Last week was tough.  It was happy and insanely productive but truly laborious from early Monday till late Friday.  I am not complaining or trying to get pity here; My husband has a talent for riding the tsunamis of life as though he actually thrives on it, like work and challenges are paradoxically the fuel he needs to meet those challenges.  But this comes at the expense of total depletion by the end of the swell.  So this past weekend was much needed.  We enjoyed Friday night together then agreed to sleep late the one day of the week we can both do that.

   Despite our hope to sleep late and quite irregardless* of the fact that we crashed long past midnight in the darkest, quietest room in the house (not our bedroom), our Saturday morning started as early as any work day. 

   That is just how things go sometimes.

   We both laid there and tried to keep our eyes weighted down and our bodies still, as if trying to fool ourselves back to sleep, but dawn had already found us out and the day was beginning. 

   Birdsong was still fresh and soft, not yet important sounding; coffee was brewing faithfully in the kitchen; and pulsing orange sunlight had silently elbowed its way between the living room curtains.  It was an earlier wake up call than we had craved for our Saturday, but it was a gentle and beautiful one. 

  

   After a few minutes of kissing and stretching and laughing about our mutual inability to sleep very late, Handsome and I rolled out of our cozy Green Room nest.  Pacino (our macaw) greeted us with sweet nothings and feathery cuddles.  Soon I was armed with two mugs of perfect hot coffee and a bag of stale hot dog buns.  The latter was for the chickens, not my husband.  He eats slightly better than that most days.

   I found Handsome on the east sidewalk untethering our comfiest patio chairs.  (We keep them bungee-corded to a metal garden table because of the ridiculous wind here.)  He welcomed me to sit with him, and I gave him his coffee. 

   Our twenty one chickens, six guineas, and one Tom turkey (named Clark-Grievous) discovered our appearance and had us surrounded in a flash.  We are catnip to our poultry children, just to let you know.  And this Saturday morning the Catnip Poultry Parents had stale hot dog buns to share. 

   So we luxuriated in the special Oklahoma morning, breezy but not windy and warm but not hot.  It felt brimming with possibility and pleasure.  We sipped coffee, feeding the skittish and hilarious birds, watching and listening to the farm wake up. 

   By the time the sun was fully visible through the trees in the east field, we had emptied both our hot dog bun baggie and the coffee pot.  The horses were whinnying about why in the world THEY didn’t get a pre-breakfast treat.   

   And I was grateful to have not slept late, happy not to have missed this.

*hi Margi!

   Life has been opening up to us lately in an almost magical way.  At a time when circumstances might look to an outsider (or a well meaning insider even) like we should be mourning, suffering, and constantly weeping over broken things, something unseen lifts us into bliss over and over again. 

   It is easy now to imagine that we will one day look back on these years with lots of joy and thankfulness and not so much sorrow.  In fact, the blessings in life are overtaking the troubles at an alarming rate.  I was not able to say that sincerely six months ago.  I was faking it till I was making it. 

   Happily, despair is now deep in the past.

   The larger my appetite for living grows, the faster time slips away from me.  Is that a sign of growing older?  Or one of growing happier? 

   Weekly, Handsome and I see joy and reward added to our plate far beyond what we deserve.  Scarcely a day finishes without one of us looking over at the other with a smile, shaking our head about “how cool that is” or “what an answer.”  This is a wonderful condition to be living, but I have to admit that sometimes it gives me tremors. 

   My weakness whispers to my heart that it cannot last.  That my hope is unfounded, our pleasures fleeting, my happiness a vain imagining.  Puke!  What poison!

   Refusing to succumb to this slippery slope, I actively scrape up every memory of prayers answered and dreams fulfilled out of the blue, focusing my eyes and heart on the abundant beauty surrounding us.

   I fix my schedule around repetitive domestic tasks, animal care taking, and working on every constructive thing I can think of.  Then I indulge in hobbies I might not always have time for. 

   I take Siestas.

   Handsome works himself to the point of dangerous exhaustion, both at home and at his office.  And together we treasure, among others, the gifts of romance, faith, family, and friendship in our life. 

