doing  guided ayahuasca therapy...oh hell. I do not know. 
In the meantime, I live my life and I love my life. But almost every day when I wake up, I have to shake the dreams that haunted me as I slept. Every day I make choices based on fear and the desire for safety and comfort. 
It's something. And I have a feeling that many, many of you know exactly what I'm talking about. I wish we could all hold each other for a moment, give each other the kind of hugs that Brenda gave me in Costco today. The best kind of hug that stays with you. 
"I needed that," she said. 
"So did I," I told her. And I did.

I went to town today and ran by Hank and Rachel's house. Hank had a cyst removed from his neck and has stitches and wanted me to bandage it for him. Rachel is not comfortable with stitches. I understand. But it is nothing for me and I was so glad to do it. 
I met Jessie and Levon at Chow Time for lunch. Levon has been having abdominal pain for almost two weeks now, mostly at night, and it comes and it goes but it is real and it looks like he's suffering. She's had him to see two doctors, had bloodwork, all that stuff and nothing out of the ordinary has shown up. So today he got an ultrasound and we shall see if that shows anything. When he's not feeling the pain, he is HUNGRY because when is feeling it, he isn't, and he is a growing five-year old boy. He ate pizza at Chow Time while I ate sushi and hot and sour soup and fried okra and cabbage and pineapple chicken and then he ate FOUR DESSERTS! His mother is spoiling him right now and so she should. This is a hard time for her. No mother, no parent, wants to see their child in pain and have no idea what to do to relieve it. And by the way- they were small desserts. 
And then we went to Costco and he ate a little bitty taco sample and he wanted more of that. I let him play the game I have on my phone that the boys love. It's called Monument and honestly, it's pretty darn cool. I am spoiling him too. 

We left the parking lot in our separate cars after we unloaded our Costco goods and I headed for the library which is on the way to Publix. I am finally almost finished with the Knausgard book and thank GOD because it is so very dark and weird and yet, I have not been able to put it down because it is somehow spellbinding. I have a strong feeling that finishing it will resolve nothing for me, either as applies to the book or to my feelings about it. 

But guess who was at the library? Jessie and Levon! They had gone to turn in books and beaten me there. Levon said, "No way! This can't happen!" 
I said, "It can happen because it did."

And on to Publix. Here, I took a picture. 

Exciting, right? 
This is Lauren's Publix but it was Lily's Publix for many years. It is the closest one to my house. And there I was, in the produce section, when I heard...our family whistle! I turned around and there were Gibson, Maggie, and Jason. Oh my goodness! What a day. 

That picture was obviously not taken in the produce section but in the packaged cheese and lunch meat and frozen vegetables section, when our paths crossed for the 85th time. You know how that is- you run into someone you know at the beginning of your shopping excursion and you catch up, talking for way too long, and then finally you hug and say, "Oh, it was so good to see you!" and you make your get-away.
And then you see them again on the next aisle. 

Now of course I did not feel that way about seeing my grandchildren and their daddy but we did run into each other a lot and ended up checking out at the same time. And oh! I forgot to mention that seconds after Gibson saw me and did the family whistle, his best friend appeared and said, "Hey Gibs!" 
Gibson was amazed! "My grandma and my best friend!" I was waiting for him to say, "This can't happen!"
They hugged. It was so cute. 

So yes, what a day, and a good reminder that bad dreams and worries can, like early morning fog, become thinner and thinner and finally dissipate if not entirely disappear from existence forever. 

I saw a different cat in our backyard this evening. I always see the black panther cat who slinks by every day but this one was not one I'd ever seen before. And quite frankly, it did not look like any cat I'd ever seen before at all. It looked very much like Jack in size and girth and his colors were gray and white, like Jack's but arranged in the strangest patterns over his body. Like Jack, if bleach had been splashed over him. If he comes by again, I'll try to take a picture. 

Thank you for hanging with me here this evening. And if you are one of those people who wishes I would just shut the fuck up about things that happened sixty years ago, I understand your feelings. 
I wish I could too. Trust me. 
And please know that for whoever needs it- this is, as we say- a safe place. Words that have become another cliche and yet absolutely true. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Wild And Domestic

This morning the same little bird was back at it, trying to come into my bathroom. Either that, or trying to smash the bird in the reflection of the window. I'm not sure that's it, though. I've now seen the bird do the same thing on cloudy days when the sun wasn't shining enough for the bird to see its reflection. Whatever the impetus, it is a determined thing. It always perches on that same slender bamboo stalk. It gets itself settled and then makes a few tiny ruffling movements and then POW! Up to the window it flies, bouncing its tiny little head off the glass. And then it flies straight back to that same stem and settles itself and begins the whole process again. This goes on for hours. 

Curious, indeed. As Hank pointed out when I sent everyone a picture this morning, "Well, it is a very nice bathroom."
Perhaps it only wants a shower. 

