Name A Topic I Didn't Cover

Here's what the burn pile looked like after I finished trimming the cabbage palms today. Actually, it still looks like that because Mr. Moon has not yet taken a match to it. Well, it's more like a flame thrower. I think that a lot of men (and probably women) love to start fires. I mean, not arson fires, just regular fires that need to be started. The burn pile fires scare me to death but not him. And I do remember the joys of starting fires at camp to cook on. There is something very primally satisfying about that, not unlike growing food. 

Anyway- if you look closely on the right side of the pile you can see the pages of the Evangelical Sunday School manual and on the left side of the pile, near the bottom of it, you can see the crocosmia that has come up from the bulbs that I threw on the burn pile because there is no other other way to deal with them that doesn't just move their stubborn insistence on taking over the world from one place to another. I'm not even sure that fire takes care of the problem. 

I am not an educated trimmer. As in- I have no idea what I'm doing. So I just started lopping away at my poor little cabbage palms but now there is no hindrance to accessing the front porch. 

The garden cart is packed full of fronds and their stems. And look who I found down in the crotch between palm and stem as I was trimming. 

I did a google search and I believe that is a Gray Tree Frog. What an appropriate name! If you want to, you can google "gray tree frog call" and hear what it sounds like in Lloyd at night. Or at least my back yard. It's amazing that such a little critter can make such a big sound. 

I also trimmed back some other cabbage palms I planted in a bed near the kitchen-side of the house. I didn't go as far with these as the other ones because I only wanted to get rid of the fronds that Mr. Moon gets tangled up in, as he says, when he's coming in from the yard. AND I cut back some limbs on the mulberry tree that were almost on the ground. I wonder if I'll get any mulberries this year. I sure didn't get many last year. I think I got one pie's worth. But hope springs eternal, at least when it comes to mulberries. 

*****************

Since I started writing this, about ten things have arisen to take my attention. You know, it is the Super Bowl and although I care absolutely nothing about it at all, Glen did tell me that Jon Batiste was doing the Star Spangled Banner and I would joyfully watch him sing the dreariest hymn in the Methodist hymnal so I went in and watched that and it is my opinion that Jon Batiste has the most beautiful face in the entire world and is a Bodhisattva and an angel and he is quite possibly the most talented musician in the world, I don't know, but I think maybe he is. The only thing marring that beautiful performance was the camera panning in on Mr. Fuckhead and the daughter he'd date if he could get away with it and they should not have done that because Mr. Fuckhead is not fucking worthy of viewing a live Jon Batiste performance in person. 

So Glen had a hankering for some chicken wings which is nothing unusual and the Super Bowl is absolutely an occasion wherein chicken wings must be consumed so he'd gone to Publix to get some and when he got back, I cut up vegetables which are  absolutely an essential accompaniment to chicken wings as well as the blue cheese dressing that goes with them so I made him up a lovely platter with celery and cucumbers and cauliflower and radishes and red and yellow peppers because I am, of course, the best wife in the world. 

I am just incredibly grateful that this year no one is coming over to watch the game because I really can't bear that but I know that my husband would have enjoyed some other person who had interest in it to cheer and commiserate with, as is appropriate. 

Then I found out that Tom Robbins has died at the age of ninety-two which is a good run for anyone. I have been a huge fan of his writing (the earlier stuff, at least) since I first cracked open a copy of "Another Roadside Attraction" and immediately fell in love with Amanda who was the main character and all the other characters and Robbin's take on the Vatican and the body of Christ and, well, just about everything and definitely Robbins himself. 

I've written about him several times but I think this post sort of sums up a lot of my feelings about him. 

Here's a quote of his from his book "Skinny Lets and All" that I just lifted from that post:

Thus, since religion bore false witness to the Divine, religion was blasphemy. And once it entered into its unholy alliance with politics, it became the most dangerous and repressive force that the world has ever known. 

And I thought it was prescient then. Whoo boy. Hold my beer. 

Well. I am grateful that I got to be on the planet at the same time as Mr. Robbins and that I was somehow led to read his books. As a wise friend just said to me, "He was a writer of his time," and indeed he was and thank all the gods that be that we have his writing to remind us of the miracles and madness, freedom and folly, silliness and psilocybin of those days. 

This is what my copy looked like. I still have it. 

So is that it? I doubt it. I'm chattering away like an old lady who was unknowingly dosed with speed in her Metamucil.  

Here are two more pictures of cabbage palms. The first one, I did not take, but am posting it here to show how incredibly tall they can grow which explains my thinking about the distance between the ones I've planted. 

