Archives for 2015

french quarter container gardens

May 6, 2015

Without a doubt, New Orleans has the gardening thing down pat. I am actually convinced that the fine folks down South just scatter magical seeds out on Mardi Gras Eve, water them with gumbo, say some Cajun blessings, and enjoy lush gardens the rest of the season.

The city boasts that historic Garden District, of course, and expansive horticultural palettes grace lawns and causeways everywhere you look. But specifically, the people there have mastered the art of container gardening. And more specifically, I’m talking about the people and the container gardens of my beloved French Quarter. What a great thing, too, because aside from ancient arching trees and a rare municipal lawn here and there, the Quarter is well armored with jagged brick sidewalks and narrow asphalt streets. If a resident or shop owner craves the softening allure of plants, then that person had better get inspired to grow in containers.

First, some eye candy and inspiration…

Love this! An actual ficus tree growing in a nest of lush, cloudy asparagus fern.
We fake this so hard in Oklahoma.
What we should be doing is reinterpreting the look with native plants.

I like the height of this tree and its giant leaves with just some easy stuff beneath.
Very Zen, right? So simple and perfect for a clean lined patio seating area.

This hotel is on a street corner, and every single window and doorway
on both wrap-around sides is planted in coordinating boxes.
I am smitten! The uniformity is just so charming.
And let’s pay attention to the conical shape of those topiaries and how formal they feel,
mixed with those casual orange blooms and how welcoming they are.
Kind of a genius combo for a fancy hotel, if you ask me.

Cascading English ivy with a profusion of silly, ruffly color.
Annuals, technically, but I have walked through this neighborhood
in every single season of the year
and this store always has color in their window boxes. Always.
Time to step up our container game, ladies and gents.

Oh the photo above is just an example of how that same fancy hotel
translates their formal-casual design to smaller boxes.
No topiary but still uniform. Still charming.

If you look closely, you can see that this gorgeous glazed urn
is maybe planted with one large plant
which is then surrounded by a few smaller potted plants.
Still in their plastic pots! It’s in the Big Easy, remember?
I just like this because it shows how you can sometimes
get away with cramming a vessel with fast color to make an big impact.
Beware in Oklahoma of leaving this outdoors too long, though!

A single, healthy potted tree strung with lights. Kind of my jam, friends. Do this.

You just cannot discuss French Quarter container gardens without acknowledging
the famous iron trellises and hanging baskets.
The lacework we all love so much.

This might be hard to see, but that lower edge there is a bricked in container garden,
long and narrow against the wall.
It is jam-packed with plants! And I love it.
It’s situated adjacent to a small boutique hotel
with a perfect brick drive and iron gate at the entrance.
One day I asked permission from a concierge (dressed in tails and white gloves)
to walk down the private drive to see this garden better and take photos.
Of course he said Yes, dahlin in a syrupy southern accent and bowed as I walked past.
I was transfixed. And those white vining flowers smelled like heaven.

This is the wall opposite that first wall, in the same private drive.
I mean!! So much green, right?
It is stunning in person. It reaches almost two stories high.
So simple and yet such a powerful impact.
And I love that the gardener didn’t get lazy at the end,
that he or she used every scrap of earth to grow stuff, more color in this instance.
Well done, sir or madam. Well done.

Just some whimsical metal art filled up with plain houseplants, but it is so FUN!

The Quarter is connected with a vast network of alleyways like this.
Secret ones, mostly, that you really have to be watching for to enjoy.
And they all lead to places even more beautiful behind the long, narrow buildings,
often tiny concrete pool courtyards. Magical!
Can you imagine this hard-scaped view without the plants?
It would be far less interesting, I think.
The plants here an there just soften all the edges.
They invite you in and help you breathe slowly.
They tell you how comfortable you’ll be
if you come sit and order some coffee and beignets.
Tip some street performers and soak up some live music.
Watch the locals. Inhale the spices.

Ok! Now, a few notes…

Why bother with container gardening? Well, reasons abound, but to my mind, the first is that it could be a problem solver. Maybe your growing footprint is by necessity small or concrete-bound, like in the Quarter. Or perhaps you have a vertical plane in need of camouflage. Also, container gardens are often portable, allowing for relocation seasonally or in inclement weather, and this also makes them great for flexible use if you entertain outdoors. I love moving my potted beauties around for parties! Maybe the most fun reason of all, container gardens are excellent little opportunities to add style and a sense of accessory to your space. They invite a certain freedom that maybe ground planting doesn’t. Strands of white fairy lights, anyone? Painted signs, ornaments, you name it. For some reason, container gardens are natural stages for artistic expression. So many good reasons.

