Hot Fun, Summer In The Country

I took this picture on my walk this morning which was right here on Old Lloyd Road, down the sidewalk for the mile it spans and then down to the place Mr. Moon and I call El Rancho where big things are happening. A few weeks ago we both saw two men building a...thing?...right out by the road that their mailbox goes in. It took them all day. It's beautiful. 

Look at that masonry. 

And I do believe that's a bronze horse. 

They've got enough heavy equipment doing heavy equipment stuff behind their sturdy fence to make Levon think he'd died and gone to heaven if he got to see it. I do not know what all they're building but it's impressive. 

So anyway, I walked down to El Rancho, turned around and came home. It's a mostly flat walk so no problems. A truck stopped in the middle of the road and the driver was a man I hired years and years ago to do some yard work and we had a little chat. It was good to see him. I also saw Pinot and a woman from down the road walking toward Pinot's house and he was having a hard time keeping up with her. We chatted for a minute too. 

The rest of the day has flown by. I spoke with Jessie on the phone and Levon too. Levon mostly just told me that his mother bought him an orange race car. This was at the CVS. Jessie says that the cousins are having the best time and that it's hard to separate them at night to get them bathed and in their beds. She also told me that August told her the other night that when we come up to visit, they'll probably spend two nights with us or maybe three, or maybe four. 
They're counting on the fact that we'll have a TV in that Airbnb. I could just see August saying that, his little face so serious. 
We shall see. 

Mr. Moon got the axle on Lily's car finished. The reason Lily's car needed a new axle is because she lives on a road which is not county-maintained and is dirt and gravel and sand and extremely rutted. It's a beautiful place to live with trees and shade and her new garden and lots of room for the kids to play but that road is hell on axles. And shocks. But after he got the repair done, we took it on a test drive down to the Wacissa. We enjoyed our dip so much the other day and it had cooled us off so nicely that we decided to do it again.
Unfortunately, everyone else in Jefferson County had seemingly decided to do the same and I have never seen it more crowded. 
Ever.

There were at least two birthday parties going on and the homeschool mothers were there. Some of them belong to the Quiverfull movement and if you don't know what that is, you can read about it HERE. 
As Linda Sue was saying the other day, Big Daddy gods seem to want women to have lots and lots of babies. And lots and lots of those babies were at the Wacissa today. We were not deterred from our mission though and waded through the kids and parents and grandparents and dove into the river to get ourselves right with our particular god (the god of cold rivers) and then came home. 

We feel wonderful. 

Off to make supper but before I do- a few more pictures. 

Darla and her babies again. She brought them much closer to the house today, to the edge of the fallen magnolia leaves, to scratch and root about. I loved watching them from the back porch and for a good while Liberace stood beside them as if taking special care to guard them. I think he was. 

This little one may end up being a barred rock. It strikes me as funny that Darla is so fiercely protective of her babies, even from the hens who may be their actual biological mothers. 
She's a good mama. Unlike some slacker sister-wives I could mention. 

And finally this. 

It looks like an alien but was actually a little anole lizard who is obviously in the process of growing a new tail after something (Maurice?) ripped it off. 

I just love it's little hand-feet. 

Be well, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Visiting Royalty

Today was the chicks' coming out day and out they did come. 
And immediately started scratching in the leaves, happy as could be. Fancy Pants was quite curious about them. Too curious for Darla's comfort and that hen swelled and rose up like a cobra and went after that little rooster. A fighting cock could not have been fiercer or more furious. She backed him up a few yards and then Liberace saw what was going on. He rushed over and chased the little guy off and that was that. They've stayed close to the coop and hen house all day long, going back in and out. This is how the mamas do it, keeping the young'uns close to safety and protection until she feels more confident about them being out. 

Lily brought the kids out today so that her daddy could work on her car. She needed an axle replaced. Now to me, that sounds like a job that one would take to a car repair place but I guess that Mr. Moon's garage is actually a car repair place, or it was today, anyway, after he pulled his big boat out and pulled the car into its place. The kids immediately discovered the new (very old) go-cart and Maggie was the most charmed with it of all. She immediately buckled herself in. 

And then Gibson joined her. 

After he got out, she buckled in her doll and her dog. Princess Tomboy. That girl is a hoot. Later on she wanted me to read "The Chicken of the Family" to her and of course I did. We had a smashing time rereading it. Unlike August and Levon, she did not make me tell her what every chicken, blade of grass, and flower was saying but she did insist that we take turns and name all the chickens. Which was fine. "I love you, Mer," she told me. "I love you too, Maggie," I said, and kissed her pretty face. 

Owen climbed the mulberry tree. 