It was another beautiful day and so I took a little walk. It would appear to me that No Man Lord may be building something. He moved the RV that he lives in and where it had been sitting, began to dig what looks like a foundation. There are lines going from corner-to-corner. I never do know what he is doing. I did not see him out today. He has a group of guys who come and hang out with him regularly and I suppose they are helping him with this project. I could see him building something very, very slowly, like they do in the poorest sections of Mexico where they earn enough money to buy a few cement blocks and begin there, adding to walls and roofs as they can afford. 
I can also easily see him beginning something and then walking away from it. His projects come and they go. I remember talking to that woman I met in front of his yard one day that I liked so much. I asked her what Harvey was doing. Harvey is his real name. "Oh you know," she said. "Same thing Harvey always does." 

It hasn't been much of a busy day. After my walks, I always feel as if I have accomplished enough which of course is silly, but that's the way it is. I took Moana some treats from the kitchen and then I turned the compost out by the garden and planted some onions that had sprouted. I have no idea why it's so fun for me to grow plants that arise from my kitchen but it is. My greens are still hanging in but barely. Almost all of the lettuces were shocked to mush. The collards and mustards and turnips are coming back, and so is the kale, I think. But slowly. The arugula just looks like hell and I should replant it. I think there's enough time to get enough of that for more salads before it gets too warm, especially the way it springs forth from the ground so quickly.

And then I decided to trim the rest of the segos in front of the porch. This time I took before and after photos.

I cut them back hard. But all of those fronds that had yellow in them needed to go. I've seen them trimmed of all fronds in winter and they seem to survive just fine. I just asked google if sago palms were around with the dinosaurs, and yes. Yes they were. The dinosaurs did not survive the comet hitting the earth but the sago palms did and I am not in the least surprised. I bet the dinosaurs hated them too. Mr. Moon was going to use the last ones I cut to camouflage a duck blind but before he got to it, he discovered that dogs are allergic to them and they do use dogs in duck hunting to retrieve the birds and so that would not be a good idea. I am pretty sure that people are allergic to them as well, as I have so often said. One of the least pleasant things in the world is getting stuck with one of the needles through gloves. It's just a horrible feeling. 
I do believe I got my wish about the Canary Island date palms. They are both dying, I am pretty sure. Good riddance, I say! I was cutting fronds off of them today when I found a little wasp nest from last year on the underside of one. 

Although I do so much admire their architectural abilities and the fact that some varieties are pollinators, I just hate the little bastards. It's bad enough when I get stung but I hate the idea of the children getting stung which they sometimes do. A few years ago, some wasps had obviously built a nest on the underside of a frond of cabbage palm to the right of my porch steps and I brushed it on my way up to water the plants. I got stung and whenever I think about it, I get an electric shiver all over my body. It's just so RUDE! 

My sea grape seeds continue to break through the soil. At the moment I think I have five showing. They look like little mushrooms with a dirt cap until you see the green undersides. 

If I can get one sea grape plant to plant in a pot, I will be so happy. But just seeing them sprout has been a happiness on its own. 

As Kurt Vonnegut once said, "Life. There is just no stopping it." 
Or something like that. 

The sun is setting. I wonder if the sight of that will always remind me of Ross now. I have been remembering to look up every day, quite consciously, to regard and appreciate what I see. It is a very small moment of mindfulness meditation, I guess. 

I need to go close the sliding door to ensure Moana's safety for the night. I have to admit that it is rather depressing to keep her cooped up all day. Perhaps I should ask my friend Kelly if she has a spare hen who is perhaps old or a bit infirm to come and keep Moana company. 
I don't know. 

Meanwhile, I shall do what I can to make her as safe and happy as I can.

Love...Ms. Moon

Love And Movies

Last night before I got supper on the table (and by the way- french fries made in the air fryer are supremely delicious) I went to check on Miss Moana. I was so hoping she was in the hen house where I could close her in most safely but I knew that at Jessie's, she had been refusing to go into their roost at night. But there she was, drowsy and safe on the branch that Mr. Moon put up in there for the chickens who did not want to sleep in a nest. So I was able to close the sliding door between her and the coop run which made me feel secure, and I hope it made her feel that way too. I keep telling Mr. Moon that I think she remembers being here when she was young and he says, "I know you want to think that." 

He's right. 

Anyway, this morning when I went to let her out she was waiting right by the sliding door and hen-strutted into the coop and proceeded to peck at the treats I gave her. I hope she's happy. Or at least as happy as a cooped, single chicken can be. 

A few days ago, I asked Glen if perhaps he'd like to go to a movie today. I had a yearning to go see "A Man Called Otto" with Tom Hanks based on the book, "A Man Named Ove" by Fredrik Backman. I had read the book and as so many people did, fell in love with it. It's been so long since I read it though, and because my memory sucks so much, I could not remember a whole lot about the book except for the basic plot and of course it was set in Sweden while the movie is set somewhere here in the US. 

Up until a few minutes before we had to leave to get there on time, I was being wishy-washy about going. We go to the movie so seldom that I always want it to be a true movie experience, popcorn and all, but we'd just finished our Sunday big breakfast and the idea of popcorn wasn't that appealing and I thought, well, we should just stay home and I'll do some yard work, but then I thought, what the hell? So we went. 

That is not from "A Man Called Otto" but from a preview of some Kelsey Grammer movie supposedly based on a true story about some pastor opening his heart and church to hippies. 