Considering Environment: Where in this beautiful world are you gardening? The Lazy W is in a southern part of Zone 7, but our nine acres seem to offer a little bit of everything, micro-climate wise. Breezeless dry shade, swamp, sand, loam, clay, gusty desert-hot full sun, prairie, woodland, and good ol’ residential patio too. So gardening here can be as challenging as it is fun. Compared to New Orleans, it’s extremely complicated. Anyway, yes, NOLA may have a few environmental advantages over us (kinder, filtered light, high humidity, all that live jazz which apparently is very good for plants), but we can do plenty to imitate or interpret their success:

Line your containers. Coconut fiber is classic and popular, and this year I am also trying Rootmaker brand liners. Word is, they cut your watering chores down by at least half. I’ll keep you posted!
Use good quality potting soil, not garden soil. The tilth is crucial and having some time-released fertilizer invited to the party isn’t a terrible idea. It’s a small investment up front that you will be so glad you made the rest of the season. Also pay attention to your plants’ space and drainage needs. One weird mistake I sometimes make is cramming little plants together without having faith that they’ll ever grow. So of course they don’t! They die of suffocation I guess. Have faith! Give them some room.
Consider location. Lots of Oklahoma sidewalks and patios will get way too hot in the afternoon to bear up lush looking plants. Think about relocating or providing some shade from both the heat and the inevitable straight-line winds.
Establish a smart maintenance strategy, including watering for sure but also feeding and pruning. Not once in a while, either; every single day. Something I notice about early mornings in the Quarter is that while shopkeepers and residents are out sweeping their steps and opening their doors for the day, they are also watering and grooming their potted things. It’s a simple daily ritual that I think goes a long way toward a beautiful environment. Oh, this reminds of that wonderful old adage, The best fertilizer is the gardener’s shadow. Love that. This year I plan to design my morning ritual of tidying up the house and feeding the animals to also include tending the container gardens. Again, every day not once in a while. This is something we can do without wearing our sweaty garden clothes and muddy shoes! A lovely domestic thing that will only expand our living spaces.

Okay, that was fun! I have about a thousand more photos of New Orleans gardens, container and otherwise, but I better close up for now and go tend my own. Tell me something you love about container gardens. Post a photo of your own on this blog’s Facebook page! That would be cool to see creative spots from all over. If you have any questions or gardenish things you’d like to discuss I would be all over that too!

These are a few containers I planted at the farm yesterday,
just as the rain started falling.
This morning, of course, we woke up to a monsoon
and a lake instead of a pond, and we are so grateful!
More color coming for sure.

Remember, your garden is both your masterpiece and your playground.
Work hard but have fun with it.
XOXOXOXO

marathon monday: a week later

May 4, 2015

Hey friends! Thanks for checking in!

We are one week past the 2015 OKC Memorial Marathon, and all I’ve written about it was The Pretzel Story. My wonderful husband and close friends have already had to listen to so much jabbering about that whole day, but for posterity’s sake and for any readers even considering marathon training, I just want to lay down some thoughts and feelings about this year’s experience. It’s taken a week for my thoughts and feelings to settle and clarify a bit, so thank you for indulging me. xoxo

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

I was kind of a mess last Sunday after what ended as a really difficult, sloppy, not awesome feeling race, at least compared to the year before. The 2015 race will go down in my personal history as “The Crying Games” or “The One When I l Learned a Lot By Doing Everything Wrong” or maybe “Shark Week 26.2.” Okay.

First, let me say that the beginning of the run was great! With just one exception, I felt strong, fast, and happy for the first 18 miles. The one exception was that I was in the middle Shark Week (sorry, errant male readers, that’s just TMI but crucial to the story) and it was necessary to take several porta potty breaks much earlier than I would have liked. Well, naturally those lines were all very long. So I lost not just time but also momentum. Womp-womp.