And this one I took of the part of the frond that grows from the stem. I think it is beautiful. 

There's a little Spanish moss too. 

Florida. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Deep Appreciation

That's a sweet, tiny little wild violet. The white ones always bloom first. The purple ones will come soon and then the bamboo will start pushing itself up through the ground with alarming speed. And I have even begun to get any of the winter's dead cleared from the yard? 
Well, yes, actually. But not much. Not much at all. 

I went back to the garden this afternoon and pulled more weeds. Simply looking at my garden, especially in the late afternoon when the sun is getting lower in the sky and truly illuminating the plants from a side angle, satisfies something so deep in me. It's like making good food. It's like calming a baby. It's like writing a sentence that makes me happy. I am wired for these things. There are many, many other things that bring me great pleasure, but these are some of the best. 

I got just about all the weeds pulled but Maurice did not offer her help today. I have no idea why. Perhaps she had tired of the garden because of her work there yesterday. Let's face it- collard greens are not a big attraction for a cat, although that rye grass really seemed to interest her for a moment or two. 

She did come out and supervise when I was trimming back the dead firespike and oh, how I hope it's not truly dead, although I see no tender growth hiding under the oak leaves that cover my front yard. We do not even try to grow grass there. I can't think of anyone in this part of Lloyd that has grass. Maybe. I am not very observant. 
I will be heartsore if the firespike doesn't come back. I planted it there by the front fence a few years ago with stems I had rooted over the winter. I have to say that the leaves I cut today reminded me of batwings. That dark. 

That's some I hadn't gotten to by a different fence. I'll get there. 

Or I won't. 

I watered and trimmed my porch plants and hung the ferns back on their hooks but I'm not moving everything back in place yet. That's just begging for another freeze. I watered all the plants camping in the house. My front porch is a mess of oak leaves and plants in pots that are neither arranged properly or tidily, some of them missing parts of themselves that froze. The cabbage palms planted on both sides of the porch entrance need trimming badly, their fronds bending in to meet in such a way that one feels one might need a pith helmet and a machete to get through them to get to the porch steps which you can barely see for all the leaves on them. 

My husband complains about this regularly and bitterly. I have explained to him over and over that eventually, the palms will be so tall that their fronds will not be any sort of problem at all. 
"Not in our lifetime!" he says. 
"Well," I shrug. "In someone's." 

And oh, won't that be beautiful thing? 
But I will admit that I probably planted them too close together. This is a fault of mine whether I'm planting camellias or cabbage or cabbage palms. 

I just baked the sourdough I made yesterday. It has come out all right, but my loaves will never win any contests. 

Still, they taste good. 

It's so quiet here tonight and I am happy about that. 
I wonder what fresh hell the puppet in chief has been responsible for today. I really do not care to read about it at the moment. 

I just want to make our supper, go to bed and read, and fall into dreamless sleep. 

Peace, y'all. 

Moon rise.

Love...Ms. Moon

I Just Realized I'm A Book Burner.

Walked into the post office today to find this. As you can only imagine, I was not in the mood for that shit. I'd just cried at the dump, talking to the guy whose job it is to keep an eye on everything, operate the smasher thing, and help people if they need it. I'm sure there's a lot more to the job than that. 
I can't help it right now. When people ask me how I'm doing, I tell them unless I really have no idea how they may have voted. And even then- sometimes I don't care. Today when the guy at the waste facility asked me how I was I told him that I supposed I was okay for someone whose country was in flames and was now being controlled by Elon Musk. The guy was so sweet. He agreed with me and although that may have just been him being polite, he was quite sincere when he saw me tear up and said, "You can't let yourself get so worked up over this. There's nothing we can do."
And so then I went into my speech about how when Hitler started coming to power no one did anything to stop him and look how that turned out. 
Anyway, he was kind and he actually told me to come back soon which is sort of funny as it was the place I take my trash but you know- like I said, he was sweet. People can be really nice to old ladies. 

But when I saw that fucking book at the post office, I almost lost my shit. It was already after noon which meant that there was no one working (we have short hours at the Lloyd post office) so I snatched the damn thing up, brought it home, undid the metal coil thing and put all the pages on the burn pile which is quite appropriate. I have to make another complaint to the postal system but strangely enough, I doubt anyone there will be that concerned about my little issue with the government (Elon Musk) probably about to shut it down too. 