   By the way, we hold close to us 

   Thusly  I dive back into another day.  And before I know it the day is really too short to do it all, to enjoy it all.  Life isn’t giving me quite enough time to share again everything I have been given.  I find myself trying to just keep up with the beauty and wonder of the world at my fingertips, and no spell ever breaks; life just continues.   And I love it.

   So whatever you are facing, keep facing it.  Don’t let any fear, circumstances, mistakes, or difficulty shake you off course.  However dark your storm, remember that especially in Oklahoma the weather can change with no warning.  And you are resilient and blessed beyond your widlest dreams.

xoxo

   I will soon be adopting the Spanish custom of taking a siesta.  Don’t judge me.  Lots of highly productive and fulfilled people throughout history have long spent the middle hours of the day at rest. 

   Charlemagne, anyone?  Don Quixote?

   Many solid reasons support this practice.  More than just a happy throwback to Kindergarten napping, taking a siesta is good for your digestion and maybe even your heart health; it helps prevent heat exhaustion and overexposure to the dangerous sun; it can clear your mind before a busy evening; and it might even reduce your electricity bill.  Yep.

   We’ll get back to that last one in just a sec.

   The custom of making the midday meal heavier than the late night meal is globally and historically a lot more widespread than the alternative, and unnamed experts and fancy pantses agree it’s healthiest.  And as big meals tend to make a person sleepy (in Bengal they call it rice-sleep), resting afterward is just perfectly reasonable.
  

   Especially where the climate is hot and the day’s burdens are agricultural, resting after a substantial lunch is also a safety measure.  We certainly meet that criteria.  Oklahoma summers are HOT man.  Like, regularly in excess of 100 degrees, humid, and windy.  So steamy it feels like you are standing in front of a wet blowing furnace.  That kind of hot.

   Why more people in our modern North American culture do not observe siesta is a mystery to me.  Doing so is neither laziness nor apathy; it is rather a wise and well timed conservation of health and energy.  I for one am going to start this as soon as possible, which is today.

   The electricity billing at our little farm has recently seen a major update.  We now pay different rates per kilowatt hour according to the time of day, corresponding to the demand being placed on the grid at that time.  The point of this new program is to encourage efficiency and spread the load across the clock, because electricity cannot really be stored.  It has to be produced pretty much right when it is used.  

  My husband can explain all of this brilliantly, but for now suffice it to say that the same power consumption at 10 in the morning is considerably less expensive than, say, 6 in the evening when everybody is home and busy cooking, cooling off, and watching Swamp People. 

   To be a little more specific, we arrange our farm days with the understanding that “peak time” is from 2 pm till 7 pm.  During these hours we avoid heavily electrified chores and activities.   And our house is total electric, so that kind of includes everything you might do indoors.

   And truly working outdoors during the hottest part of the day, in Oklahoma, is asking for heatstroke. 

   Finally, few people know this, but late afternoon is when taste buds are most receptive to both fruit and yogurt smoothies and sweet iced tea.  Scientifically, this is also the time of day when your eyes are best suited for consuming new release literature.  You cannot fight biology. 

   Catching my drift?  Siesta.  Grab a book and a cold drink, find your hammock, and shut down a few expensive appliances.

   I can think of a few other perfect solutions for the 2pm till 7 pm chapter of my weekdays, and they all fit nicely under this enticing Latin umbrella.

     So for at least the next eight or nine weeks, in the latter afternoon hours, my batteries shall recharge whilst the rest of you Westerners slave away in either the extreme heat or the extremely expensive air conditioning.  My evenings shall be freshly approached, my metabolism shall find reprieve from heavy nighttime meals, my reading lists shall gradually dwindle, and Handsome will be happy to have saved some electriciy dollars.  Dollars which will then be spent on more fruit and yogurt smoothies for the afternoons.

   If all of these compelling arguments have failed to sway you to siesta along with me, still please suspend judgment.  I won’t be able to hear your Industrial Revolution comments anyway.  Because I will be away, resting.