Beans In Jars

When I sat down here on the back porch about fifteen minutes ago to answer comments from yesterday, the sky suddenly went cement gray and the trees began tossing their branches as if they were trying to get rid of them. Crows were cawing, hawks were shrieking, and the song birds were making loud, screechy noises. I have to say it was a little scary. I looked on my phone which knows all, tells all, to see if there was a weather alert but there was not. It's calmed down now although it's still very gray and I do believe the temperature has probably dropped at least five degrees since that wind began. I will not complain about that. Rob Nucatola, my go-to meteorologist, says that there is a possibility of rain and perhaps storms tonight. And then our temperatures and humidity are supposed to become more reasonable for at least a few days which thank god because it's really been horrible, as I said yesterday. 

I didn't even try to do much outside today. Mr. Moon reset the fence posts on the garden gate but then ran into some other problem and couldn't find the tools he needed so he came in, cooled off, and ate his lunch. He worries me because he is so stubborn and will push himself far harder than I think he should. 
"Quit worrying!" he tells me. 
He really does not know me, does he?

This happened today. 

I picked so many beans this morning that combined with ones I've picked the past few days, I knew I had enough to begin canning. I got my pressure canner out of the box that has been stored in the pantry all winter and spring and went over the instructions in the booklet that came with it very carefully. I only canned a few batches of beans in it last year and needed a refresher course. Unlike most instructions that come with products these days, this little booklet is thorough, concise, and easily understood which I appreciate very much. 

I removed the ends of my beans and snapped them into bite-sized pieces, filled my jars with them, added boiling water and a tiny bit of salt, and then put the lids and bands on the clean jars. There's a whole process that has to be done properly to ensure the safety of the finished product and I would assume, the safety of the person doing the canning. Part of that process is letting steam escape from the valve stem before you put the pressure weights on it and here's a picture of that. 

I've been yearning to do some black and white photos lately so here's one. 

Anyway, blah, blah, blah. No one wants to hear about how to pressure can green beans. But here's the finished product. 

On Joanne's towel.  

Seven pints and one half-pint. And thus it has begun. Beans for the winter! I am so excited to know that on nights when I just am so tired of figuring out vegetables to serve with supper, I can just open up and heat a can of our own rattlesnake beans. 

Last night I made some squash soup and it was so very good. I have determined that the soup may be the very best way to utilize summer squash in that you can take four nice-sized squashes and turn them into two servings of soup. That's getting your squash nutrients! 

We've already had squash and onions and I will be making squash croquettes and also air-fried squash. Yes, here in the south we fry everything and the air-fryer has been a godsend to me because I do not like to pan fry and never, ever deep fry. Now if you asked me if there's a difference in the taste and texture of food fried in oil and foods air-fried, I would gladly tell you that yes, there is. But the air-fried versions are still delicious, the stove doesn't get grease-spattered, and of course there are the health considerations. 

Pass the ketchup and hot sauce and let us be happy. 

Mr. Moon's gone to some Coastal Conservation Association dinner this evening. That may be the name of it. Whatever it is, he won't be home for supper tonight. I suppose I need to get in that kitchen and fix me something to eat. We've gone through all the leftovers, which is sort of unbelievable. 

I was going to write a whole thing about the praying emoji on Facebook and how I am sick and tired of so-called Christians posting that they are praying for someone which is so absurd and which enrages me for some reason and then May texted us all about a chiropractor she went to who had Bible verses printed up and on the walls and now I'm even more pissed off. And the right-wingers keep talking about how they're not even allowed to say Merry Christmas anymore. 
As my old and dear friend Balboa would have said, "Bite me."

But here's a nice picture. 

Look at that pretty little lizard. I hope that he/she is eating Georgia Thumper nymphs like popcorn. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Hey, You Sucker, You!

Here we have one of the many beds of a jungle's worth of crocosmia that live in my yard. And look closely- can you see what I see? 

A bloom! One bloom in that whole mess and if I get two more, I'll be shocked. But one bloom is better than no blooms. I should pick that thing and bring it in, put it in a vase and carry it around with me until it dies to get the most possible enjoyment out of it. 

I was busy today. No need to go into great detail but I had to do some of the things that make me anxious for no discernible reason. Things that involve money and mail and contracts, etc. Not big deal things either. But it takes a lot of my bandwidth to do these things. I took the trash and then went by the post office to mail what I needed to mail. Mr. Moon asked me to buy stamps and the only two kinds they had were either American flag stamps or Purple Heart stamps. 
What? 