But that's ridiculous. Someone was cleaning out their stuff and found that old lesson book and, wanting to get rid of it but also feeling that it is just chock full of GOD'S WORD, they decided that the best thing to do with it would be to leave it at the post office in case some poor sinner needed some instruction. The thing was at least four hundred pages long and I am not kidding you. One has to wonder how long Vol. II was.

I did household chores today. Nothing at all exciting. Not one darn thing. I tried not to read too much news but you know how that goes. I washed sheets, I...

What in hell did I do? 

I think I was pretty busy all day but for the life of me, I can't remember what I was busy with. I made up the dough for a loaf of sourdough. I remember that. I did more laundry than just sheets. I picked camellias. 

None of this was challenging in any way. 

This afternoon I finally got myself back to the garden and did some weeding and I am so glad I did that. I needed it more than the garden needed it and there is more weeding to be done. There is never, not for one second of time, some bit of yard or garden work not needing to be attended to here. In some ways, this seems like a never-ending task which of course it is. But in other ways, it is exactly what I need in my life- a reason to be outside, to do some physical labor. 

The purple cabbage is actually looking pretty good. I know I should thin it. Some plants appear to be heading up. 
Look at the life force in a leaf of this gorgeous vegetable. 

Maurice had to come and check on my work, as she does. 

Two clumps of rye grass had sprung up and I have no idea where they came from but there they were. I pulled them and a little while later, found Maurice first sniffing them, and then nibbling at them. Girl's gotta get her greens, I guess. 

Boud, from Field and Fen asked me to share what books I had gotten at the library yesterday so I took this picture last night. 

I almost squealed when I saw the new Alexander McCall Smith book in the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency series. I do love those lady detectives. They calm and soothe me. 
The other two books were just impulse picks. "The Widow's Guide To Dead Bastards" sounded excellent on the flyleaf. It is a memoir, not a novel. And I had never heard of Tommy Orange, the author of "There, There" but when I looked him up, he sounded like someone I should at least have a crack at. There is nothing quite so satisfying as having books which hold promise waiting to be read beside the bed.

And here we are. Friday night. Another week that flew by, powered by anger, frustration, fear, disbelief, and love for my family. It has been gray all day long but a few minutes ago, the sky cleared and the setting sun painted the tallest trees in gold. 

Remember to look up. 

Happy Friday (or at least it will be a little happier after a martini).

Love...Ms. Moon

If Only We Were All Maggies

This is a picture of a near-miracle. Last night after I'd cut my finger and pierced my heel with a chunk of glass, I let the poached pears burn. I rarely burn anything but in this case- well, it is surprising how fast a poaching liquid of water, sugar, and lemon juice can boil out, even if mostly covered, and then burn like hell. This is one of my precious Le Creuset skillets and I was devastated. However, between soaking with water and dish detergent AND dishwasher detergent, and making a paste of Bartender's Friend to put on it, and scrubbing for a very long time, and using a wooden chopstick to chip away at the burned parts, I got it all. And I do not think I have harmed the enamel. 

Remember yesterday when I was talking about not being able to focus on anything? I obviously was not focused on my poached pears. 

So. Another day, another cluster fuck. I've really tried today not to check the news every hour or so. I've done okay with that. But you know what? That doesn't really help. You know damn well that shit is happening even as you're trying to forget about it for a small space of time. I cannot compartmentalize that well. In fact, all of my worries and anxieties and fears overlap and come together, creating a stinking muck of a brain-clog. 
That is a rather unpleasant image, isn't it? 
Sorry. 

I started out the day going BACK to town to get a filling. Remember the crater in my tooth, blah, blah, blah? The new dentist whom I really, really like, had said that instead of putting a crown on it, she was going to try and just add whatever that stuff is that dentists fill teeth with to what's there. It's a big chip, not a cavity. And when she looked at it today she decided that she didn't even need to numb the area, that she could just add the compound and then level it off (this is how the procedure seemed to go to me) and send me on my way. 
And that's what happened. 
I did get a pretty large hit of serotonin when I got out of that chair with no pain and no long wait to get half of my face back. 

I stopped at the library on the way home and got three books I really think I'll like and that made me happy, as most of you can understand. 

And the rest of the day has been spent picking greens, chopping greens, slicing onions, cooking frozen field peas, making a little over a pint of chili oil, feeding the sourdough and, oh yeah- trying to figure out how the hell to get signed into my credit union app because for some reason I had not saved either my user name or my password and that took three calls to the credit union but I finally got logged on and THEN, I had to answer a security question and it was, "What was your father's middle name?" 
Y'all- my father had no middle name. His name was Vaughn Miller, Jr. 
This required another call. The tech lady suggested that might have been one of the questions that Mr. Moon had set up which made perfect sense. We have several accounts and both our names are on all of them. Which meant that I then had to go and select three security questions of my own which I did. 
Finally, I was able to access my balance which was all I wanted to do in the first place. 
Sigh. 