He's a good tree climber. He told me today that he hopes that when I die, someone in the family takes our house because it's so big and cool. It would be fine with me if he did. He also found an old radio/CD player in the garage that I was going to throw out and Mr. Moon insisted on keeping and with some white vinegar and a toothbrush, got it working again. This is pretty cool in that we used that radio when we used to go live on St. George Island during the summers when Lily and Jessie were just young things. Far younger than Owen is now. Boppy told him that he could take it home and he proudly did. 

Gibson got his cast off! He's all healed up now. He was tired today and spent most of the visit on the sofa watching movies. 
We all have days like that. 

Finally, it became apparent that Mr. Moon was not going to get the axle replaced in time for Lily to get Gibson and Maggie to their dance classes so I lent them my car. They all buckled in and off they went to the next adventure. 

And that man of mine is still out in the garage, working away. 

Once he starts a job he doesn't want to stop until it's done. 

Here's another picture. 

In the foreground are field peas and behind them is what I think of as "the wall o' cucumbers". Mr. Moon built a trellis of bamboo and string and they are climbing like little green men determined to summit Mt. Everest. He's had to add several strings across the top for them to climb higher. What you can't see is that there are hundreds of blossoms and forming cukes. The bees are ecstatically dipping and diving, the whole thing humming with them. It's a thing of beauty. 

More tomorrow, I'm sure.

Love...Ms. Moon

Life, As Usual

It's been raining this afternoon and thunder is rumbling somewhere off in the distance. It sounds like a grumpy old man who can't find his favorite pipe. But the birds are singing, quite possibly about the rain. There's the one bird species whose call sounds just like, "You're sweet, you're sweet, you're sweet!" and I cannot figure out what sort of a bird it is and yes, I've tried googling it but the first two hits on the search direct you to my blog, me, talking about the bird who sings, "You're sweet, you're sweet, you're sweet." Which I think is funny. 
And not at all helpful as to identification. 

So I walked in yet another place today. Not a place I've never walked, certainly, but not in awhile. It was Farms Road which intersects White House Road and Old Lloyd Road. I used to incorporate it into my White House Road walks back when I was doing five or more miles. It's about a two mile stretch of really, really pretty country road with very little traffic and a lot of shade. 
Sounds perfect, doesn't it? 

Most of y'all have seen a picture of that pretty little pond before. There a few ponds on the road and some horse farms, barns, tidy, well kept yards with houses that you just know are tidy and well kept too. 

Really, there's just one problem with Farms Road and that is the hills. I know from experience that the road goes mostly downhill from White House and up from Old Lloyd Road which it spans the distance between. It's so low at the more northern end near Old Lloyd that the last time I tried to walk on it, I couldn't because the road was flooded and so were both sides of it. I would have needed a ferry to cross it and there was no ferry available. 
But no worries about that today so I decided to park down at the lower end near the railroad track, walk uphill for about a mile and a half and then leisurely come back downhill for the same distance. 
And all went according to plan. Heading south it is indeed mostly uphill but with a few downward parts and I pushed through in the ninety-degree heat, telling myself that all was well and that I'd just finish this...one...last...hill and then turn around and go back and I did but there are actually a few uphill parts going back and by the time I was about two hundred yards from where I was parked I was wondering if I should flag down the UPS truck going by to give me a ride the rest of the way and of course I didn't and I made it but dear god- I am NOT in as fit a  shape as I was back when I was walking that road before. Also, I am older.

But once again, I did not die. I got in my car and turned it on, praising John Gorrie, who sort of invented air conditioning, and came on home. 

I knew that Mr. Moon and I were going to go to the Wacissa today and so I held that idea as a bit of reward and promise. When I got back to the house, the man was mowing the yard so I cooled off some and then I fried some bacon and made sandwiches with it, slicing tomatoes to put in a container to put on the sandwiches when we ate so that they wouldn't make the bread all mushy. I put cut-up cantaloupe and cherries in different containers, even remembered to put a salt shaker in with the rest of the food. When the mowing was done (and the yard looks beautiful now) we got into our bathing costumes and packed towels and chairs and magazines and loaded everything up and drove to the river. 

The sky above us as we drove south grew dark and I knew that one of our almost-daily summer storms was probably about to come in but that's always hit or miss and we kept driving. Before we got there, I told my husband about how every time I go to the river there's one child whose people can't find them and it turns out that they've just gone from one swimming spot to another and when the mother finds them they give them hell. "Don't you ever do that again! You TELL me before you leave this area. I thought you were LOST!" and the kids looks at the mother in bafflement. But I was right there...

When we got to the parking lot we unloaded and set up our chairs and the food and we decided to jump into the water first in case the weather got bad and we had to leave. We could eat anywhere but cooling off in that cold water was the number one priority. 