I got a page of the Purple Heart ones. Glen keeps the Purple Heart his daddy was awarded in WWII on his dresser. But come on. Where are the bird stamps, the flower stamps, the Harriet Tubman stamps, the Pete Seeger stamps? Not in Lloyd, I guess. 

And then, because I had made up my mind to do it, I put that trowel and some gloves in my pocket and walked down to where the roses bloom. 
Y'all- it is so hot already. And it's affecting both me and Mr. Moon more every year. He said to me this morning, "What are we going to do this summer?" 
"Stay inside, I guess," I said. 
Neither one of us is really a stay-inside sort of person. There's the garden and he always has projects like working on cars that are done outside or in the garage which is definitely not air-conditioned. And of course working in the yard is part of my life, as is taking walks but in this heat and humidity, I simply cannot do those things. I keep thinking about all the Floridians who get second houses in the North Georgia mountains or in North Carolina and I totally understand it now. A little cabin on a creek situated under a broad canopy of trees in a cool mountain valley sounds like heaven right now. Except for how I feel about mountains which is not that positive. 

It's about time for us to start making our semi-regular trips to the Wacissa. Nothing else in this world can cool us off like the water in a spring-fed river. 

But. Back to the rose. 
So I discovered that I know nothing about roses. Well, I was already aware of that but now I'm even more sure. That rose I found is a sucker rose which means that the plant sends out thick root-like things from which other plants grow. So when you dig up one of the plants, you have to try and get the ones that have rooted. But they're still going to have the long, long suckers. I should have taken my clippers too. 

Live and learn.
But I dug up three different plants and brought them home, soaked with sweat and completely red-faced.
Realizing that I had no idea how to propagate a sucker rose, I asked Google about the subject, which told me to watch a little video, which I did. I liked it because it was short and sweet and got right to the point. I felt confident after watching it and also, slightly hysterical because of what the closed captions said at the end of it. Let me show you.

"So if you have any further questions on suffering, please leave them below the video."

I have so many questions on suffering, mainly, why do I feel such a deep need to do it?"

I left no comments. 
But I did go to the GDDG and buy some potting soil because we are all out, as well as some half-and-half to make squash soup with tonight. 

I came home and did my best to follow the directions from the video. Here we are. 

Two of those three plants have roots already. I think they will do well. We shall see about the third. 
After I did that, I watered all the porch plants and threw out some more zinnia seeds in the kitchen garden bed and watered those in as best I could. 

And then I did a thing that I've been wanting and needing to do for awhile which, again, for one reason or another was causing me some anxiety although this was not a really bad kind but more of a slight feeling of oh, please, I want to get this right. But I did it. 

Here are the tops of the suckers I cut off the roses today. I might try to root them too but for now, I am just enjoying them as they are. 

Thank you all for encouraging me to go get those plants. If I get served with a warrant for theft, I will not cite any of you as co-conspirators in my crime. 
I promise. 

Love...Ms. Moon

The Pink, The Pure, And The Putrid

Here's the little wild rose I discovered in a pine field beside one of my walking routes. It has a bee on it, as you can see. I am just so charmed with this plant. WHAT is it doing there? I noticed another one today, growing a few feet away and I want so badly to dig this smaller one up and bring it home. But would that be wrong? I know that a lot of people wouldn't give it a second thought. I have no doubt that whoever owns that field doesn't even know it's there and wouldn't care if they did. Plus, that plant is right in the middle of a path that looks as if it gets mowed now and then so it's just going to get cut back. 
I'm rationalizing theft. 
I remember when I first moved to Lloyd and began checking out places to walk, I found a little dirt road that's not far from here where I still occasionally walk. The road was lined on both sides by wild ferns and I started taking a spoon with me- yes, a spoon- to dig some up from the hard clay ground. I had no compunction about doing this and I'm not sure why. I planted them in what is now the camellia bed which at that time was basically a big old weedy area that I worked hard to clear. Some of them are still growing and they bring me pleasure. 
So why is the thought of digging this rose up and bringing it home feel so, well, not right? Especially now that I know there are two plants. I would only take one. 
I will ponder this, as I do, and one of these days maybe I'll stick a trowel in my pocket (is that a digging device in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?) along with a nice sized plastic bag and have my way with the little beauty growing down the road. 
I feel evil just talking about this. 