Hard pass on that one for me. Thank you. 

We did get some popcorn. Just a little bag but it had to be done. The man got an Icee and I got a root beer and he had to show me how to make my seat recline so that I could use the footrest. 
Jesus but movies have changed. I still remember the worn "velvet" seats that flapped up when you got out of them at the Ritz in Winter Haven so that they could be swept under. The popcorn is still delicious though, covered with fake butter, and a root beer is a root beer. The prices are astronomical now, of course. You could probably get a decent motel room for what two tickets, a small box of popcorn and two drinks cost. But hey- if you only go once every four years or so, it's not such a sin. 

None of the previews looked like anything I want to see. Who comes up with these ideas? Adam Driver and a little girl on some distant world where they have to kill dinosaurs? Jesus returns as a hippie? Okay, there was another one that didn't look so bad but I'll be happy as hell to wait until it comes on Netflix. 

We held hands and I even put my hand on his THIGH and thought about how doing that in high school would have totally ruined my reputation. 
I don't know about Mr. Moon but I got a frisson of excitement, being so daring in public. 

I liked the movie. A lot. I'm one of those people who pretty much love Tom Hanks in whatever he does. But the woman who played the second leading role, Mariana Trevino, was so good. I fell in love with her. The plot is hardly groundbreakingly original. A bitter older man discovers that his life still holds worth and meaning. I think that Bill Murray did it far better in "St. Vincent" but it was still a moving film. I cried in quite a few parts and Glen got a little teary too. At the end, I was almost afraid I was going to start sobbing out loud but I am a very emotional person and cry all the time so that didn't mean a whole lot. I do not like movies that I feel jerk my tears but I felt that the emotional scenes were fairly organic in this one. 

I had a really good time, and I have gratitude towards my husband for taking me to see a movie that probably would not have been his first choice to watch. I just told him that I really appreciate him taking me to see it. "Wasn't that fun?" he asked. "But it made me cry too much." 
"You know I fell in love with you because you could cry," I said. 

Then I thought for a second. 
"Well, partially." 

"I know," he said. And he does. 

I do love that man. About an hour ago he made me laugh so hard I almost choked. I'd tell you what he said that made me laugh but that would not be appropriate. Or prudent. Private joke and all that. I could write a novella on why I laughed so hard. Maybe someday I will. 

Long time love can surely be a fine thing. As can going to a movie on a Sunday afternoon. 

Both can make you laugh, both can make you cry, if, it's a good love and if, it's a good movie. 
That's my opinion, anyway. 

Love...Ms. Moon

 

Quite A Lot

 First things first. I took Maggie her quilt this afternoon. 

I think she liked it although since it's not something you can play with, it did not hold her interest for long. They were having a movie day birthday party with treats to snack on and then presents and she wanted to get to the presents portion of the affair. Her mama made her a beautiful and very girly vanity using a piece she'd gotten at the Bad Girls Get Saved By Jesus Thriftstore and also recovered a darling little chair with a velvet dress that the girl had outgrown. 

Would you look at that? What seven-year old girl would not love that? 

I've been thinking about Maggie's birth today, of course. I went back and found the post from the day she was born. You can read it HERE. 

I have since realized that I spelled the midwife's name incorrectly. Her name is Tanashia Roberts Huff and she now has her own homebirth business and her mothers are so lucky to have such a calm, beautiful, and highly skilled woman to help them bring their babies into the world. She also delivered Levon. She is beloved by our family, as is Diane, who was her mentor and who delivered Gibson. 

Here are a few pictures from that day. 

Oh, how I love that one so much! Owen and his sister and his mama. 

It was good to see Ms. Maggie June and her mama and brothers and Lauren again today. Still keeping my distance as all three of the kids are still testing positive. They seem absolutely fine though. It was an ache not to be able to hug that girl. 

You aren't going to believe this-

There is a hen in my coop! Her name is Moana and she is the last remaining chicken of Jessie's. They caught her and brought her out here today to live, for awhile at least. Believe it or not, even in town there are predators that kill chickens and they got to Jessie's. Only Moana survived and she has health problems, laying eggs without shells, mostly. She's a pretty girl, though, isn't she? She hopped out of the box they'd brought her in and began eating right away and I think that's a good sign. It is so very sad for a chicken to live alone but not knowing what her health problems are, it wouldn't be wise to keep her with others. So here we are. Of course I want to let her free range but that would just be asking for death. Which may become the appropriate thing to do. Here she has a big coop and a hen house to roost in at night should she choose to do so. I hope she does because as we know, critters do get into the coop at night, no matter how carefully we try to secure it. 

I guess what I'm saying here is that her days may be limited but she had gotten to the point at Jessie's where she would not go into the coop at night and just roosted on the ground which was not going to end well and as Vergil said, if her last days can be happy, it would be good. She was raised here until she was big enough to go join the flock at Jessie's house so perhaps she remembers, at least viscerally, and feels at home. I hope so. 