But I kept running and running, without music for about 12 miles, just listening to the thunderous footfall around me and eavesdropping on all the silly, energetic conversations between running groups. Admiring the firemen for running in full gear while carrying large American flags. Thinking of the reason we run. Allowing swells of pride for my home state. Everyone seemed to feel good! I played celebrity look-alike in my head, trying to catch up to my pace group after breaks. I craved the hills and took them and it felt like flight! Generally I was smiling and happy. My body felt good. I was loving the sparkling clear, warm morning with cool breezes. Such a pleasant contrast to last year’s weather. With that one uncontrollable physical exception, the early part of the race was charmed. Lovely.

Even Lake Hefner was fun this year! I circled the route there while listening to Miranda Lambert and even called my favorite guy to report how strong I felt at the point where last year I was beginning to wonder. He laughed and cheered me on. Anything felt possible.

Unfortunately this magic did not last.

Around mile 18 Handsome made one of his wonderful appearances with a sign that both drenched me with love and triggered so many emotions. ALL the feelings. Good, bad, ugly. You name it: I was feeling it. I started crying and couldn’t stop. And by this point in the run I was so annoyed by those inconvenient porta potty breaks that I was stubbornly refusing to accept regular water or Powerade, which would have necessitated more breaks. So I was sweating, crying, and not replenishing fluids. Really smart!

Miles 18-22 were not terrible, but by now my chosen pace group was no where to be seen, and this, plus the crying, had a deteriorating effect on my attitude. Also an older gentleman in a wheelchair passed me and I just about lost my mind. No offense to him, but I’d been running so much faster lately! At the time it was really hard to wrap my dehydrated mind around that little defeat. I did some math in my head (badly) and estimated my pace was about a quarter mile per hour. I was on the verge of an emotional melt down, friends. Not kidding.

Around mile 22, right at the end of the street of my childhood home, I hugged and kissed my family (I love you guys so much!!), and laughed because my husband showed up there in his Batman costume. Ha! This all should have had a much better influence on my feelings than it did. It’s no one else’s fault that I was in such a bummer state of mind! My fault totally.

Despite everyone’s loving efforts, I then started feeling really bad. I ran south on Classen to eventually collide with my book club girls. They showed up for the second year and melted my heart! Near the gold dome (locals know this area) I just collapsed in their arms. They were all festive and sweet, in celebratory moods and sipping mimosas, probably expecting me to be happy at that point just like last year, but I was a mess. When she saw me up close, Melissa’s face fell noticeably, Oh my, and they all wrapped their arms around me (Eww super sweaty, gross! Sorry!) and asked Are you okay? and Why are you crying? About all I could say in reply was I’m just so sad!! And then I started sobbing. I wasn’t sad exactly; I was dehydrated and completely empty of glycogen and feeling weak mentally because I felt bloated and slow and loser-ish.

Okay, I was sad.

From there, in that state, three-point-two more miles seemed perfectly impossible. But I kept running. Sloppily, I’m quite sure. I cried a lot as I ran which is weird because usually I am grinning like an idiot when I run. Even at twenty miles I usually feel amazing. I learned this year that sometimes there is a vast difference between twenty miles and twenty six. One lady stopped to check on me. I waved her on but she kept pep-talking me over her shoulder as she sped off at the thin, toned, sparkling speed of light. I loved her and hated her all at once.

As I meandered painfully through that last big, shady neighborhood with lawn parties and sprinklers and generous encouragements, Handsome texted me the most beautiful love note. I looked at it like five times to keep going and also felt completely guilty for having a hard time running. I felt like a complete waste of a person in those last miles.

About nine years later I saw a wide vinyl banner strung across the street that said “Half Mile Aisle” and there might have been a band playing. I was excited because of this thought: Oh good, a half mile left! Just like 4 minutes to go! (Training pace lately had me pumped up beyond realistic marathon pace expectations) Umm, two appropriate responses to myself here: a) That was not my pace that day. At all. b) Even if 4 minutes to cover a half mile was possible, at that point I was so crazy spent physically and mentally that four minutes was still a lot to give. No longer easy-breezy. No more running hard to catch up whilst playing celebrity look alike in my head. It was an eternity left to run.