So today went by like the shadow of a fish in a fast-moving river. I don't know why. I took a walk and actually got out before noon which was a novelty. It was still way too hot. I've gotten out my BIG porch fan and plugged that daddy in. 

Now that fan will cool you off. By the time I was back to practically normal body temperature, Candie had arrived to clean. For one reason and another she hasn't been able to make it for several weeks so it was very nice to have her back. 
And then, because I love overheating so much I picked the green beans and squash. Those jar lids are going to come in handy very soon!

I got out my recipe for cream of squash soup and I know that there was something I added to that recipe to increase the deliciousness but damn if I can remember what. Another thing to ponder. Probably some kind of cheese and nutmeg. Or something. 

And then Liz Sparks came out to bring Mr. Moon her dad's truck that he was buying. Long story there but the truck needed to be sold and Glen bought it. So I got to spend some time with her, talking and visiting which was wonderful as always, while Glen filled out all the forms. He drove her home but first I had to give her a bag of vegetables to take with her. 

Just a few minutes ago she sent this picture of what she was cooking in her wok.

And that makes me happy. 

I've been reading updates on the Trump trial all day long. It's been a day fraught with tension, from what I've read. Stormy Daniels took the stand and from what the NYT's reporter said, gave quite the descriptive narrative of having sex with DT. 
I know. I KNOW. Go wash with bleach. Then inject a little as I hear that doing so may rid you of the Corona virus. 
In all seriousness, this trial is a big deal, from Trump's lawyers and accountants talking about how he handles his business to hearing about the sordid underbelly of the grocery store tabloid industry to having a former porn star sit on a witness stand, swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and then relate what sounds like one of the worst possible encounters of a sexual nature that ever happened and which does not, in the least, make a former president of the United States look like anything but like the slimy, ugly, grasping little man he is. 

As I so often say, that is enough of THAT. 

Stay tuned for more adventures in gardening and trial updates. Not to mention the purloining of plants. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Burning Sensation

Well I had quite an experience last night. You may not really be able to tell but I burned the shit out of my left hand. I was making a fabulous Southern Sunday Supper and part of the menu was slow-baked pork loin ribs finished with barbecue sauce. Not let me say right here that they were quite possibly the tenderest, most delicious ribs I've ever personally eaten. But, in the process of the finishing-off process, I took the sheet pan that the ribs were on out from under the broiler to brush on more barbecue sauce and instead of reaching for the edge of the counter which was way too close to the edge of the pan (my fault), I grabbed the pan and it was hot as hell. 
I managed to jerk my hand back so fast that my fingers weren't even involved. So I didn't grasp it, thank goodness. But I seared that area you can see in the picture right nicely. 
I knew that I'd fucked up royally. You know how sometimes when you fall or when you hit your head on something or whatever, and you just KNOW you've done something really not good to your body? 
Well, that was me last night. 

I immediately went and got an ice cube and grasped it thinking that maybe, maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. Ice is my go-to for burns mainly because it is so instantly pain-relieving. I managed to finish making supper with one hand, my burned one wrapped in a towel-wrapped ice bag, and held my hand in a bowl of ice water while I was still eating. That was all fine but even a few seconds without the ice resulted in severe pain. Burns just hurt. 
I sent Mr. Moon out to that overgrown aloe patch and had him bring me in a leaf that I sliced the saw-like edges off of and then split to get the goo and I applied that to the area frequently. You're not supposed to use ice on burns because that, too, can damage the skin. However, I completely ignored that figuring that since the ice was in a plastic bag and not directly on my skin I probably was not in danger of frostbite.

The pain remained extremely intense for about four hours. I kept checking it to see if it was blistering and by all rights, it surely should have. But it never did. I continued the aloe and ice all that time and finally, about 12:30 the pain abated enough that I thought I could sleep. But before I turned out the light, I spread some comfrey ointment on it that Liz Sparks had made and given me a few years ago and that was it for the pain. I mean, it was like a miracle. 

I am so grateful. It could have been so much worse.

The whole incident reminded me of a time I burned that same hand as a child. 

See that little pit? That's the scar I have from when that happened. I was home alone because my mother had some sort of meeting or gathering after work and I was in the kitchen and thought I felt something warm near the stove and proceeded to put my hand on the burner which my mother had accidently left on low after she took her percolator coffee pot off of it that morning before we all left for school.  
I surely learned a lesson that afternoon about not testing burners to see if they're on by touching them. 