Last night, Mr. Moon sat in the kitchen and we talked about Ross and his brother Robert and emotions came up from my guts as I wrapped the tofu and vegetables in the egg roll wrappers. We both cried. Today Ross's obituary was posted on Facebook and I am going to link it HERE.  I think it is absolutely one of the most beautiful, honest, and true-to-life obituaries I've ever read. It says everything I was trying to say when I wrote about him after he died but with far more immediacy and honesty. It was only available online and Tom, who went to a basketball game with Glen today, came in and read it. Tom does not do computers or smartphones. He just doesn't. But he wanted to read it. 
Ross's death has been incredibly hard for him. 
"I will be grieving him for a long time," he said to me today. 
We all will be. 

Birth, death, and all the messy, amazing, prosaic, horrible, wonderful, grievous, miraculous, joyful things in-between. 
As Ross would like you to do- look up. Be tender, even in the confusion and pain. 

I need to remember that. Not a bad lesson for any of us. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Lightness Of Being

 It's been a perfectly lovely day. I did get to hang the sheets on the line and as always, Maurice had to come and observe. I wonder if she grades me on my performances. I personally think I should get an A on sheet-hanging. 
Gardening? Eh, probably a C. 

I went to the post office and Shelly was there. She's the lady I see on walks when I go a route that I haven't been on in a long time. Of course, me, with my face blindness, did not recognize her but I don't think she was offended. I told her about the face blindness thing and she graciously accepted that. We chatted for a few. She seemed to be in a good mood and I was glad to see her. We hugged. 

I've been waiting for weeks and weeks for three Christmas presents to arrive and they finally did today. And oh my god! I have laughed and laughed at this situation. 
First of all, the website I ordered them from seemed perfectly legit and the photography for the items was terrific. The prices weren't so low that I was suspicious of a scam and you know how I was before Christmas- crazy! And I'd actually gotten some shipping updates in the last few days so I was pretty sure that all would be well. Quite late, but well. 
So the package came today and I go to open it and notice that it is from China, and I do mean, FROM China. The return address and shipping information was all in Chinese (I assume) except for my name and address and I suppose that's why it took so long to get here. And then getting into the wrapping was insane. I have never seen so much bubblewrap and plastic wrapping and weird styrofoam in my life. Also packing tape of several colors. And when I finally got to the items themself I was at first a little disappointed but then I just started being amused. Really, the things are not so bad. Well, except for one of them which is a complete piece of shit. I figure that the kids will just enjoy the funkiness of them and laugh too. I mean- I can't send them back. There wasn't even a return package slip. Or any sort of paperwork in the box for that matter. 

So that amused me and I am tucking the whole experience into the "lessons learned" file, and honestly, except for the terrible one, they are acceptable. 

In literary news (haha!) I had downloaded "Go Tell The Bees That I Am Gone" by Diana Gabaldon, not realizing that it was part of the Outlander series. I spent about a year listening to most of those books and I enjoyed them. I even tried watching some of the series on TV but even though the eye-candy was delicious and the sex was pretty hot, the violence was more than I cared to deal with. There was an awful lot of that in the books too but the blood just isn't as red in books as it is on the screen. And I spent about a week listening to this new book and it was okay but I realized early on that it was something like 49 hours of listening (not kidding- 928 pages) and after listening to about fifteen hours of it, I was doing the audible version of skimming and would find myself wondering, "Now wait. Hold on. Who is this? What's going on? Are we in North Carolina or Savannah?" 
And today I returned it to the library. I was falling behind on my podcasts! This is not to say that I didn't find a lot of what I did listen to interesting. Jamie and Claire still make wild passionate love under the stars, which I found to be charming, and I do still very much appreciate the huge amount of research that Gabaldon does on everything from history to herbal medicine to life in the colonies before the revolution to Native Americans to the butchering of wild hogs. I do not have a clue as to how she does it. And she's not a bad writer. Perhaps I'll go back to it at some point but now is not the time. 

With my eyes I'm reading "The Morning Star" by Karl Ove Knausgard and I am not sure why. It sort of has me spellbound, even as it depresses the fuck out of me in that Norwegian, angsty way. I've never read any of his other books and I take it that this one is quite different from those which are auto-fiction? I think we call it? 
It may be time for me to go back and reread another Larry McMurtry book soon. Perhaps even his "The Morning Star" which, although sharing a title with Knausgard's book, has nothing in common with it. 

I finished Maggie's blanket! 

It is ten billion miles from perfect but it is cheerful, it is soft, it is warm, it has mermaids, whales, dolphins, and sea turtles. Her MerMer made it for her. If I had more time I would blanket-stitch around the different panels but as it is, I don't. I can't believe that little girl will be seven tomorrow. I remember her birth so well, and perhaps we shall tell that story tomorrow again. I know that the midwives who attended both Lily and Jessie love our family for their quick and easy (relatively) births. We are blessed beyond belief, our babies born at home and touched and loved and welcomed from their first seconds by the people who adore them. 