And we did. 
Our core body temperatures instantly dropped at least a few degrees. It was wonderful. And then the wind kicked up as we unwrapped our sandwiches so we were even more delightfully cooler and just then one of the many children there went missing, just as I'd told Glen would happen and yes, the mother went through the whole speech when the child was found. 
"Happens every time," I told him as he sprinkled salt on his tomatoes. 
We laughed and tried to keep hold of our napkins as the wind blew and it was so cool and lovely. Jessie and Vergil's house sitter was there and it was good to see her. She took a picture of us and sent it to Jessie. It was odd being at the river with my husband, rather than my children and grandchildren but it was nice. He looked so damn handsome with his hair blowing back, his beautiful profile as he looked out at the water. I wanted to take his picture but he would have fussed at me. He doesn't believe me when I tell him how handsome he is. 

As usual, it was a completely diverse crowd at the little beach. Tots, teens, couples, and plenty of boys whose testosterone levels were far higher than their IQ's, not that they can help that. That's just the way it is. They did amazing jumps and tricks and flips, swinging off the ropes tied to the limbs of the cypress tree to the side of the area where everyone swims, sometimes two or three of them clinging, swinging, and jumping at the same time, all to impress the few young teenaged girls that were there, yelling in exuberant calls that reminded me of young roosters just finding their crowing voices. 

There was a small gator swimming about, closer to the swimmers than they usually come and almost nobody was worried about it. 
"Watch out for that gator," a mama might say to her kids while one man was obviously extremely concerned and stood at the end of the dock, peering at the water with great concentration. I wondered aloud where he was from. Probably not Florida. 
And then it began to thunder and a few fat raindrops fell. People began to pack up and suddenly a bolt of lightening struck, the thunder right behind it and mothers began to scream at their kids to come in from the water right now! and a mother of one of the teen boys yelled to her son, "Don't you jump! Don't you dare jump!" as he was poised to swing from the rope. 

As Mr. Moon and I were putting our things in the car, a little boy in the parking lot next to us was trying every bit of kid logic to get his mother to let them stay. "But I don't see any thunder! It's hardly raining!" and she was saying, "You don't see thunder, you hear it," and frantically trying to round up all her chicks to get them in the car to safety. 

It was great. It was such a typical, glorious, mundane day at the Wacissa River. 

I've made some banana bread which is far more cake than bread with its cinnamon and pecan and sugar topping, and we're going to have leftover spaghetti for supper. Tomorrow we're going to let Darla and her chicks out of the coop. I sewed some on the dress I've been working on for eons and realized I'd screwed up in a major way with the neck binding but I don't really care. It'll be fine for wearing around the house. 

Another day in Lloyd. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Different Path

Lately I've been wondering about a wildlife area a few miles west of here on Capitola Road which is also Old Lloyd Road, the difference being where you are on the road. So today I drove down there and parked and looked at the walking trail map posted on a sign and could no more figure it out than if it had been written in ancient Mayan hieroglyphs. As with religion, patriotism, and accessorizing, I just don't have the gene. I look at maps and I try to figure out where north is and where I am in relation to north and south and even though yes, the map at the park had a big YOU ARE HERE dot, I still couldn't figure it out. 
What the hell? This is why I have a phone. If I got lost, I could tell Siri to give me directions to Capitola Road and I'd eventually get there although, since I didn't take any water with me, I would have died anyway if I'd had to walk much further than I did which was not that far. 
The L. Kirk Edwards Wildlife and Environmental Area must have far more to it than what I traipsed across today because they describe the fishing and wildlife observations you can do there and mostly what I saw was small planted pines, much of which was on land that had been control-burned recently, and a few fields of what I assume is native wiregrass but I don't really know. I was too hot to stop and use my plant app. But that picture at the top is what the beginning of the trail looked like. 

There were some pretty parts to my walk and here are some. 

Although this picture of a pickerelweed looks as if it were growing in a pond, it isn't. It's growing in a boggy place with standing water in the trail, as in- the middle of the trail. 

Can you see the trail continuing on at the top of the picture?

There were lots of blackberry bushes but the berries were so small and dry-looking that it wouldn't be worth the effort to pick them. I really do need to find another place to pick blackberries. 

I saw zero wildlife. Well, I did see a vulture winging overhead. I am not saying that there wasn't any wildlife- I have no doubt there was plenty. I just didn't see it. I was pretty busy focusing on not dying in the heat. 
I'm thinking that this area might be a good place to walk in the winter when it's chilly and I'm glad I went. My curiosity is satisfied but I would like to explore other parts of it. There is access to the area in several other places. Perhaps eventually I will be able to interpret the map and figure out where exactly those are.

The rest of the day has passed with little to remark on. Garden-picking, a bit of mending. I think that this may be the week I let Dottie and her bebes out of the coop to free range. The little ones can fly and scurry, and Dottie has good control of them, able to call them to her at any sign of danger. If experience tells me anything, it's that they will stay close to the hen house and coop for a few days at least, before she takes them very far afield. 