But the thing was, Mama wasn't home. My grandparents who lived right behind us were at their house so I ran to get help from them. My hand was already in terrible pain at that point and I was probably in a bit of shock. I did not, at that time, know the wonders of ice and of course we only had the ice that we made in those horrible aluminum ice trays with the handle that you pulled to release the cubes and there was no way I could do that with one hand. So to Granny's I went. 
Poor woman. She didn't know what to do for me either so she got out her favorite all-purpose remedy which was a little green bottle of Campho-Phenique. It looked like this. 

They still make the stuff and it's mostly used to treat cold sores and bug bites. It does indeed have camphor in it which can have a soothing, cooling effect on those things. It also has or had carbolic acid in it which was probably where the antiseptic part came in. And although it was labeled as pain-relieving, it did not relieve the pain of a very severe second-degree burn on a little girl's hand. In fact, it made it much worse. 
Now that burn did blister. And what I remember is the agony I was in for hours. We went to the Anchor restaurant that night to get clam chowder and a "hamburg" as Granny called it for our supper. My brother, my grandparents and me. I recall sticking my hand out of the window of Granddaddy's Rambler on our way to the restaurant to let the rushing air cool my hand and later on, in the restaurant, holding my glass of ice water to try and relieve the pain. 

So last night, when I burned that same hand, the memories came rushing back and I remembered the way my skin somehow magically bubbled and turned into translucent blisters that seemed a part of me and yet not a part of me. I do not remember what happened when my mother got home. Did she take me to see her good friend, our pediatrician, Dr. Bob the next day? I doubt it. Did she put something else on the burn? I do not know. In those days, home first aid consisted of mainly iodine or Mercurochrome and Bandaids. And Campho-Phenique. All I know is that I still have that tiny scar and that today I keep looking at my palm to wonder at the fact that there are no blisters there. Perhaps the ice or the aloe did the trick or perhaps it isn't as bad a burn or maybe my skin is much tougher and thicker now after a lifetime of use than it was when I was eight years old.

But once again, I have learned yet another lesson which is to be even more careful than I usually am in the kitchen which is probably the most dangerous room in the house with its blades and its glass and its variety of heating elements. Not to mention things like hot oil and boiling water. The kitchen'll kill you if you don't watch out. 

Guess what I bought today?

I did not pick beans today, thinking to give the plants time to mature a little and when I went outside to dump the compost this morning I gave the vines a quick inspection and let us just say that tomorrow I am going to need the big basket. 

Here we go! 

Be safe, y'all. Look before you grab. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Florida Stuff And Other Things

The magnolias drop their spent leaves in spring and then come the new ones along with the blossoms. The lowering sun behind them shows the almost translucent baby ones so nicely. Eventually they'll thicken and turn their darker shade of green but for right now, they are pert and pretty and sassy in their showy newness. 
I think they are extra pretty today because we did get some rain last night, not long after I said we'd gotten none. It came down pretty hard for awhile and wasn't just a drive-by droplet situation. In fact, it was so nice that Mr. Moon and I sat out on the front porch for a few minutes to watch it, listen to it, smell it, take in that sweet blessing. I thought we got a decent amount of rain but the weather widget said it was only .3 inches and the rain gauge garden carts say about the same. Still, it was better than nothing and something to be glad for. 

Here's what the sun does to some palm fronds and the wild phlox that will be blooming soon. 

Soon that area will be a blur of pink. You can see a blooming salvia there in the front. I am afraid it doesn't get enough light and I don't feel like we're getting much bang for our buck with those plants. Which I didn't plant but you know what I mean. 

I picked my third basket of beans in as many days. Also another squash. Maurice was once again my faithful companion. 

Do you see the holes in some of the bean leaves? That is the damage done by the nymphs of the Georgia Thumper grasshopper or, as they are sometimes called, Lubbers. Whatever you call them, they are demons, each and every one. Here's what they looked like last week.

No, I did not take that picture but that's exactly what they looked like on my eggplant plants three days ago and honey, I smashed as many of them as I could with my bare hands. I am sorry, all you Buddhists, but these things are in no danger of extinction and if they have souls (and I'm sure they do), I'll just deal with that when I meet the Great Record Keeper Of Good And Bad Deeds In The Sky. 

They've gotten bigger than that in the past few days and are now about the size of normal grasshoppers. I've seen them on the beans and have smashed those too. As adults, they are about three inches long and I figure if we ate grasshoppers, it would only take about half a dozen of them to make a hearty meal. They are huge. 