That's it. I just read a few headlines and I have to process what's going on now. I also have to get my kitchen in order and make cornbread. Greens, beans, and cornbread. 
My chinese cabbage is bolting. What weird, weird weather. 

But I still have plenty of greens. 

These are being cooked as we speak. 

And here is the best thing you're going to see all day. 

Ms. Magnolia June got her haircut yesterday. There's a WWE wrestler whom Maggie admires and her hair is short on one side and long on the other and Maggie wanted hers like that too. 

She's our fierce girl. Our determined woman-baby. She knows what she wants. And she usually gets it. 

I can safely say I've never had a tenth as much confidence as that nine-year old has in my entire life. God, I adore her. 

Love...Ms. Moon

What Am I Saying Here? Part II

This is the only picture I have to post today. Oxalis. Sweetness and calm are in low supply right now. 

And I haven't answered comments in two days and you know that's not like me. Yesterday I was in town all day and today was just about the same although not for the same reasons. Distraction, I guess. I guess that was the reason I was in town. 
I wanted to see if I could find the tips for my airbuds that would fit and I could not and I only figured out why about an hour ago- when the little silicon tip fell apart, it was holding on to a tiny black part of the pod and without that tiny black part, the tips do not fit. So. I cannot find the tiny black part or the part of the white silicon that was on it and I don't know what I'd do with it if I did. 
More on this later. 

But I went to Best Buy before I figured that out and as stupid as I feel for not seeing what was so obvious- the lack of the tiny black part- the guy who looked at my airbuds didn't notice it either and that's his goddam job. 

I have no patience this evening. None. 
More on that later too. 

I went to Michael's to look for any possible pottery glaze. They had none but I did buy Jessie (and me, if I want to use it) a tool to extrude fine lines of clay in designs upon whatever you want to have fine lines on. A woman in our class had decorated a vase this way and it looks like a henna design. It is beautiful. Jessie has a steady hand and an artistic eye and I think she might have fun with this. 
Is fun still a thing we can have?
More on that in a minute. 

I went to Costco. My card wouldn't work. I kept getting a message that it was not authorized. I thought I knew what the problem was- this morning I got a call from the ridiculous fraud detection line that my credit union uses. I called them back with the case number they'd left on my voice mail and got the robo call return which asked me if I'd made three charges which I suppose they deemed suspicious. Two to seed companies, one to Roku. I said that yes, I had made those charges and supposedly the hold they'd put on my card had been lifted. 
Fast forward to shopping- two places, the first two places in fact, that I used my card there was no problem. Then on to Costco and to Publix where I got the not authorized message when I tried to pay for my stuff. 

I used a different card. We are so fortunate to have one. 
I came home. I unloaded the groceries and started the dishwasher and picked the greens and then I called the credit union. The lady checked my account- no hold was being shown. So she advised me to call the fraud detection agency again. That agency is not associated with the credit union in a way that she could see what the trouble was. 
I called the fraud detection agency. I got sent to a guy whose accent was so heavy that I simply could not understand him. I am usually the most tolerant and understanding of people who are working hard, supporting their families, doing tech work in other countries. But today? I had no patience. See above. I said, "I don't feel comfortable," and hung up. 

After all that I decided to do a deep dive into my kitchen where the airpod bud thing fell apart to see if I could find the tiny black part. There is a gap along the bottom of the cabinets in the kitchen where a lousy carpenter on one of the many, many redos of that room, did not fit the floor boards up against the bottom of the cabinets. So I got down there and used my finger to sweet out the detritus which invariably  collects. I didn't find it. I got the real broom and swept all that stuff up. Theoretically. 
A few minutes later, walking across the kitchen barefoot because although it snowed a week ago, it is eighty-something here today, I stepped on something that pierced my heel, deeply, and it felt just like a thick glass shard-chunk which is exactly what it was. I pulled it out and proceeded to get blood all over the kitchen. Glen put a bandaid on it for me. This did not help. I put a different bandaid on it. So far, so good. 
I cleaned up the blood. I was then making my afternoon espresso shot and I managed to cut my little finger on the sharp inner edge of the can. Once again, blood everywhere. Once again, another bandaid. Not nearly as much blood. 