About seven months after the Half Mile Aisle, I finally crossed the finish line at a pathetic jog. Not a strong, glorious, Chariots of Fire burst of energy, not even the giggling elation I felt last year. Just, finished. Quietly. And it was enough for me. I walked immediately and stretched my legs then walked some more. Someone hung a finisher’s medal around my neck and said sweet things that made me cry again. Someone else took my picture which turned out looking like I’d gained about twenty pounds. I found water and Powerade (that I still wouldn’t drink). I went for a half banana and the guy said, Hon you look like you need chocolate. WHAT!!! HOW DID HE KNOW?? I accepted the chocolate-almond protein bar and tore into it like a velociraptor.

The rest of Sunday was blissful, thanks owed completely to Handsome for all of his love and attention throughout the day and into the evening. We went immediately for steak fajitas and salty tortilla chips, at a place near the farm where my sweaty clothes, pronounced limp, and weird mood would not be noticed. Actually, by this point my mood had lightened considerably. Being with my guy again and just being finished was such a relief.

Big thanks are also owed to my wonderful friends and family for their notes, text messages, and sweet social media comments that I read later that night. (My husband had been posting race updates on Facebook in excruciating detail, complete with photos. LOL) But all over again I felt guilty for receiving so much support for such a poor showing. I felt super lame and embarrassed.

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

Okay, the detailed account could go on and on. Here are some things I learned this year, which I am determined to carry over into my next marathon training, which maybe be Spring 2016 and may be sooner:

Dieting for weight loss is not something you should do right before a big race. It’s silly and possibly dangerous. In those middle training months I had been making so much progress with speed and endurance and also making small improvements with body fat loss that I thought, Well, if I just slash all carbs now I will be so skinny on race day! The opposite happened. I gained a little weight (our bodies are smart and know when we are trying to kill them) and had no energy. Terrible result. One pasta meal in the week leading up to 26.2 is not enough glycogen. Lesson learned.
Especially in those final eight miles or so, hydration and energy supplements are crucial. I won’t neglect them ever again. Even if you have to pee later, those little sips are worth it. But chances are, really, you won’t. Your body will probably use every ounce of hydration you offer it. Take the water! Take the electrolytes! Eat the sports beans every ten or fifteen minutes! No matter what you consumed yesterday, after a couple of hours you have spent it and need more.
Pacing is not a guessing game. I could have done so much better at this, and this coming season I will. Pinky promise.
Also, negative splits are good. Running hard at the beginning and then faltering at the end is positive splits, which is actually a running negative. I finally understand the value of running negative splits (saving energy for the end of the race) and plan to practice this a lot.
The wall is a real thing. This year I discovered The Wall, and it was about five miles thick. I’ve felt tired before in long practice runs, and last year’s marathon gave me a challenge here and there, but nothing compares to this year! For the first time I hit the wall really hard and was stunned. It’s as real as a runner’s high, and it hurt my feelings. But I’m actually glad to have experienced it. Now I know how it feels and can train against it, not take those happier runs for granted.
The mental game is real, too. So real. The more I concentrated on how poorly I (thought I) was doing*, the worse I did. The more I indulged in sad thoughts about loved ones lost or disconnected, the sadder I felt. It was only in those early miles when I chose to focus on the lightness in my legs or the wonderful purpose of the day that running felt glorious.

So that’s it! My 2015 recap. Stories abound, so if you’re ever bored and want to be even more bored, let me know. I am so glad to have this under my belt, even as rough and ugly as it was. I learned a LOT and that’s valuable life stuff, right? Thanks again for checking in, friends! Have such a beautiful day.

XOXOXOXO
~Marie

*Perception: My sloppy running and sloppy head math made me think I was running about a 17 minute mile.
Cue the emotional break down. I actually averaged out to about a 12 minute pace,
which is much slower than I had been training but also not quite so terrible.
I am really excited to set speed goals this coming year!

coconut pecan pralines

April 29, 2015

Pecan Pralines. Another favorite straight from the heart of the French Quarter. This little life luxury is one that always seems more extravagant than it really is. They always come together more easily than I expect, and how perfect for something that hails from The Big Easy, right? I know.

Today I made a variation of this old standby recipe as a thank you gift for our friend Dennis. He was nice enough to come check on the farm during our NOLA absence last week. Which leads me to the reason Pralines (along with some fun hot sauce) are the perfect thank you for him: Dennis always insists that what he does for us is no big deal, that it’s easy, no matter that his help gives us tremendous peace of mind. After that fashion, I like that this tasty treat is fast and easy to prepare but should (hopefully) give him tremendous pleasure. I groove this balance.