So what else is there to talk about on this Sunday? I guess since the Rolling Stones are the official band of the Church of the Batshit Crazy, I will report that reviews of their performance in New Orleans at Jazz Fest were spectacular. It would appear that Jagger is in fine fettle and doing the job of a man half his age. Let's just call it the year for the octogenarians. If Mick can do a two-hour show, dancing, singing, and moving like Jagger in the heat and humidity of New Orleans, Louisiana, Joe Biden can still be president. 
I so proclaim it. 

Okay. Speaking of that situation- we all know that it is rumored that Trump wears adult diapers due to incontinence. Which look- I am making no judgements about. But his followers have not only decided that this is not a problem, they have embraced the whole issue in the way only Trump supporters can do. 

Remember back in 2016 when Herr Stinkin'Shit said that he could shoot someone in the middle of 5th Avenue in NY and he wouldn't lose any voters?
Well he was sure right about that. Any day now I'm expecting him to do just that to prove how beloved he is. THERE IS NOTHING THIS MAN CAN DO THAT HIS CULT FOLLOWERS WILL NOT CHEER! 

Sorry for ruining your Sunday. But since it's already ruined, let me point out that Florida's new abortion law went into effect last week. This law makes it illegal for a woman to get an abortion past six weeks of pregnancy. Now let me give you a little background on what this means. Women's pregnancies begin at conception, correct? 
Well, not in legal terms. Or medical. 
A woman's pregnancy is considered to have begun on the first day of her last period. This is how the "dates of confinement" are figured. In other words, due-dates. So technically, when you get pregnant, the very moment conception occurs, according to the law you are already two weeks pregnant. So, four weeks later, which is when the cut-off is to get an abortion in Florida, a woman is only two weeks past a missed period. And many women bleed a little bit at the time of implantation  of the fertilized egg which can be and often is, confused with a very light period. This occurs at the time a woman would normally get her period. 
Also, a pregnancy test is most valid after a period is missed. So there is a two-week span of time for a woman in Florida to figure out that she may be pregnant, take a pregnancy test, discover she's pregnant, find an abortion provider, and get an abortion. 

A safe, legal abortion, that is. 

And let me tell you as one who has been there, the first few weeks of any pregnancy are generally spent in denial. Especially when it was not a pregnancy that was planned. And many, many women have periods that are not in the least "regular." They may come once every four weeks, eight weeks, or six weeks. That's just the way it is. 

So all of these things and many more are why I am so focused on my yard and garden right now. I can't do a thing about Trump and I can't do a thing about the abortion law in Florida although I did sign a petition to get an amendment on a ballot so that women in Florida will not be denied the right to abortion before fetal viability which is around 24 weeks. We will be voting on that soon.

Hey! Here's a picture of what a hogwire tomato cage looks like. 

And here's a picture of a trellis made of posts and hogwire fencing that tomatoes can be tied to for support. 

And one more picture of the novelist Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings standing at the gate in her fence at her home in Cross Creek, Florida. 

I feel like part of a long line of Florida women. Trust me- MK Rawlings would have told Ron DeSantis to fuck straight off to hell. I will not even mention the fact that the woman had guns and knew how to use them. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Souls Can Sag Just Like Skin And Flesh

Yes, yes. It's the time of year when photos of baskets with vegetables in them will be even more prominent here at Bless Our Hearts than during the winter. At least they'll mostly be different vegetables. As you can see, I'm still picking kale. I refuse to buy lettuce of any type while we've still got greens to make salad of. That's the first squash picked of the season and as to the green beans- well, that is Day Two of the Great Green Bean Season. I got more today than I did yesterday. My plan is to get out the pressure canner and just leave it out on the stove because I'm going to be canning some green beans. I suppose I'll pickle some of them too but the few pints I canned at the end of last summer were incredibly delicious and a real treat in winter. 
A real treat. 
Dear god. Who AM I? Someone writing an article for the church newsletter about the joys of Jello salad? 
Well, whatthefuckever. Those beans were really good and I doubt I've ever had better canned beans. 
The ones we ate last night with scrubbed baby potatoes were fantastic. Sometimes I wonder why we go to all this effort to grow vegetables and then can or pickle them, but then I go to the store and buy some of their "fresh" vegetables and there's just no comparison. 