And you know what? As lousy a day as I have had, it has been the the best day of my life compared to the day being had by federal government employees and the people who depend on USAID. With every breath I took today, every moment of every hour, I was trying to get my head around the fact that Elon Musk is staging a coup with the help of a few barely-older-than-teenagers coders and it is happening right this second and it is not going to stop happening until Musk has exactly what he wants and although I really have no idea what that is, it's going to involve things we would never in our wildest dreams thought could happen here. 
I feel quite certain that the congressional Democrats are not pleased at all about this but being in the minority there as well as the senate AND the supreme court, I imagine they're trying to figure out how in hell to stop this. God I hope so. Is it even possible?

And what is Trump doing in all of this? Is he even slightly perturbed that Musk has taken control of it all and is using him as a puppet? A big, stupid puppet? He's probably playing golf at Mar-A-Lago while the country he promised to make great again is crumbling all around him. 

Meanwhile, we have to take care of ourselves. I know that focusing is very difficult for many of us. How can we focus when our brains are taken up with such horror? But please, let's try to keep our minds on task enough to not hurt ourselves. Or to get lost. Or to leave the stove on. Or to forget to take care of ourselves and each other as best we can. 

Again I say- this is not normal. We shouldn't act as if it is.

Love...Ms. Moon

My Tiny World Today

This beautiful bowl of Jessie's came out of the kiln and it is truly impressive. 

Even Larry, the former teacher in our class praised it. I love it. The interior of the bowl is that brilliant orange you can see in the fruit. 

I was not in the best mood at pottery. I'm just so damn overwhelmed with sadness and frustration, sorrow, fear, and shock. Every day a new anguish, a new threat, a new tsunami of disbelief. 
This cannot go on. 

And I feel helpless in the face of it. I have no faith that writing my representatives is going to do one bit of good. Anyone with any power who is not on the side of the Trump/Musk administration has got to be trying to figure out how to fight to save our country. 
We have had two weeks to only begin to reel with the madness and I fear greatly that the dark times have yet to truly begin. 

And what I am learning is that on the days I am tired or have a list of things I need to accomplish, any emotional fortification that I may have is weakened considerably. Nothing in the mundane world of chores and errands feels as if it's worthwhile. I go through the motions, I fight to keep my head above water, I act as much like a normal human being as possible and then THAT makes me crazy. 
WE SHOULD NOT BE ACTING LIKE ANYTHING IS NORMAL!

As if we could just ignore all of this and eventually, it will go away. 

So instead of being calming and soothing today, playing with clay felt useless. The thing I worked on is so bad that the only thing I can say about it is that I'll never get THAT two and a half hours of my life back. 

I think mostly I'm tired. Yesterday's adventure in walking took a lot out of me. Some physical, but mostly emotional. Every time I think of Liz Sparks talking about the people wandering around lost when she was there I feel better- it's not just me! but there's still a part of me that felt like a foolish old woman when I got a little frantic out there, trying to figure out one little piece of the whole trail at a time. And I should have had water on me but I almost never, except in the deepest heat of the summer, carry water. There's no need to, really, when only walking a few miles. Which is what I thought I'd be doing. 

So yes. I'm tired. I got up early for pottery and didn't get quite as much sleep as I usually do.

After pottery Jessie and I went and got beautiful vegetarian platters at our favorite Middle Eastern restaurant. I swear to you- the little triangle of spanokopita on our plates was so damn good that, as I told Jessie, I would love to just sit there and eat that stuff all day. 

I was needed this afternoon to pick up Levon at school and take him to piano and so I did that. I have to tell you- all of my grandchildren are unique in their very own ways and Levon is no exception. I am not sure I've ever met a boy his age who was such a little man. I hate to even use the descriptive "little" here. He is so in control of whatever situation he finds himself in that it's like having a small version of a grown man around. Here's a picture I snatched while he was having his lesson. 

He listens. He tries his hardest. He is serious about this business. And I have never in my life met a teacher as effusively positive as his piano teacher is. This is such a different sort of music teaching than I experienced as a child I can't even believe it. 

My teacher would SHRIEK at me. "Sharp, Mary! Sharp!" 
Oh god, oh god, oh god. 
This lady would be like, "Okay. Let's try it again. That was hard but I know you can do it!" 
And then he does.