I will also tell you that I watched (while I was mending) the beginning of an Olympia Dukakis made in 2002, I think, in which she plays a self-proclaimed dyke and I just have to say that if you think MY mouth is filthy, you should watch some of this. There's probably a good reason that the movie never garnered much attention but it seems like a fun ride. I'll probably watch the rest the next time I need to do any ironing or mending. 

I hope that all of you are well. As always, thank you for coming here to read. I have no idea what I'd do without you. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Sourdough Rebel

Aren't zinnias just the happiest flowers? 

Well, another Sunday has almost passed and the survival rate here at the Moon home is 100% so I guess we're good. Neither one of us has done anything very exciting but as I said to a friend the other day, no one's in jail or the hospital so we're good. 

My bread last night was actually terrific and that's got me thinking. I've have been so ridiculously rigid about my sourdough baking. I feel like I have got to stick to the rule of using nothing but flour and grains, starter, water, and salt. 
But why? 
I have no idea. For awhile I was putting in about a teaspoon each of milk and sugar and that resulted in a softer, loftier loaf but I felt guilty. Like- there's a sourdough god who was looking down at me with deep disappointment. Like the sourdough police were gonna bust into my house and slap me in handcuffs or at the very least, issue me a summons. Like I had peed in the holy water font. 
And I'm the one who always laughs at the the comments of the NYT's cooking app recipes that ask things like, "I don't have any shallots. Can I use a leek instead?" 
OF COURSE YOU CAN! 
"I only have anchovy paste, not anchovies. Will that be okay?"
FUCKING A, YES! 
"I have no fresh dill. Can I substitute dried dill?"
WHY THE HELL NOT?
Of course I also make fun of the people who take a recipe and replace almost every ingredient with something else which essentially changes the entire dish and then bitch because it didn't come out very well. And I am completely disdainful of the recipes (not necessarily in the NYT's) that call for starting sourdough on a Wednesday if you want to bake it on Sunday, doing everything to the dough except dancing the tango with it in your bra. 
"Forty-eight steps to perfect sourdough bread!"
I am not a recipe purist by any means whatsoever. So why in hell am I so loathe to fool around with the sourdough? 
I think I have proved by now that the starter I made with the wild yeast of Lloyd will indeed lift a loaf of bread. So why not get jiggy with it? 
And last night's loaf that had the leftover mashed potatoes and parmesan cheese in it was soft and airy and delicious. 

Anyway, what in hell was I talking about?

Oh yeah. Sunday. I watered all my porch plants and did some laundry and finished a crossword and started another. And then I put on my overalls and went outside to where all those damn Crocosmia are, with my trowel, my garden cart, and an old canning kettle to put the pulled plants in. This is what it looks like out there now since Mr. Moon trimmed all the azaleas and pulled up the Chinese rice paper plants. 

Attractive yard feature, right? And I'm trying to dig up all the dirt around the ones I pull because there are so many corms that I could probably dedicate the rest of my life to trying to pull them all and it would all be for naught. But one must try. When I met the woman who lives across the road the other day she asked me what the plants in her yard are that are taking over under a beautiful old oak that she has. And guess what?

Croscomia. 
I told her to pull them. Hers aren't going to bloom either because they're shaded by the tree. And I warned her not to throw the plants she pulls somewhere else in the yard because they'll just take over there. 
While I was pulling, I did discover lots of lovely earthworms and also bricks and flat rocks. There may be an entire patio under there or something. A stable floor for all I know. I never have any idea what I'm going to dig up around here when I put my shovel or trowel in the ground. How I would love to have pictures from each decade of this house's life, of both it and the yard around it! 
I am thinking that we should transplant some of the camellias in the backyard to that space in the front. I planted them too close together and they are crowding each other out. Rookie mistake! 
I know better now. 

So I got hot and sweaty and filthy and I've had a shower and Mr. Moon is working in his beautiful garden. It is truly a thing of beauty. I just gave another neighbor a dozen eggs and some cherry tomatoes and banana peppers and a jar of this year's dilly beans and a jar of last year's bread and butter pickles. I'm going to cook some snapper tonight and heat up the rest of the tomato pie. I might make some cole slaw with the last small head of cabbage I pulled the other day. 

I sure do spend a lot of time pulling things out of the dirt, don't I? And I generally have chickens around me as I do that, scratching, clucking, and talking about what my uprooting has revealed, as well as a cat or two who come around with their judgmental attitudes and concerned expressions. 

Maurice worrying about me from the dining room table as I sit on the porch. I love how she taps on the glass to get my attention. I should probably wash that window. And believe it or not, she has been far gentler and less bitey and grabby lately. Knock wood.