I went back out this afternoon to finish up my weeding. We were supposed to maybe, possibly, get some rain this afternoon but it did not show up. And not another drop shows up on the ten-day forecast. So weird after we got all that rain and everything flooded. It's dry as Satan's tongue around here right now. Anyway, I got the rest of the weeds pulled. Mr. Moon's out there right now digging up a rotten fence post I think. Both of the posts that hold the gate need replacing. And he's bought hog wire (yes, that's a thing) to make tomato cages because some of the tomatoes are already getting too big for plain old store-bought cages and staking them isn't what he wants to do. 

I also finished pulling up a big old clump of border grass in the front yard. And then that was enough for me and outdoor work today. 

So last night at 8:04 I got a text from Owen saying, "I am having fun." 

Nothing could have made me happier. 
Today I sent him a text asking if last night was really good and if he had danced. He responded, "I did dance and it was a lot of fun."
So hurray! 

And those are the things that have made me happy today. Which is a lot. But overall, I'm having a bit of a rough patch. It's not horrible by any means, but I'm still having a hard time getting up in the morning and feeling as if I have the motivation to keep on with it all. I know that's ridiculous. I have so much richness in my life, even within the small scale in which I live it. And I have so much love around me and within me, both for the people I adore and for the place where I live. But honestly, the radius of my safety zone is becoming smaller and smaller and that can't be good.

I'm not sure what I need to do to break out of this cycle and sometimes I think that it's all fine. Just because I thought that by this age I'd know myself and have figured it all out, it doesn't make it so. 

And that has been another eye-opening lesson in older age. We may get wiser as we get older due to experience but we do not necessarily get smarter or more adept at acceptance. We just don't. 

Well. There will be more tomorrow, I'm sure. And until then, there is this. 

Liz's butterfly. That is the window in my laundry room which is one of my favorite places in the house. The trim of the room and the stained glass in the window made by my darling Lynn and the butterfly all carry the same colors as does the picture that Lily painted me. The light is not right to show the picture but it is beautiful and I love it. The sun which shines into the window almost all day illuminates the butterfly as if she was made to go there. 

And perhaps she was. 

Thank you, Liz. 

Love...Ms. Moon

How Can He Have Grown Up So Fast?

Lily asked me a few days ago if it would be possible for me to pick up Owen and take him to his eighth grade formal dinner dance that was going to be held tonight. Parental work schedules were not cooperating. Of course I said, "YES!" Not only to be helpful, but also because the opportunity to see my oldest grandson off to his first big social event was not to be passed up. 

You know how much I love that boy. I remember when he was a really little guy and I was taking care of him a lot I used to think, and sometimes say, "I love him too much." 

And I probably love all my grandchildren too much if that's even possible, but it's that first one that flips that grandmother-love switch to ON in the heart. It's that first one that gives you your grandmother name which is fitting, as it was that one who made you a grandmother. 

So I really enjoyed the sweet little ride to the beautiful event location where the dinner and dance are being held. It's on a beautiful piece of land with an old barn where weddings and all sorts of gatherings are held. We talked about being nervous and dancing and if girls asked boys to dance these days (not so much...sigh) and all that stuff. I think he was glad I was the one taking him. I hope he was. I sure did tell him that a lot of girls would want to dance with him because he is tall and handsome and nice and smart and sweet, and, and, and.
He said, "Thank you!" 
And I did not cry until after I'd delivered him to the venue safely and when he got out of the car he said, "I love you, Mer." 
"I love you, Owen," I said. 
And oh, how I do. He is living his life. 

I did more garden work today and pulled a lot more weeds. Not hard work and it wasn't hellish hot but it wearied me. Before I came in to take a shower I picked some kale for a salad and decided to see if there were any beans worth picking. 

Well what do you know? I dug up two potatoes yesterday and I've asked Mr. Moon to dig up a few more so that we can have green beans and potatoes with our dinner. 

I'm pretty excited. 

Last night's soup turned out to be pretty darn good, actually. A dollop of sour cream and the parmesan rinds did not hurt. A few glugs of sherry gave it even more of a more delicate taste. And the bread was delicious. So I do not regret having made that soup. I will point out that there were indeed also fresh things in it- kale and collards and carrots. 

Here are two beautiful things I got in the mail today. 

I think most of us know who sent these incredible handmade lovelies. 