After his lesson I took him to Publix with me. I was completely stressed out. I knew that Glen had a basketball game at 7:00 and needed something to eat before he left the house and we have finished all the leftovers and I wasn't going to have time to make him anything decent and of course my brain was sliding around like an egg on a skillet with a cup of butter in it, and Levon was trying to help me decide just what sort of treat I was going to buy him and August, who, although not there with us, was at after-school, so I bought two frozen pizzas that were BOGO and two packs of hot dogs (I am not kidding you) which were also on BOGO. So were the buns. 

To my credit, I also bought a premade salad because I knew there was no way I was going to have the energy to pick greens when I got home. 
Fuck it. 
I bought Levon and August animal crackers in the little box with the Barnum's animals on it, which is probably not the worst thing a child can eat. Then I drove him to his after-school program and he was completely and utterly disdainful of my insistence that I had to take him to the door. "I've been here before, you know," he said. "And you don't have to check me in." 
"I know, I know!" I said. "But I have to. I just do."
And so I did and he did not so much as say goodbye, much less give me a hug or god forbid, a kiss but that was okay. Levon the man, knew he'd been good in the store, he knows I love him, and I suppose he knows he loves me. What is the big deal? 
Of course I shouted "I love you, Levon!" as he swaggered away from me into the community center wearing his backpack like a US Marshall, walking into the Deadwood Saloon with his saddlebags draped over his shoulders. 

Sigh.

God, I'm tired. I may be in bed by nine.

Here's the plate I made a few weeks ago and which also just came out of the kiln. 

I have decided that this is a rendering of the moment the asteroid hit the sea in the Yucatan Peninsula 66 million years ago and killed the dinosaurs. The Chicxulub Crater. 

You can see that, right? 

Where IS my mind going? 

Love...Ms. Moon

I Was Fixin' To Call 911

What a day. 

It started out so gray-skied and I felt gray-souled, just not up to life, really. I plodded through the first part of it, doing a whole lot of nothing but I did pick camellias and will you look at those? I've never seen the camellias bloom so profusely. 

I think it's probably due to the removal of the Bradford pear trees which affords the plants far more sunshine. The shrubs were covered with blooms before the freeze but I was almost certain they'd all just drop off after it warmed back up. As I said before, you can see freeze damage on some of the blossoms but not all. 

After I ate my late lunch I drove down to the St. Marks trail head to take what I thought would be a little walk. I was having to sternly lecture myself about walking at least as far as I'd walked last week which was a little over two and a half miles but I really wasn't feeling it. 
And then, because I am stupid, I decided to take a different path just to mix things up but I kept coming to places like this. 

And this. 

So I'd turn around and backtrack and I got back on the trail I usually take but then I decided to go ahead and take it further than I had before, making sure to keep track of where I was going with the use of the map of the trails I had on my phone even though I knew they were not accurate but how bad could they be?
Well, pretty bad. Also, many of those paths had water blocking them too, causing me to have to deviate. And I am sure you can guess what came next- I got lost. 
As lost in the woods as Hansel and Gretel. Lost as the crew and passengers of the Minnow. Lost as the little lamb who lost his way. Lost as Columbus, trying to find a passage to India. 

And at first, I was okay. Just...let's stop and try and figure this out. Have I been this way before? It all looks a great deal alike as you can already tell from my pictures. Am I walking in circles? WHY ARE THERE NO TRAIL MARKERS? 

And so forth. But I was determined not to panic. 

Guess what? You can't determine not to panic and soon I realized that I was experiencing what might be called a panic attack. My mouth went Sahara dry (and I had no water on me), my heart raced, my mind whirled. I have NO sense of direction to begin with so add in a little pinch of panic and it is even worse. 
This sounds a bit overly dramatic but it's exactly what happened and yes, I was probably being overdramatic and I was not in control of the situation at all. Around this point I texted Mr. Moon which was useless because how was he going to find me? And then I figured out, mainly because of a comment I got on a post the other day, that I needed to see if I could find the map of my walk on the app I use to track my milage and I did find it and I could backtrack from there. But even that got tricky because of the tiny cut-offs and cut-throughs that looked like they might be correct but were not. But thank goodness for that brilliant and helpful comment. Ms. A- I LOVE YOU.
A few minutes after I texted Glen, I came to some definite landmarks, and I texted again to tell him I knew where I was and would be fine. I was still a mile from the entrance of the trail head when I figured out where I was and by the time I got back to my car, I had taken a four-mile walk which is definitely not what I'd set out to do. 

I probably won't be able to walk at all tomorrow but we'll see. 

I'm sure I'll be going back to the trailhead but I am going to make sure I take a right, not a left, when the trail forks near the beginning. I'll leave exploring to some other soul with a better sense of direction than mine. 