All right. I do not need to start going down that particular rabbit hole tonight. I am going to go make some egg rolls for the man. He has been quite busy the last few days, working with our friend Chip to transport the now-aged walnut and cherry wood from trees that were downed right here, to Tom's saw mill and making planks or whatever it is that people make in order to transition trees to tables and so forth. They worked together yesterday but I did not know that they would be working together again today and when I went into the kitchen after getting the sheets in the washing machine and saw Chip sitting there while Glen made them both bowls of cereal, I was happy to see him, nicely surprised, and yet at the same time, not surprised at all. 
Chip is one of those people. He's in my heart and so why shouldn't he be in my kitchen? 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

This Isn't Interesting Enough To Title

I did not take one picture today. 
Not of a cat or a dog or a man or a boy or a girl or an icicle or a tree or a flower or a pot of soup, loaf of bread, or piece of cake. 
I just went about my business. 
Today my business was going to the post office and the trash place and then to the school where Maggie and Gibson go to pick up their make-up work folders. It would appear that those two have covid now and Owen probably has it too although he didn't want to test and I'm not sure why. He's not feeling well. The kids' dad came down with covid this week and so did their other grandma so it was pretty inevitable that the children would get it too. Owen's had it before but Maggie and Gibson had not. 

I was going to go drop off Gibson's Christmas present which finally came and Lily asked if I'd mind going by their school to get their work and I said of course not. It's not far from my house, really, down nice roads with some fine old houses on them that I like to look at. When I got to Lily's house, everyone came outside including Lauren and Chloe and Pepper who are finally getting used to me. I call myself GrandMer to them. Chloe especially loves getting petted. I stayed six feet away from the kids and it was a beautiful day to be outside. Gibson liked his present, I think. Magnolia was a bit huffy about not getting a present too, even though we explained that she got her Christmas present on Christmas whereas Gibson's came late. This didn't matter much to her. She just wanted another present. I told her that in two days, on her birthday, I would be bringing her a present that I have been working on for months. She was a tiny bit pacified by that. However, when she began discussing plans for her birthday and it was made clear to her that once again, covid was going to prevent them from having a real party, she broke down a little again. 
I'd say this is an excellent opportunity for her to learn that life is not fair but mostly it just sucks. Seven-year old's need birthday parties. An outdoor picnic gathering is being discussed. Bless her little Maggie heart. 

Then I went to Publix and picked up a few things I needed and then I came home and I've mostly been working on the last letter of Maggie's name for the blanket. I have a little more to go on it but I can do that tomorrow. It feels like I've had a very busy week but only because I've been out of the house, even out of Lloyd, at least three times. 
Phew! 
That's a lot for me. I need some recovery time and plan on getting that tomorrow. It looks like it might be a good day to hang sheets on the line and I have a few things I'd like to do in the garden but of course before I get distracted, I have to finish that name blanket. Oh, how I hope Maggie likes it! A blanket isn't as fun as a doll or a new tablet but it will keep her cozy and warm and we are about to get some cool-ish days. I'll be back in the cashmere tomorrow, I imagine. I've already had to put on a pair of socks this evening. 

Dear god but I am boring today. I'm sorry! I apologize. Let's face it though- not every day is exciting, even in Lloyd. 
I'll zest things up though by putting jalapeños  in the cornbread tonight. How's that for exciting? 

And honestly, days that bring no big surprises can be some of my favorites. Surprises can be good and surprises can be bad and no surprises at all can be peaceful. 
Which is just fine with me. 

I hope your day has been peaceful too but if there was a surprise, I hope it was the wonderful, awesome, best kind. Or at least a little lovely. 

Love...Ms. Moon

It Was So Fine

This morning, what felt like warm air bumping into cooler air resulted in great sky grumbling, electricity in lightening form, tornado warnings, and of course rain. The whole thing felt like a good representation of the mishegoss which has been our weather lately here. 

Take all the weathers and toss them in a bowl and see what happens. Or alternatively, take all the weathers, put them in a test tube and set them over a bunsen burner for a few seconds. 
Stand back! Wear your goggles! 

I texted Liz to see if she still wanted to go on our small adventure and she said that if we just left a little later, the rain and wind would clear out according to the radar and she was right. So we headed up to Metcalfe. She drove and I took my embroidery and we talked a blue streak on the way up. We're never quite sure that Mary's will be open and we gave a little cheer when we saw that it was. 

The parking lot was filled with cars which seemed odd when we walked in because there only four other people at one table. We asked Mary about this later and she told us that people had parked in her lot to pick up pecans nearby. 
Of course. 

The inside was bright and cheery, still with the Christmas decorations up, candy canes on the placemats. 

Don't know if you can read the menu but you get a choice of two different meats and several sides or a variety of different hamburgers. The meals cost $8.50 and come with bread and a drink and dessert. 
You will not leave hungry. Also, at the bottom of the menu it says, "Quote- God is love." 
The music playing was both gospel and blues. Also a bit of James Brown. Perfect. And not too loud. 

A man from the corner table of four stopped by to say hello to us on his way out. 

"Now how did y'all find your way to Metcalfe?" he asked. You may wonder how he knew were from out of town but the fact is, I feel quite certain that everyone in Metcalfe knows everyone in Metcalfe. He did not know us therefore we weren't from Metcalfe. 

He introduced himself as Judge Whatever-He-Said-His-Name-Was and told us he lived up the hill. 

And there you go. 