The book is decorated with embroidery, beads, and I am sure natural dye. Not to mention its own piece of jewelry. Within the handmade paper pages of the book, I found that butterfly, also embroidered and beaded. Wire is involved so it can be shaped. 
As I wrote in an email to the artist, she could not have picked more perfect examples of her artwork to send me. I feel so honored and so known.

I will do my Mary thing and figure out where they belong in this house of objets d'art and amusement. I am pretty sure the butterfly has already told me where she wants to be. 

And so here we are. Clean sheets. First sips of a martini, and now I will go snap those beans and scrub some potatoes. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

I Got Myself Back To The Garden

 Mr. Moon should be home in an hour or so and it's about time. This cat needs her daddy human. I can't believe we call each other "mama" and daddy" when we're talking to the cats about each other. 
"Go kiss Daddy, now," I tell Jack when I'm about to turn out the light. And often, he does. 

A minute before I took that picture of Maurice, she was laying on my arm which does hinder my typing. She must have heard something that caught her attention when I snapped that shot because she's obviously in her alert mode. 

I've done something today that I have only ever done a few other times in my life. I've made a soup that may not be fit to eat. I'm not kidding you. It's a kitchen sink/refrigerator soup and I'm usually very good at judging what will and will not go together in a soup of that nature but something went askew in my judgement this afternoon. I think it might be the leftover cauliflower I put in with the chopped olive and lemon juice sauce on it. Or it could be the piece of chicken that I cooked last night with more lemon juice. Or it could be all the greens I put in the soup. Or it could just be that none of those ingredients want to marry and that's that. I keep adding things to try and bring those recalcitrant and diverse flavors together but it just ain't working. I threw in a few parmesan rinds to see if that will mellow it out but I have a feeling I'm throwing good food after bad. I know that when Glen's on the road he snacks a lot which is what we all do, I think, so he's never really hungry when he gets home and I thought a little bowl of soup would be good. Also, when I talked to him one night when he was with his guys, he sort of proudly proclaimed that there wasn't a vegetable in the house so I figured I'd get a few nutrients in him too. 
I have got a nice little loaf of bread rising that I made with yeast and a cup of sourdough discard which I'm hoping will give it some flavor. I let my starter sit idle so long it's taking more than one day of feeding to restore it. 

I worked in the garden today and yes, it was hot. We're up in the 90's now. I saw a meme on FB that said, "Hey, y'all. Florida is still preheating." Which it is. You think it's hot now? Haha! But I managed to finally pull all the bolted collards and lettuce. Under one of my collard plants I found these mushrooms. 

Aren't they amazing? 
As far as I can recall, I've never seen them before. I am almost sure they are Red Cracked or Red Cracking Boletes after doing some google searches. Supposedly you can eat them but they don't seem to be a big favorite for the mushroom gourmands. Plus, the last thing that soup needs is iffy mushrooms added to it. But they are pretty. 

I did some weeding and we have got to mulch. The ground gets hard as a brick. We have huge lawn bags of leaves that Mr. Moon brought home from suburban yards when the oaks were shedding but they're too heavy for me to wrangle. 

The tomatoes are coming along. Here are some cherry tomatoes that are looking promising. 

The tomatoes that I started from Jennifer's seeds that she sent me which are planted in the bags, are growing very well and look quite promising. 

They look a little droopy in that picture because they were just watered and their leaves are a little heavy. I see blooms! And the beans are what you see on the right, there. 

A week from now, I'll be picking baskets full of them. Maybe not the big baskets yet, but baskets nonetheless. 

I can't believe how well the squashes are growing. 

This acorn squash is bigger than my hand now. 

Look at those happy little summer squash! Or crookneck squash, as they are sometimes called. 

This one's going to be ready to eat in a day or so. I need to get out my recipe for summer squash soup with is so good that even squash haters change their minds when they taste it. 

And I guess that's all I have to talk about today. I didn't even leave my yard once and that was fine. As always, it'll be somewhat of a shock to the system to have another person in the house with me but I think I remember how that goes. 

Oh! He just got home! He startled me, and Maurice jumped up and ran outside. It'll take a little while for us all to become acclimated again. But we will. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Birthday Love

Well, there's my darling baby with her darling husband at her birthday lunch. We had such a good time! Lily, Lauren, and Liz Sparks were all there too. 