And hey- guess what? That particular walk did not make me feel any better. 

Oh! Here's a picture of some calves hanging out in a field next to the trail.

I believe that one was as curious about me as I was about him. 

Thank goodness we're having leftovers tonight. Here's a picture of the salad I made last night which is part of what we'll be eating tonight. 

I am so grateful to be home and safe although I seriously doubt I would have perished out there, no matter what my crazy brain was telling me. 

Pottery tomorrow.

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. And who won the Best Rock Album award at the Grammy's last night? 

These guys. 

Lagniappe

If you'd like to read a book of Connie May Fowler's that answers the question of why she left her husband and also, is a very accurate rendering of the house I live in, check out this. 

Time Keeps On Slippin'...

 

When we moved into this house, almost 21 years ago now, there were lace curtains in the windows. The couple who'd lived here had split up and she'd left many things behind. From what I've heard, she came to the house when her husband wasn't home, thrown everything she wanted into a truck and got the hell out of Dodge. 

I feel certain she had her reasons.
She was a relatively well-known writer by the name of Connie May Fowler and I feel certain she'd bought the curtains. They are English and made of cotton, not polyester, and I love them and have kept them in my windows since. 

Yesterday, due to a string of events which involved hanging the deer mount, the curtains all came down for washing and boy, did they need it! It has been a long, long time. 
After I washed them, I realized that their age is beginning to tell. Some of them are permanently stained a sort of yellowish color and some have tears or rips in them. Small ones, mostly, but I decided today to mend those little tears and I spent some time doing that, listening to my Stephen King book. It was so beautiful outside that it was almost a sin for me to not be out in it but I was on the porch and could watch the birds come and go and enjoy the sight of the camellias blooming so profusely. 

I have taken it very easy today for no particular reason. I've felt fine but I've only done the things I really wanted to do. I haven't read much news but what I have read is so disturbing. And mystifying. Why in the world is Trump so determined to upset the world economy by putting tariffs on products from Canada, Mexico, and China? I really do not understand. This is going to do the opposite of what the Heinous One promised, which was to reduce inflation, and as even he said, 

"WILL THERE BE SOME PAIN? YES, MAYBE (AND MAYBE NOT!), BUT WE WILL MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN, AND IT WILL ALL BE WORTH THE PRICE THAT MUST BE PAID.”

And this is his solution for stopping drug traffic and illegal immigration into the country?
Wait. 

What?
Is this really the way to do that? And how many people slip through the border from Canada? And how much fentanyl is brought through that same border? I'm not saying that fentanyl overdoses aren't a tragic and horribly way-too-common occurrence but for fuck's sake- the American people are going to suffer. The cure is going to be worse than the disease and it is not addressing the main problem which is addiction. It's not going to be a cure. If there is one thing I know, it's that when there's a huge market for drugs, someone is going to figure out how to get the drugs to the marketplace. 

Is this going to endear him with anyone? 
"Oh, sure, a head of lettuce imported from Mexico costs $25 but we're making America Great Again!" And meanwhile, the people who grow and pick the lettuce here in Florida are too scared to come out of their houses. 

I don't understand. I don't get it at all. Honestly? I think the answer may just be that Trump is a mad man and so are the white men who surround him and have taken all the power. 
Sound familiar? 

Meanwhile, as I was looking for something today in my ancient files where I keep everything from our old wills to a baggie with hair from Lily's first hair cut in it, I came across this. 

Either Hank or May did that picture back in the early eighties. Terry Joy was one of my beloved nursing school friends and that is a rendering of what she looked like while writing a paper at my old oak table that Mr. Moon just repaired. We are thinking that Hank did it and he could not have been more than six years old. Remember me just a few days ago talking about how a group of us nursing school friends regulary got together at my house and spread out our notebooks and textbooks on that oak table to study? 
Well there you go. Actual proof.  

I asked Hank what the red blob was and he said that maybe it was a flower. I thought about that and agreed. I'd probably picked a camellia for Terry. I have always been more than a little in love with her. I am to this day. I believe I will send the picture to Terry who lives in Colorado now and has three children and one grandchild of her own. I think she will appreciate it. 

Life speeds by so fast whether we realize it or not and the things we thought at one time that we'd never forget become lost to a part of our brain not accessible to us after a certain point. But it is good to find, now and then, a tangible piece of proof and reminder that this thing or that thing did indeed happen, especially if the memory makes you so happy. 

That's what I have for you today.