We both chose the roast beef with gravy and rice and fried okra. I got the lima beans and Liz got the green beans. I don't even like lima beans but I knew I would like Mary's lima beans. I was right. It was all delicious. For dessert Mary brought us out pound cake with chocolate sauce. Homemade, of course. 

We talked and ate and talked and ate and it felt so good to be together, to catch up some, to be eating at Mary's. When we paid the bill, I asked Mary if she'd had a good Christmas. 
"It was fine," she said. "I don't really like Christmas." 
"I don't either!" I said. 
She told me that although she loves Jesus and she knows it is better to give than to receive, Christmas always makes her sad, thinking about how many loved ones she has lost over the years who are not with her at Christmas any more and that we have Christmas all twisted up with this giving presents thing. 
"Christmas should be every day," she said. "And not in this crazy way we do it now. We should reach out to those who are not as blessed as we are."
If Mary didn't own a restaurant, I think she should start a church. Or maybe she has one. I don't know but I would not be surprised. I believe that if she did, her preaching would be as genuine and nourishing as the lunches she serves and I have no doubt that she does more good in her community than any preacher could. 

Then we drove on home through the still-gray day but the rain had stopped. It is already feeling cooler and it will be cooler tonight for which I am grateful. 

I worked on Maggie's name embroidery some more when I got home. I have part of the I and the E to do and then it will be a simple thing to sew the name part onto the quilt. I can get that done tomorrow with any luck. 

It's been a very good day for my soul. I'm trying to remember how long I've been friends with Liz. I met her at the birth center I worked at for awhile many years ago. She, too, was a nurse and took call there as an assistant. I fell in love with her immediately and that love has not waned. I feel that there is nothing I cannot tell her, nothing that has ever once risen up to make me doubt our friendship. Not for one second. She is an amazing person and I stand in awe of her energy, her sense of adventure, her willingness to help a friend or a stranger in any way, her absolute dedication to saying "yes" to life. 

There are people who avow goodness and light and there are people who quietly go about spreading those things. 
Liz is one of those. 

She is also as profane as I am, as funny as I would like to be, profoundly knowledgable on subjects ranging from wildlife to river systems to proper English teas. And the list of people who love her dearly is too long to even try and comprehend. 

She is simply and truly a splendid human being. 

My life is so much richer for knowing her. As so many others' are as well. 

What a beautiful day it has been, crazy weather and all. I am fortunate to have had it. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Cat Tale And More

There's my bold little tiger cat striding over the carpet of the finally-falling Bradford pear leaves. 
I had a talk with her last night. I swear- I think that cat understands English but many cats do understand human speech if not all. She looked so miserable as she often does and I told her that I understood that Jack makes her life so hard and that she would be so much happier if he didn't live here but that I can't kill him and really, he's a fine cat except to her. She gave me a rather sad and agonized sound as if she truly understood. 
And then this morning Mr. Moon asked if I'd seen Jack. I had not and he hadn't slept with us either, which he generally does for at least part of the night. Jack used to be somewhat of a come-and-go cat but in the last few years he has settled into a mostly napping cat and he was nowhere to be seen in any of his favorite spots. It was worrisome and I think that both Mr. Moon and I thought about what I'd told Maurice last night about killing Jack WHICH OF COURSE I WOULD NEVER DO but we superstitious humans sometimes feel that our words alone can do harm. 
"Oh god, have I killed him?" I thought. 
Finally Glen remembered that he'd been upstairs two days ago trying to figure out a place to put a...device...that he was trying out to get better internet without having to deal with our phone company (in Lloyd, our choices are limited) and then he remembered the time that we had inadvertently closed Jack up in one of the bedrooms upstairs for over two weeks (I am not kidding you) and somehow he survived just fine without food or water. I suppose he ate mice and lizards or something and although he was thinner when we finally figured this out, he appeared not to have suffered any other ill effects, not even of the emotional kind. 
So, upstairs my husband went and yes, he had shut Jack into a bedroom again and luckily, this time he only had to spend less than forty-eight hours up there. He ran to the food bowl and gorged himself and then promptly threw up in the hallway. 
He appears to be fine now, sleeping it off, as it were. 

I wonder if Maurice had her hopes dashed when he reappeared this morning. 

Probably. 

Jessie and the boys came out this morning. It was the last day of the kids' winter break and she needed to get them out of the house and she and I needed a nice catch-up. Work has been hard for her with the constant under-staffing and she's also had a lot of company in the last week or so. Throw in the fact that Levon had about five days of almost constant stomach pain that was keeping him up at night and which the doctor at the Urgent Care could not figure out, and she is a tired girl. But Levon is feeling better and when they got here I showed the boys how Ralph works. I had a conversation on the phone with August last week about Ralph. He wanted to know all about the robot vacuum and how it worked and did it have wheels and did it go back to its charger by itself and so on and so forth. 
Of course Ralph chose today to go a little wonky but all he really needed was for his bin to be cleaned out more thoroughly than I was cleaning it and his filter replaced along with the bag that the dirt and dust and cat hair and human hair gets sucked up into. Frankly, I can't believe that the bag didn't need changing after the first time the poor thing vacuumed the whole house. So we had a pretty good time figuring out what to do for Ralph and then we went to Monticello. We had lunch at the Mexican restaurant and then we went to Wag the Dog and both boys got toys. Levon got some sort of fidget device and August got a princess Duplo castle. I got three glasses, a spool of ribbon, a plant stand, and two vintage-y kid books. I am a sucker for those things. I almost have to bribe the boys to let me read them to them. And meanwhile, August is reading on his own now, and so is Maggie. This is, for me, the most wonderful and amazing achievement that a human being can make. Or at least one of them. Top three, maybe. 