The restaurant Jessie chose is a good one. I haven't eaten there in years- hadn't even thought about it in years, really. The food is always so fresh, the menu changes daily, and there's something for everyone. I thought I had taken a picture of what I got but somehow, I didn't. Oh well. 
It was a very pretty plate. Very Florida. It was on the salad menu and I guess it was a salad of sorts as there were baby greens on it...under the fried green tomatoes and three large, perfect shrimp. 
Good GAWD, Y'ALL!

I was so very glad that Liz Sparks could come. Thirty five years ago, just about right now, she was with me when I had that baby girl. One of the best things about having a home birth is that you get to have the people with you that you want to be there. No residents you've never met wandering in and out of your room pretending that they know what they're doing, or nurses changing shifts on you just when you've bonded with one. 
I will say that I had far more people with me when Jessie was born than I needed to have. But it was good! I wanted all of them there. They were the people I loved the most in the world and I do not think all of them were actually in the room when I gave birth. 
My husband was there, of course, also Hank, May, and Lily, our dear, dear friend Anne-Helene from Norway, all three of my brothers, my darling Lynn, my midwife Erice. She had been with me for all three of my previous births, even the one I ended up in the hospital with. A different midwife actually caught May but Erice was right there. And she caught Lily which was not an easy birth at all. 
I had met Liz Sparks a year or so before when we were working at the Birth Centre together and we had known we were meant to be from the very start. So I asked her too. 

We talked today about how I'd told her before the birth to please not fucking tell me that I looked beautiful in labor which is something that gets said frequently. Sometimes it's true. Often, it's true. I never felt like it was for me, though. So when Liz got to my house, I was in the bathroom vomiting, which is what I do in labor, and she said, "You're right. You look like a cow." 
It was so funny although I did not appreciate it in the moment. After the birth though, I bought her a wind chime with a cow on it and she says she still has it and it's her favorite wind chime ever. I'm just so grateful I still have her. She has played a huge role in our family and with my children. We were indeed meant to be.

So back to lunch- we all had a very good time talking and celebrating and catching up. Lily and Lauren really do love the new house and they said that the kids all like it very much too. Even Gibson. He loves his new room. Hurray! 

Speaking of Lily, here's the beautiful cheesecake that she made from a description that Vergil texted her of what Jessie had said her dream cake would be.

She did not bake the cheesecake. She has not yet unpacked her kitchen and this all happened last night. Luckily, Lauren had still been a work and brought home a Boar's Head cheesecake from Publix and all the ingredients and Lily took it from there. She had to cut the strawberries on a paper plate with a plastic knife! That's a caramel drizzle and it's got shaved chocolate on top. We didn't eat any at the restaurant so that Jessie and Vergil could take it home and share it with the boys tonight. 

I've been so very emotional today. This is normal for me on my children's birthdays. The days my children were born were the absolute most important days of my life as well as being the most profound and spiritual days of my life. 
And hardest days of my life to be truthful. I am not an easy-birther. But I think that only adds to the great joy and relief and rush of all the love hormones when those babies are finally born and I am holding them in my arms. I literally cannot think of those days without crying. 

The day Jessie was born was rainy and gray but Mr. Moon and I took a lot of walks because walking is how I deal with pain, and the magnolias were in bloom. I will always remember that. And I will also remember that there was a rainbow in the sky when she was born. 
It was so perfect. Her daddy had picked one of those magnolia blossoms and put it in a jar of water and set it on his dresser so one of the first things that baby ever smelled (if babies can smell and I know they can) was a magnolia. 

Well. Enough of that. I need to wipe my eyes and get on with it. 
Besides the birthday lunch I haven't done much. I've felt very tired for no known reason. I went to bed at a reasonable hour last night. It had been a slightly stressful evening in that there was another example of TOO MUCH NATURE. 
Maurice, who I am sure was worried that with Glen gone I might not have enough to eat, provided me with the fruits of her hunting. 
Y'all- it was bad. 
I went into the kitchen bathroom to find what I will only describe here as three separate portions of what I think was a black rat. She had butchered it for me, as a good hunter does. 
There was blood. Also organs. 

What could I do? I managed to get it all cleaned up without puking, all the while screaming, "NO, NO, NO!" which shocked Maurice who went racing from the bathroom, baffled, I'm sure, at my reaction to her noble and generous gift. 

From gecko to guts. What a day.

And then the cat had the temerity to sleep with me. 

And I let her. 

Ah me. 

Oh! And let us not forget- I absolutely must quote my Lynn who always used to say on this day of the year, "First of May, First of May. Outdoor fucking begins today."

Do with that what you will.

Love...Ms. Moon