Love...Ms. Moon

Coffee Tawk

There's the latest camellia to open. No. I do not know this one's name. But if anyone ever needs a definition or explanation for the word "pink" I think this might do. This camellia is growing in my front yard, as opposed to most of the camellias in the yard which I've planted in the back. I wonder if anyone ever walks by it and is happy to see its flowers. Does Harvey appreciate them on his way to and from the convenience store or the GDDG? We don't get much foot traffic past our house. A few regulars, most of them like Harvey, on their way to buy what they need a few blocks from here. 

It's been a stay-at-home day today and the weather has been just about perfect. I'm glad because it was very hard for me to force myself out of bed and if it had been as gray as it was yesterday, I am not sure I would have even bothered. Maurice had come to sleep with me in the night and it seems like the mornings when I wake to find her curled up between my legs are the mornings it is hardest to get up. That's where she sleeps, down near the foot of the bed, between my knees and my feet and the miracle of it is that she doesn't even curse at me when I move in the bed. She readjusts her own position and that is that. Sort of like a normal cat.

I dreamed last night that I was taking care of my plants, repotting them and trimming them, one specifically. I do have a beautiful blue pot that Mr. Moon gave me for Christmas just waiting for something to go in it and I believe that will be my blushing philodendron's new home. That is the plant in my dream.

  

Not a good picture but it has overgrown the pretty Talavera pot that it lives in now. Jessie left this plant with me one summer when she was going to North Carolina. When she got back, she told me to keep it and I know it's because she is aware of my fondness for it. And then, of course, when I get the philodendron settled into the larger blue pot, I can move something else that is outgrowing its pot into the Talavera one and so it goes, like hermit crabs getting together for shell swap meets where they try on different shells that have been outgrown by other crabs. 
I find this to be incredibly charming and amazing. 

Oh, but the world is filled with wondrous and magical things! 

I can segue with the best of them, can't I?

I trimmed some of the porch plants again, being able to see more clearly the damage inflicted by the cold. And then I watered them all. I moved my nursery of Roseland mango and fan palm and sea grape plants from the dining room where I'd had them for safe keeping to different porches. They are not looking great but they are at least alive. 

I took the trash, I checked the post office for mail and unauthorized reading material. No Bibles but we did get some mail. I did laundry. I picked a very few greens to go with the tacos we will be having tonight. I cleaned toilets and bathroom sinks. I swept some. In other words, I was domestic and happy to be. 

As I did all of these things I had my AirPods in my ears, as usual. I am listening to a Stephen King book right now which I am enjoying, unlike the last five books of his (at least) that I have not particularly liked. This one is titled "Holly." The narrator makes it all the better and I do believe King cares a great deal for this character. The horror in it is pretty disgusting but it's so absurd and perhaps so unlike the real horror going on in the real world that it doesn't bother me at all. 
But this afternoon, as I pulled one of my air pods out of my ear, the little silicone part inside of the tip that fits into the ear, just sort of tore. I suppose I have worn that thing slap out. For some reason, we have quite a few unused tips around here but wouldn't you know that none of them were made for this particular model of AirPods. It would appear that the inner part of mine that tore is made of a soft silicone whereas the older ones are made of a harder material. I can't really bitch about this. I wear those things at least six hours a day and Lord knows that the ear canal is a moist and warm and probably rather nasty environment. And those things have dropped in dirt, forest undergrowth, AND the Wacissa river. 

I didn't exactly panic when I realized I didn't have another one to replace the one that tore, but my mind immediately went to getting some new ones as quickly as possible. And so of course I ordered some online (from Apple, not Amazon!) and they are very inexpensive, two sets of them for ten dollars, free shipping. And then a little while later I realized that it's quite possible I could have just gone to Best Buy or Target or someplace like that and gotten them there. 
Sigh. 

My mind is absolutely not what it used to be. One of the characters in "Holly" has early dementia and I have every damn symptom that he has. Oh well. At least, thanks to Stephen King, I've learned that the ingestion and topical use of human flesh, organs, and fat does not cure Alzheimers, arthritis, or sciatica which is good to know because honestly, I'd be very bad at processing anything except for that which grows from the ground for human consumption, much less another person.  

Guess that's all I need to discuss tonight. As I said, tacos are on the menu along with guacamole. They will be soft tacos although to be honest, we'd probably enjoy some good ol' traditional El Paso crunchy ones even more. 

Oh! Maggie is fine and all is well with her intestinal system. Thought you'd want to know. 

Love...Ms. Moon