Lazy W Marie

Carpeing all the diems in semi-rural Oklahoma...xoxo

deep sleep, blackbirds, & some magic

We slept so late. More than nine hours in bed. Our smooth new slate-colored sheets must have chamomile leaves woven into the cotton.

We creep outside well past daybreak. The morning is warm and absent of any breeze but overcast, as gray as our magical sleeping sheets. Perfect coffees in hand and one hundred-pound puppy bouncing around our ankles, we start the day already simmering in affection and buffered by safety. Hot Tub Summit. We plan our day.

An hour later we are outside again, this time dressed and sitting at a round metal table next to the barn, facing downhill. We are still wrapped by the warm woolly air, no technicolor sunrise today. Our four-leggeds eat their breakfast contentedly. So fat and beautiful. Hens tease roosters, darting seductively across the middle field, scratching at horse manure, chuckling in the dormant flower garden. The birdsong is exceptional. We hear and scout for cardinals, blue jays, doves, and woodpeckers. Then it happens.

Out of the southwest corner of the farm, a dense flock of blackbirds, half as wide as our property and trailing twice that length, swoops up over the sand hills, maybe from the forest or maybe beyond, and speeds across the farm. They are too high to touch but low enough to force the air down in whooshes with their energetic flight. The birds are massed together into one quilted black flying carpet, undulating and speeding between the sky and the earth, slicing through the moment.

They race toward one tree with one purpose and land on an oak just past my husband’s car shop. Its branches dip and dance from the burden. Every twig now is dotted with a round black bird, the whole mass still twittering and vibrating. Handsome takes photos of the spectacle.

When they eventually hush, the regular birdsong resumes. I cannot tell whether the cardinals, blue jays, doves and woodpeckers were quiet during this stunning display or just out-sung. Either way, the heartbeat of the farm returns to normal.

Chickens laughing again and roosters crowing on every side. Geese preening with soft honks down by the pond. Horses snuffling and bison knocking around a fallen tree with his massive horns.

I have one more cup of perfect coffee to sip before deciding between work and play. But on days like this, when the magic here is so thick, it’s hard to know the difference.

Happy Valentine’s Day friends
Enjoy some magic
XOXOXOXO

extra curricular activities, lately

My life and schedule seem to be undergoing as much change lately as the leaves and temperatures outside. The changes are gradual, for the most part, but certainly noticeable. I thought I’d fill you guys in a tiny bit and see what feels like a story worth telling.

The Oklahoma Master Gardeners, which you heard so much about last year as I attended classes, is now a more permanent part of my life. If you follow along on Instagram then you might have noticed that a few weeks ago we graduated from student-interns to certified. I think. I mean, are we yet? Who knows? haha We might be at least certifiable. But the ceremony was fun and satisfying after so much reading and so many hours of phone duty. Now my ongoing responsibilities are mostly with the group’s Social Media Committee. This is great for me, because I like to stay home as much as possible but still contribute and keep in touch with folks. As the momentum with this fledgling project builds, I will have the opportunity to share really good, useful gardening information with anyone who feels like listening. A week or so ago was our monthly meeting, and afterwards I went to a brainstorming lunch with Elizabeth, one of the other two ladies on our committee, in fact the chair. She is one of the friendliest people you will ever meet. Do you remember our garden tour stop at her Mesta Park home? Same sweet lady. She is very encouraging and direct when it comes to brainstorming sessions, and she has excellent taste in lunch fare. We tried a place in midtown OKC that was completely new to me. She also took me to a nearby community garden filled with foods and herbs, but I will show you more of that another day.

me w elizabeth nov 2015

This was a "haus salad" topped with feta and fresh falafel. Delicious to the max.
This was a “haus salad” topped with feta and fresh falafel. Delicious to the max.

EC mg decor

 

Another big slice of my time is being devoted to the Oklahoma Beekeepers’ Association. Perhaps you already knew that our Lazy W Honeymakers went the way of the dinosaurs, so I have been lax in giving pollinator updates around here. But I never gave up hope. My great-grandfather was so accomplished, and I am so surrounded by knowledgeable, generous people, how could I  ever give up? So anyway, at the recent statewide conference for the Oklahoma Beekeepers’ Association, I was elected Secretary. I had already agreed to write the state newsletter whenever needed (I am a dork and love pretending to be a reporter), so this is a great fit. The fact that my new role will give me even more exposure to successful beekeepers is just icing on the honey cake. haha Below I am posing happily with Maribeth, my mentor and friend who you have met several times here on my blog. She is serving as President for the organization in the coming year, probably the coming decade. I am super exited about this new undertaking. (If you got the bee joke there in that last sentence, bonus points to you.)

 

EC me maribeth

When I make time for it, I am running again. I’ll post more about that probably next Monday, but the short version is that I have set a goal for November of 100 miles, just to get back in the groove of things. When I don’t have a race or a “little back dress” event coming up, it is scary easy to make excuses about my nutrition and put running at the bottom of my priorities list. I always pay for that mistake with a bad attitude, low energy, and more, so this month I am happy to be back in some healthy habits. I am already seeing improvements.