We came home and got Ralph back on his task and the boys followed him around and then August built his castle and Levon and I read one of our favorite books which is Amos and Boris. August joined us and then wanted to hear some Richard Scarry but I made them listen to one of the books I'd bought today first which was about a penguin who loved wearing his pink pajamas although all the other penguins laughed at him. 
A koala bear cub was involved too. It was okay but it was no Amos and Boris. 
Then some Richard Scarry and then they had to go.  

And therefore it's been a fine day and I also worked a little on Maggie's name blanket, embroidering the letters. It just occurred to me this afternoon that her birthday is in FOUR DAYS and I need to push that project up to Priority One which means sitting and watching endless mindless TV while stitching. 
Someone has to do it. Might as well be me. 

If all goes as planned, I'll be driving to Metcalfe, Georgia with Liz, (not Lis) for lunch at Mary's Kitchen restaurant tomorrow. Bless my Liz and bless my Lis who do not give up on me and whom I cherish with all of my crazy heart. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Nature And Stuff

The weather just cannot make up its mind around here. Was it only a week ago that we had icicles on the garden fence? Today it got up to almost eighty and was humid as hell. It feels like spring and I even saw a bluebird on my walk this morning which always seems like a special blessing, getting a glimpse of what looks like a tiny, concentrated piece of the sky, so intensely blue, so quick, so pretty. 
Meanwhile, the Bradford pears in my backyard have finally and at last turned gold and are dropping off. They've been green as a grass snake up until about yesterday. 
That plant above with its glorious berries is known as pyracantha around here. Isn't it intense? Can you see the small magnolia growing up behind it to the left? 

So yes, I did take a walk today and by the time I got back I was sweaty and unhappy. Mr. Moon had made the mistake of putting on heavy overalls and a flannel shirt to go do some work outside and he had to come in and change. We have no idea how to dress right now. One day we're wearing wool and cashmere, and the next we're barefoot and panting like dogs under a porch. It should start cooling off again by Friday. 

Here's another picture I took on my walk. 

I've taken pictures of this house before. I do not want to go stand in front of it and take a picture straight on because someone lives there. Also they have a little yappy dog who is always on high alert who notifies the world when I deign to even walk by. But I love that house. I so want to go inside of it and see what it looks like, what it smells like. The trees over and around it make me swoon. I wish I knew its history. It sits on a tiny little road named Notre Dame which in and of itself is curious. There are only a few people who live on it and it dead-ends into a piece of property with a prefab house on it which is not very far from the convenience store, Subway, and the liquor store. That part of the road parallels the road that the Dollar General is on. A little hidden part of Lloyd. 

I went to Publix today. I was out of eggs, for one thing. Can you believe that after all these years of having bowls of eggs all over my kitchen, bountiful amounts of them, that suddenly, I have not a one and eggs cost six dollars a dozen! What the hell? We were so spoiled but I will say that I never, ever took those beautiful eggs for granted. Every day that I gathered eggs I was thrilled again at the miracle of them. 
I cannot think that I will go the rest of my life without having chickens again. It's just unimaginable. How I miss their constant presence, their soft communications, their busy scratching and examining of the dirt for the things they loved to eat. 

Anyway, Publix. 
Y'all- I have either got to get out more or else just throw in the towel and admit to being an agoraphobe and I do not want to do that. Shutting myself off from others is not a healthy way to live. This has gone far beyond me not wanting to do things like go to concerts or the mall. Even just being in Publix is overwhelming to me and it wasn't that crowded and there was not one situation or person who made me feel threatened. I cannot quite explain it. I do not even really want to talk about it because it makes me emotional. 
I think that at least a small part of it is that I find it hard to separate myself from those around me in the sense that I am constantly aware of their feelings. I had to pick up a prescription (Publix has a pharmacy) and because of a change in our insurance, things became complicated and people were lined up behind me and I hated being the cause of them having to wait and I hated the thought that the woman behind the counter helping me was stressed out because my situation was taking so much of her time. I apologized over and over. 

When I went to check out, the woman in front of me wrote a check for her groceries and yes, she was older although I doubt older than me. And she first wrote the wrong amount on her check so she had to tear that one up and start again and then she filled in something else incorrectly on the second one and it took a long time. I was not in a hurry but I have to admit that I was a bit annoyed and that fact made me feel bad about myself because who cared how long I had to wait? Not even me. 
And at the same time, I did not want the woman to know that I was annoyed. She was doing her best. 

These are the sorts of things that people who overthink everything and who do not have the necessary wall between themselves and others feel. And then of course we feel guilt and as if we are being ridiculous because we FEEL SO MUCH! 
Too much. 