Not a bad life. Not a bad life at all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Growing And Gritching

Yesterday evening after the rain stopped, the light was so beautiful and I went on a little picture-taking expedition. This one was really just right outside my back porch where the chickens had gathered in their pre-roost walk-around. Those are the same steps that I fell down last summer resulting in the broken ribs. You can see that Mr. Moon put skid-resistant strips on them but I am still very, very cautious when I go down them, no longer flying down them as if I was an indestructible dancer. 

From the garden:

Banana peppers hanging like Christmas ornaments. 

There's a part of the garden. You can see tomatoes, peppers, Delicata squash (I have big hopes for that), and more tomatoes. All of those to the right are the cherry tomatoes. On the back fence there are some cucumbers. 

To the left are field peas of some sort, then two different types of basil and more peas. 

One of the first baby cucumbers. If we only get an actual cucumber from every fifth blossom, there still won't be enough canning jars in all of northwest Florida to hold the pickles I am going to theoretically make. This may be one of those years I attempt a batch of Glen's mother's sweet pickles which I always describe as having every molecule of cucumber replaced with sugar. Their preparation requires a vat and two weeks worth of alchemic magic. 
As one would only imagine. 

Today I've felt as if I've flopped onto the bed of despair and can't get up. I have no idea what's wrong with me. I've felt as unenergetic and old and sore as I did the other day after my hot walk. I slept late and then later laid down to read a New Yorker magazine and fell asleep. The bread I'd made up the dough for last night was in the oven and thank god I had set my phone timer for just that situation. If I had not, I would have overcooked it even more than I did. 

It is more a monolith of bread than it is a loaf and I would hate for it to be inedible. I made it with some leftover mashed potatoes and parmesan cheese and by this morning, my sourdough starter from the wild yeast of Lloyd had risen it prodigiously in the bowl. 

We shall call it artisan once again, which insinuates that I meant to do that as dear Peewee Herman used to say. He may still say it but I haven't spoken with him lately. 

Remember when I vowed to mop my kitchen floor today? Well, I did it. I swept twice and mopped twice. So there is that. It honestly does not look much different but it smells so nicely of white vinegar and Fabuloso. A few months ago I read something on Facebook about scrubbing the kitchen floor on hands and knees with a brush and I could not believe the number of women who responded that that was the only way to truly get your floor clean. I added my two cents to the conversation by saying, "Who needs their kitchen floor to be that clean? You're only going to walk on it."
I don't know. Perhaps some people (i.e. women, mostly) have taken kitchen floor surgery on friends and animals as a hobby. 
Well, not me, baby. But for a few moments in time, my kitchen floor (and the floor of the adjoining bathroom and pantry) are relatively dirt free. 

Mr. Moon was going to grill us some fish tonight but it has been raining again and everything is quite wet outside so I think I'll make some spaghetti to go with the bread. The rain was beautiful. I was picking beans and cherry tomatoes and banana peppers in the garden when the wind came up and began to whip the magnolia leaves into a rusty-sounding frenzy and I got into the house just before the skies let loose. Although the rain is always a joy to me, perhaps it is the weather change that has me feeling this old and sore and tired. 
Who knows? 

Not me. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Cannot Complain Nor Will I

I drove to town today with a bagful of green beans and cherry tomatoes, a few squashes and three dozen eggs to give to the children. Also, the cake. 
Man. That cake. Not only did I forget to put salt in it, I forgot to put an egg in it (I told you I was a mess yesterday) and because it was a very dense cake to begin with with apples and prunes and raisins and nuts, it was somewhat brick-like but I had made a sort of salted-caramel icing for it which compensated and it was fine. Not a fluffy cake in the least but a flavorful one. 

I met up with Hank and Rachel at El Patron but dammit! someone else had a birthday and they had the entire patio taken up with their carefully and cheerfully laid tables with tablecloths and decorations and even little bottles of Purell laid out like party favors. 
No room for us. 
Then Lily remembered that there was another Mexican restaurant down the road with a patio so we texted everyone and moved the gathering to that place and it was nice, sitting under a giant lime or lemon tree or some sort of citrus tree and although it was a bit humid and hot, no one collapsed from heat stroke so...winning!

We sat around the tables and ate and chatted for a long time. Everyone told stories about bugs. We took turns. Since we live in Florida, everyone has a bug story or two. The one Lily told about what happened to her just last night was a classic example of TOO MUCH NATURE and involved a giant spider whom she rescued and opened the door to let out at which point a giant Luna Moth flew in and batted her about the face with its massive wings while she tried to get it back outside without hurting it. We all laughed a lot. 
I have to say that the food was not impressive. Not nearly as good as El Patron's but it wasn't really about the food, was it? It's the sort of "Mexican" restaurant where they serve ranch dressing with the chips which I had never seen before and which disturbed me greatly but the salsa was pretty darn good. Our server was good at his job although he seemed rather cranky but he cheered up when he saw the tips we left him. One thing you can say about our family is that we tip good, every one of us having worked in the service industry at one time or another. Well, except for the children. 
Here's what we looked like today. 