My variation today was simple and twofold: I just used much smaller pieces of the same amount of toasted pecans (instead of great big pecans halves) plus some chopped up, toasted raw coconut for fun. About three years ago I secretly made out with a big praline like this in New Orleans and just Fell. In. Love. He gave me beads, we hid behind the banana trees, everyone was happy.

Anyway. The gritty, complicated texture of a coconut pecan praline is only matched in wonderfulness by its buttery, beachy, indulgent flavor. Pecans and coconut are so crazy good together. Eating just one of these will give you a nice Southern drawl whether you like it or not.

Here’s the low down:

Ingredients:

1 cup packed brown sugar

1 cup granulated sugar

1/2 cup evaporated milk (not quite one small can)

4 T butter, chopped up

big splash of vanilla extract

1 1/2 cup chopped and toasted pecans

1 cup flaked raw coconut, also chopped and toasted

Such an Easy Method You Won’t Believe This:

1. In a medium saucepan, melt together the two sugars and evaporated milk. Let it all dissolve and cook into golden brown seduction and stir with a wooden spoon as it goes. Now insert a candy thermometer.

2. You’re now watching for the candy thermometer to reach about 240 degrees. Keep stirring, ok? When you see that mercury rise silently to that temp, turn off the heat and drop the diced up butter on top but do not stir anymore yet. Let it rest.

3. In about one minute, add the vanilla, pecans, and coconut. Now stir some more with that same wooden spoon. Stir your little heart out. Stir until the hot, syrupy mixture looks more like opaque candy and you need some muscle to move that spoon. You’re almost done.

4. Now use an ice cream scoop (just for uniformity and ease, if you care about that) to make about a dozen big, glossy puddles of chunky praline mixture on your prepared cookie sheets. Oh I forgot to tell you to prepare a couple of cookie sheets! Sorry. Just line two with waxed paper or parchment paper. These babies will cool and harden and eventually pop right off of either of those, then you can add them to some soft old tattered linen.

See how easy? Just a few dishes to wash. Less than half an hour, plus cooling and hardening time. Very few ingredients, too. I dare say you’ll have this classic recipe memorized after one or two passes. And feel free to get creative! In New Orleans, the candy shops boast all variations of the beloved praline: Coconut (like we made today), chocolate drizzled, chewy, boozy, you name it.

Last but not least, do you like to pronounce it pray-LEEN? Or do you say PRAH-leen? I suspect your answer will tell me whether you drink coffee or hot tea. And therefore whether we can be early morning friends.

Thanks again to our friend Dennis for not letting the buffalo escape and for keeping the chickens fed and the parrot more or less sane. Thanks for making sure the llamas didn’t go on any joy rides in my Jeep and for texting me that adorable video of our animals right when I was getting really homesick. You’re the best. I hope you like your coconut pralines and hot sauce!!

Laissez les bons temps rouler!
XOXOXOXO

marathon monday: the pretzel story

April 27, 2015

I have in my own head a million stories from the whole experience yesterday, but I realize most of them may only be interesting to me. What follows is a relatively short anecdote, something that happened around mile 20 maybe? And it pretty well exemplifies my marathon personality. Specifically, my level of awkwardness that I can’t even shake during a big event like this.

Keen on not drinking any more Powerade because it makes me feel weird in mah belly, I approached an aid station and accepted a plastic cup that from a distance seemed to be clear. I assumed it was water, my desired refreshment, and snagged the plastic cup with clumsy thank yous. A few yards away I realized it was actually filled with mini pretzels, which I also didn’t need in mah belly. Sooooo… did I just toss them? Nope. That would have been wasteful. I jogged back to the same aid station volunteer (why??) and tried to return the snack to him. He looked at me like I was off my rocker crazy and said, at least I think this is what he said, because I was listening to music by now, Shakira at that moment, “You don’t want them?” He was truly perplexed.

“No, thanks though! Thanks! I appreciate it but I thought it was water, you can have it back and give it to someone else who wants them.” I rattled the cup as if to demonstrate to the guy that water doesn’t make this sound, mmkay? And I was actually shouting those long, unnecessary sentences because, you know, Shakira. He took a very long time deciding to go ahead and accept it back from me, then there was an awkward moment of eye contact between us. Really weird vibe. I finally shouted again at the poor guy, “I didn’t touch them!” And ran off.