Oh well. I will be Scarlett O'Hara and think about these things tomorrow when I am stronger. 

Meanwhile, here's what the trees in my backyard looked like tonight before the sun set. 

Can you see the Spanish Moss, Ms. Merlot? 

It is not a moss at all, really. It belongs in the bromeliad family. There is a very good article about it HERE. 

Be well, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

First Day Of The Year We Call 2023

That was Maurice yesterday, helping me as I trimmed the confederate rose. No matter where I am in the yard or what I am doing, she always shows up, absolutely and completely uninterested in me or what I am doing, or so she says. She's my faithful little tiger cat and I do love her strange and confused soul. Right now she has one eye that is weepy and red around it but I am treating it with antibiotic ointment with golden seal mixed in and it is getting better. She probably got in a fight as tigers will do. 

Our 2023 began quite well. Mr. Moon went duck hunting and no one ended up in the hospital AND our old and very dear friends Karen and David came by for a breakfast visit. It was incredibly good to see them. They live in Tennessee but have kin right down the road from here and so we get to see them occasionally. We catch up on all the news of kids and grandkids, and each other. I love them so much. At one point when I was making breakfast and we were all in the kitchen, Karen said something that moved my heart so much I had to go and hug her hard. There are people on this earth that we must be meant to know and love. We find them and we just know it and even if you see them only rarely, the connection is still so strong, so real that there is no denying it. 
I made us a big old Sunday breakfast with biscuits and sausage and eggs and grits. I put out the rest of the tomato gravy I'd made and home made peach preserves. It was a feast. And then they had to get on the road back to home. 

I did a little more yard work this afternoon. Not too much, but it was prickly work because I was trimming the sego palms. The people who lived here before us planted these things right in front of the front porch and I am not sure why. I have nothing against a sego palm, even though they are not truly palms at all (we have discussed this many times) and although they are interesting and ancient plants, they are a bitch to trim due to their prickly leaves which can slice through a glove and deliver a puncture wound, and every time I trim them I get a rash on my forearms. 

Do you know what this is? 

Don't let your mind descend into the gutter. It is not an orange testicle but is, in fact, the seed of the female Sego. Her center looks like this. 

Isn't that just the most fascinating twisty, sexy structure? 
The male Segos grow an extremely masculine cone which sends out a pollen that pollenates the seed of the female. 
So I do not mind the plant in and of itself but it's really not the most appropriate plant to have growing in front of a porch. And we have many of them. I did half of them today and got a garden cart full of fronds. 

Their needles are not as sharp and deadly as the ones on the Canary Island date palm but until one of those comes along, these will do. Speaking of which, Mr. Moon told me that he'll rip out those date palms for me and I am so happy about that. I swear on a stack of Bibles that I'll never plant another one of those lethal-weapon plants again in my life. 

So since we live here in the Deep, Moss-Dangling South and it is New Year's Day, black-eyed peas and greens must be eaten. This is the way of it and if you do not follow that ritual you are risking...I don't know. Your life, I guess. Good luck for the new year, health, happiness, money, success, a good sex life. ALL OF IT! 

Not that I really believe any of that shit. 

However...

I swear I wasn't drunk when I took those pictures. 

Anyway, if I was being truly traditional, I would have cooked the peas with hog jowl or at the very least, a ham hock but I had neither. The ham I bought at Costco out of pure panic before Christmas is in the freezer, still wrapped in its shiny red Christmas foil. But I got a little ham steak at Publix, or to be honest, Mr. Moon got it for me, and I've cooked the peas with some of that. It won't be nearly as good because hog jowls are about 90% fat but I added a little olive oil to perk it all up a little. Or grease it all up a little. The greens are from the garden and have a half a piece of bacon cut up in them along with small-diced turnips and onions. I'll cook some rice and heat up some bread and we will eat it up and thus ensure our great and good fortune for the year. 
If nothing else, it's real good food. 

So yeah, here it is, a new year but like I said yesterday, I don't really get too invested in the calendar and how we mark time. I had a good day of sharing a meal with friends, being with my husband, working a little in the yard. I am not feeling quite as overwhelmed by all the yard work that needs doing, realizing that I can go at it slowly, slowly, at my own pace, especially now in the more fallow part of the year although very little stops growing entirely in our part of the world, no matter the season. I am honestly delighted with the new pruners and loppers I got for Christmas which make that job much easier. I am grateful that I am still able to do these things, albeit more slowly. I swear- I do not know what I would do with my time if I didn't have a yard to tend. 

I guess everything has to go a little slower as we age. Everything except my emotions, it would seem. It takes so very little for me to weep, to feel tenderness, pain, and gratefulness. I suppose it's sort of like getting to the last days of a vacation, the last pretty bon-bons in a box of fancy chocolates, the final pages of a book that we do not want to finish because it has delighted us so much. Every moment, every taste, every page takes on more weight and more meaning and more sweetness when we can see the inevitable ending rising up quickly before us. 

Oh- here's another thing that goes so swiftly as we age- time. 

This is hardly a cosmic revelation, but a simple truth. 

Speaking of which, it is time for me to go cook the rice. 

Love...Ms. Moon