Ms. Magnolia June was pouring me some water. She is good at pouring water and didn't spill a drop. She, too, may be in the service industry one day. It's an honorable profession. 

After the cake, we all gathered in the parking lot and I gave out vegetables and eggs and Rachel gave me the box of jars she'd bought at Walmart and Lily loaned me her pressure canner. Man, that thing is huge! After many hugs, Hank and Rachel and I stepped over to the Goodwill which was next door. We perused a few racks and shelves. Rachel got a dress and I bought yet another Revere Ware pot which looks to be at least as old as my grandmother's Revere Ware which I use all the time. I wouldn't have bought it except that it IS the old, heavier, sturdier kind and also, it's a different size than any that I have. I do believe it'll come in handy for a lot of things. 

I ran through Publix after that, grabbing a few things that I needed and picking up a prescription of mine. When I got home, it was starting to thunder and while I was unloading the car, a standard-sized poodle suddenly appeared in the yard sniffing after one of my chickens. I yelled at it but the dog didn't seem to have murder on the mind and I approached it. She was well-groomed and really lovely and then I saw her human across the street who was calling her. Turns out the lady is a new neighbor who bought Ms. Pat's old house and before I knew it, she was telling me all about taking care of her 95-year old aunt and how really, she just felt like she was done and she needed her own life although she loves her aunt and is trying to figure it all out. Her aunt lives in Tallahassee and the woman hasn't been able to spend much time at all in her new home. She apologized about a dozen times for the dog coming into my yard and I kept telling her it was all right and finally I had to say, "Well, I need to get my clothes off the line before this rain comes," and I made my leave and did indeed get the laundry off the line. The woman has moved here from West Palm Beach and says that there are just too many people there now. I told her that she wasn't going to have that problem in Lloyd. 
God knows that's true. 

And here I am, the storm has mostly passed. We got a good amount of rain in a short time with lots of lightening and thunder. Even the little bit we got a few days ago has greened everything up so beautifully. It's funny how you can run the sprinklers on the garden all day and it won't do as much good as an hour's worth of steady rain. 

My husband's been out snapper fishing again and he's let me know that he's safe. I don't know if he's coming home tonight or not but either way, I'll be fine. In a way, I feel better if he spends the night because I know how tired he must be after getting up way before dawn, fishing all day, and then cleaning fish and the boat before he makes that long drive home. 

I'm grateful for this day in which we gathered to celebrate our Hank, that we all told stories about bugs, even the children, sitting under the shade of a citrus tree, laughing and being ourselves. I'm grateful for the rain and I'm grateful that my husband has been able to go out on the Gulf which he loves to do so much. I'm grateful for the last batch of pickled green beans I made which I have sampled by stabbing some and putting them in my martini. They are very nice, spicy and a little bit sweet. I'm grateful for the leftover tomato pie in the refrigerator which turned out to be absolutely delicious and which will be my dinner tonight and I'm grateful for the prospect of a good shower tonight before I get into my bed with its clean sheets which I am also grateful for. 

I am NOT grateful for the fact that I didn't get my kitchen floor mopped but as GOD IS MY WITNESS! that will happen tomorrow. If that's the only thing I do, I'll fucking do it. 
At least that's my plan. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

He Made Me A Mama

The chicks are now able to get in and out of their little coop where they spend the night with the help of a small branch we put in it for them to climb. They ballet-dance up the stick and then fly down to the ground or in some cases, a few yards away where their mama is. They are growing up. And I am seeing way more tail feathers and combs than I'd like to but what can you do? 
Wait and see. 
I will point out that this morning the first three out of the coop were the ones with the least amount of tail feathers while the ones with the tail feathers were still peeping around on the ground, trying to figure out how to escape and join the rest of the group. I am NOT saying that the ones with the most tail feathers are definitely roosters and thus, perhaps not as bright as the others, I am just telling you what we witnessed. 

This morning we got a call from the Weatherford brothers which was a lot of fun. Jessie had gone for a little hike and Vergil was feeding them their breakfast so they decided to call the Mer and the Bop. They sounded like they'd dined on crack, as excited and happy as any two boys can be. They told us what they want us to bring when we come visit. So far, that list includes the model car they were working on with their grandfather and also the Professor Wormbog book and the Thomas the Tank Engine book about the judge lady who lost her hat. I believe the farm was also mentioned. By the time we load up everything they believe we should bring, we're going to need to haul the trailer. Jessie told me later today that they keep asking why we aren't there yet. Of course, this makes us feel happy and it also makes us a little sad. We miss them. When I asked them what they've been doing they said that mostly they've been playing with their cousins, riding bikes. 
Turns out that the bike riding is happening on the wrap-around deck that Vergil's sister and brother-in-law have around their house. Ramps have been built for easy access. 