My god. I am embarrassed to be seen with myself.

The End.

okc marathon expo 2015

April 25, 2015

Hello, happy Saturday! It’s finally race weekend in Oklahoma City, and it seems like about half the state is all revved up and participating in one way or another. Such an incredible community feeling, and that includes visitors from all over! I love it. I am so proud to be an Okie.

Happy to be home and refreshed from a week in New Orleans, today I drove downtown to the Expo to pick up my bib, t-shirt, and more goodies (including so many free samples of food!) and thought I’d share a few snippets.

I was feeling just this side of nervous and unprepared for tomorrow until I walked in through these cheerful balloons. And then everybody started talking about the fun stuff and wishing each other well and asking what event you’re running. Just the best vibe!! I picked up my packet in about thirty seconds, snagged a shirt, and browsed the vendor booths.

Overall the feeling at the Expo is very upbeat and joyful, but lest we forget why we’re all gathered in the first place, there is a display of 168 race bibs, one number reserved for each of the victims of the Murrah Building Bombing. It will hush you and give you chills just walking past. We run to remember.

While at the Expo I took the opportunity to meet Olympic gold medalist Joe Jacobi. I listened to him speak to the crowd about the spirit of service, personal growth, and taking accountability for your life. I’ve been following his inspirational writing (it’s about sports but much more than sports) for a while and was just delighted to finally meet him in person! My mind is swimming with ideas and I’ll be sharing this great stuff with you guys soon. By the way, he’s running the full marathon tomorrow too! When an accomplished athlete wishes you well on your run, friends, it’s awesome.

Oh listen, Brooks shoe company wants us to run happy okay? Run really happy. Okay. Done! I have my cute new Brooks Pure Flows all broken in, and around 6:30 tomorrow morning I will be running very happy indeed. Because tapering is making me crazy. Not running is for the birds.

I bumped into Lisa, a woman who has been SUCH a running inspiration to me these past few years! She was also my girls’ Science teacher way back when, and I have a ton of affection for her in my heart. We did not take a photo together, and now I’m sad about that. So good to see her though! She is a member of the Landrunner’s club and has accomplished every single one of the Memorial events over the years! This year she is serving as a finish line volunteer. So cool. Seeing her really gave me such a boost.

Big news, little brother Joey. I am now the proud owner of a foam roller!! Let the muscle punishment begin. And look at this cute shirt! 2015, twenty years after the bombing, marks the fifteenth Memorial Marathon.

I bought a million packs of sports beans in two flavors because I am out of control. Ate a free, cozy silver-dollar sized pancake because I finally started carbing up today. Tried a KIND bar but didn’t like it nearly as much as Kashi. (KIND is too low protein for that many calories, too.) Smiled at everyone and enjoyed 100% smiles back. I tried to purchase a buffalo-Oklahoma t-shirt for Handsome to thank him for all the marathon prep support he’s provided, but the vendor’s credit card machine wouldn’t work. It’s cool, though, in retrospect, because I remember the guy saying that despite living in OKC he’s not a Thunder fan. What the heck?? Sort of happy to not have given him my business. ((haha))

I had really hoped to finally meet my reader-Facebook friend Marcella and her beautiful running daughter today, but our timing was off. My fingers are crossed that we can find each other around the corrals at sunrise!! xoxo Hello ladies!

Several other community events are happening this weekend leading up to the actual race, and I hope if you’re here to run or support a runner that you join in! There’s a shoe blessing, a pasta dinner, a pancake breakfast, and more. Lots of wonderful speaker events as the Expo continues, and truly the vendors are so great. Surprisingly good prices. My plans are to rest at the farm tonight, eat a heaping bowl of pasta with chicken breast and veggie marinara, hydrate for sure, and go to bed early.

Thank you for checking in, and if you are running tomorrow RUN HAPPY! Enjoy every mile. If you are cheering for a runner tomorrow, BLESS YOUR HEART!! It almost makes me cry just thinking about my sweet people.

Over and out, see you tomorrow after the race!!

XOXOXOXO

P.S. One more time, just for good measure, tapering sucks.

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