Ooh boy. What fun for Vergil's sister! 
But I know they're just having the very best time. 

This morning was also all about wishing Hank a happy birthday. We'll all be meeting up tomorrow for lunch at...El Patron! Mr. Moon is probably going to be off fishing so he won't be there but the rest of us should be. This IS our birthday season, well, not counting the one at the end of September where there are about five of us who have birthdays. Mr. Moon's birthday is coming up in a few weeks. I made Hank a cake although I have not made the icing yet and it looks like...well, not my best effort. I am just off today, the main reason being that I took another walk and pushed it pretty hard up the hills of White House Road and it was already 85 degrees when I left the house and I haven't been worth shit since I got home. I swore I was going to mop the kitchen floor today but there ain't no way that's going to happen. 

I made a pie crust for a tomato pie and I sure hope that comes out all right. I don't know. I just sort of feel like I'm fucking everything up which of course is not entirely true and even if I am, so what? Forty-five years ago I gave birth to a beautiful baby and he grew up to be someone who has taught me more than I ever could have imagined and I am far from the only one he's been a teacher to. From the moment of his birth he's been a light and a joy to this world, being the unique and wonderful human he is. I remember the day he was born as if it were etched in crystal and tucked away in velvet. I've told the story so many times of how I was in labor for 28 hours at home before I finally gave up and went to the hospital and how I was squatting on the floor, pushing like a beast, while the nurse laughed at me and said, "You better get up on this bed before you have that baby on the floor!" and me thinking, "Who cares????" having forgotten all about the fact that yes, I was having a baby as the effort I had been extending had wiped away anything but the most primitive of thoughts from my brain. Thoughts like, "I want to die now," mainly. 
And then- TA-DA! he was born and I'd never been so happy or so enchanted or so thrilled or so ecstatic in my entire life- I had a baby, a baby, a baby! I could have run a marathon! Holding him in my arms! 

And we went home a few hours later and I snuggled him in our bed and nursed him, that little peach of a child, and I promised him the moon and the stars and anything else he might want ever in this lifetime and tomorrow I'll be taking him a poorly-made cake but, well, that's life. 

It's all a tangle and a tumble and a joy and a wonder and a worry and a tear and a laugh and a confusion and a certainty and a million kisses before it's all over, I guess. Looking back forty-five years and thinking of all that has happened since surely does give me pause and perspective. Pause because- how has it been forty-five years, and perspective because I can see how the things that loomed so large and were so hard turned out to be pretty okay and it's not the moon and the stars that a child needs, it's mainly only all the love you can give them which is the easy part, and the ability to cherish each one in their own differences because by god, they will all be different and if that isn't the coolest thing, I do not know what is.

So Happy Birthday, Hank! I am sorry about the cake. Hopefully the icing will cover up the sins beneath it and at this point in our lives, you know I love you no matter what. A cake is a cake but my love and respect and admiration and perpetual and eternal awe I feel for you does indeed extend to the moon and the stars and back, even if I can't give those heavenly bodies to you. 
But I would if I could. I promise.

Love...Mama

A Big Day For Us

 The other day Lily told me that Owen was having his fifth grade graduation today and it was going to be a drive-by graduation and we could come if we wanted to but not to stress out about and I thought, Oh boy, drive-by graduation? Really?
Plus I'd have to get up a little earlier and it would fuck with my morning routines which is just about impossible for me to deal with these days but god, you know? Owen. My Owen. 
So we did get up a little earlier and I attended to the chickens and we got ourselves ready and drove over to Lily's so that we could ride in the car with her and Owen and Lauren. I had thought that we would drive by Owen at school, but no, Owen was to be in the car too, and we would drive by the entire school, all the classes outside by the fences, students, teachers, from Pre-K to fourth grade and by golly, it was just about the best graduation I ever went to. Each child got cheered for and recognized and there were bubbles and noise-makers and it was sincerely jolly and delightful. 

Our Gibson! 

The merriest of merry makers. 

Magnolia June, waving at her big brother. 

Cars were decorated with posters and balloons, kids were riding with their bodies half out of sun roofs, and it was absolutely wonderful. I was so glad we went. At the very end, there was someone taking graduation photos through the car window, and each child was announced over a loud-speaker, and each child got a yard sign proclaiming them a graduate of Chaires Elementary school and a folder with cool stuff in it. 
Owen, being eleven years old, tried to keep it all cool and act like it was no big deal, no big deal at all but we could tell he was a little bit thrilled, at least. 
And Lily cried. 
When we got back to their house, we took a few pictures. 

We're all so proud of that boy. When I took the picture of him holding the sign by himself I said, "Owen, you have no idea how many people have known you since before you were born and who care about you." He's known I'm writing about him, posting pictures of him, ever since he was old enough to grasp that concept but I doubt he really understands. I wonder if some day he'll go back through my blog and read and see what I've posted about him. I hope so. If I've written this blog for any reason whatsoever, it's so that my children and grandchildren will have a written history of this part of my life and how much of that has involved and included them. 
They will know, without a doubt, how much I love them. 
August and I were talking before they left and I said, "You know what grandmothers are really the best at?" 
"What?" he asked. 
"Loving their grandchildren and letting them know that there is always someone who knows how amazing and wonderful they are and who always, always loved them."
And I believe that. 

We decided to all go get lunch after we were done taking pictures so we headed to the Hilltop. I've got to take a picture of that place sometime. It is...well, I guess I'd have to describe it as country unique. We got there before the lunch time crowd of local work crews and highway patrol officers arrived which was good because it gets busy fast. Since they serve everything from salads to hamburgers to seafood to Reuben and Cuban sandwiches, barbecue, and fried chicken, it's a very popular place. We sat out back and waited for our orders to come up and then we ate, sharing onion rings and macaroni salad, drinking vat-sized cups of soda and iced tea. 

And then it was time to hug good-bye and Lily and Owen and Lauren went off to pick up Maggie and Gibson, and Mr. Moon and I came home to do what needed to be done around here. 
He has finally finished with the azalea trimming and Chinese Rice-Plant pulling. He had to use the four-wheeler to pull the largest of those. Trust me- we are not done with them. They will be back. I referred to the field of Crocosmia revealed by the pulling of that jungle a few days ago and it's even worse than I thought it would be. 
Sigh. 
That's going to be about a month-long job in this heat. I can only take being outside for a certain amount of time and then I'm done. Mr. Moon was soaked as thoroughly as if he'd been working outside in the rain for three hours and I do not know how he did it. 
Hell, I just picked stuff in the garden and that twenty minutes about did me in. 

Y'all- what the hell am I going to do with all of these cherry tomatoes? What, in fact, am I going to do with all the regular-sized tomatoes? I'm not even keeping up with the green beans although I did pickle another four pints and a quart after I'd picked. 

To add to the overflowing bounty around here, Mr. Moon found this when he cleared:

I knew I wasn't getting all the eggs that the hens were laying. That nest is between the front fence and the sidewalk, hidden in croscomia, ferns, and Virginia ivy. What in hell are those chickens thinking? I brought them all in and float-tested them for freshness and all but three failed and then my husband and I agreed that we didn't really feel the need to eat the three that passed, either. So I threw 'em all out in the woods. 

So. It was a good day and I can't believe Owen is going to start middle school next fall. I was just taking his mama to the same middle school he'll be attending yesterday! I swear! 

But here's the real shocker I'm trying to wrap my head around- tomorrow is Hank's forty-fifth birthday. 
Excuse me? 

Dear god, I am old. 

Guess what? I feel old. I think my husband does too. All we do is walk around groaning and wincing at our aches and our pains, our joints are stiffening and crumbling as we speak, sometimes we are laughing, sometimes definitely NOT laughing at our rapidly multiplying symptoms of aging. 

Well. That's the way it is. We've both spent our lives working pretty hard, using our bodies to build, garden and grow, work and walk, haul and dig, and in Mr. Moon's case- play basketball on a very serious level, and in my case to gestate and birth four babies. 
No wonder we get tired now. No wonder our bodies feel worn out. 
They really fucking are. 

And yet... on we go. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Communication Failure

I really screwed the pooch yesterday when I wrote my post. I did not get my meaning across and I've just spent an hour trying to do just that but this is a subject that is so thorny, so "feminist" (and why is that a bad thing?), so deeply ingrained within our patriarchal culture that I think it would take a book to really say what I want to say. 

And I've deleted it all. 

Hopefully, my thoughts will come together soon in a coherent and rational way and I will be able to write something that I can feel good about. 

Until then, I'll just say that we got some rain today and I am most grateful for that. I took a walk and it was hotter than hell and most unpleasant. 
But once again, I did not die. 
I'm always grateful for that although if I had died, I doubt I would have any feelings about it whatsoever. 

Here is the little chick with the feathery feet. 

It is not a great picture but you can see what I mean. Do you see his/her little comb forming? I so hope that we do not have a plethora of roosters here but we probably do. Some of the little ones are already developing some serious tail-feather feathers. 

Also, here are the tomatoes we picked today. 

I'm grateful for those too. 

We'll chat tomorrow. 

Love...Ms. Moon