The west field loop is just perfection right now. Wedding Meadow is crunchy but colorful.
The west field loop is just perfection right now. Wedding Meadow is crunchy but colorful.

Something else old that is new again? Sewing! My embroidery machine is finally home from the repair shop, long story, and then Handsome surprised me with a second brand new sewing machine. So on the days that I seclude myself in the Apartment to drum up a cottony, scrappy storm, both machines plus the iron are going pretty non stop. It’s a very soothing sound, often shadowed by some Sting or Carla Bruni music. I am having lots of fun filling orders for friends and hope this trend continues.

EC sew

The farm is doing pretty great, all distractions considered. Yes, I could spend a little more time scooping manure or raking leaves or maybe learning to ride our lazy horses, who have no real duties besides snuffling me. I could also spend more time in the gardens before winter hits, because I know in a matter of weeks I will be sad for sunshine. But the days and weeks are in balance with my priorities right now. I truly feel settled. The season for other things will roll around eventually.

Can you tell from this distance how much Klaus has grown? When he runs between my legs I can just about sit on him.

Can you tell from this distance how much Klaus has grown? When he runs between my legs I can just about sit on him.

So all this is what has been keeping me too busy to blog much, all the stuff I’ve been doing between feeding and cooking and cleaning up after said feeding and cooking. And laundry-ing and ironing. And driving my cute car.

EC car

Taking stock of my gratitude is pretty easy these days. I am more protective over our domestic bliss and private joys than I have been in a long time, for reasons that are so lame I will not even give them air time here. Suffice it to say that no attack from the outside, whether professional or personal, social or downright spiritual, really matters so long as the home is healthy and strong. Kind of like the beehive, you know? So let’s tend our lives and our homes well. Stay healthy and strong, friends, and be happy.

EC women

Until we meet again, will you please give this idea some thought? Who are the women who have changed your life, really? I feel a big, juicy post coming on exactly this.

“How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.”
~Annie Dillard
XOXOXOXO

 

friday 5 at the farm: stormy day photos

Thursday brought some crazy weather to Oklahoma. A lightning quick (get it?) and rather violent storm hit the farm suddenly in the middle of the afternoon. The morning’s flannel grey skies turned black. The warm, humid air turned icy cold. And all those fallen oak leaves twirled upward in spirals and autumnal confetti bursts. Rain flooded the middle field in just moments and ran in a silver-white, frothing stream downhill. The pond churned like a tiny ocean. Our east facing barn doors were blown out, or maybe the horses broke them out? It’s hard to say.

fri5 rain c

fri5 chanta wet c

fri5 meh wet c

Then the storm passed as suddenly as it had arrived. The skies calmed. Half-hearted thunder and thread-thin cracks of lightning kept me watching the skies for a few more hours, but overall the farm was quiet. I returned the horses to their field, consoled the agitated llama, and texted photos of the barn doors to my husband.

By evening, the air was so sweet. Clean and sweet, rinsed out and blown through by the storm. Settled. Fog appeared between the trees and above the grass in cottony streaks, filling every dip and corner with opaque white. It was a stunning kind of quiet. I adore the way fog muffles everything, and I think evening fog is an especially nice gift.

fri5 klaus fog east c

Klaus played and romped around in the gentle dusk while I watched Handsome repair the barn doors. Then he (Klaus, not my husband) appeared from behind the giant hay bales, smelling like sage bush. I imagined he was a small, Spanish-speaking werewolf, which may in fact be the case.

When the farm is so drenched in magic like this I cannot fix my eyes on one thing. Neither my mind. I want to collect all the details and force them into some kind of permanence. Which is silly, of course, because a big part of magic is that it is fleeting, elusive. So instead I hope to at least remember how pink the eastern sky was as the moon rose and how the pine trees vibrated with fragrance. I hope to remember how hard my husband worked to fix the barn doors, at the end of an exhausting day at his real job. I hope to think about this storm, its suddenness, and how grateful I am that no animals were hurt.

fri5 fog c

Storms come and go, and everything is beautiful and weird.

XOXOXOXO

 

thursday morning magic

Somehow the morning sun is bolder, more gilded and alive, with the windows open. Or is it the time of year? This sneak peek of autumn? Wide, flat sheets of moving light slice across the wood floor and make floating bits of dust look like fairies. Magic. The early birdsong is definitely stronger. And I had forgotten how sweet the air can taste at this kinder temperature.

I passed by the upstairs hallway windows, the ones overlooking the middle field, and marveled at the thick prairie grasses and their diamond wet. Grey fog rolling upward off the pond in strong, thoughtful columns of energy. Water that normally has a reddish cast, this morning was a murky blue-grey, a werewolf shade in broad daylight.

Chanta was grazing just below these open windows. I could hear his gentle horse breath and the juicy chomp-crunch-swallow of his green breakfast. I wondered briefly what were my odds of injury if I were to pry off one of those window screens and jump down onto his broad, muscular back? I never made a sound, but I think he must heave heard my thoughts because he let out an extended snuffle and walked away, sharply to his right.

Now the Lone Ranger music is in my head and I need to go for a run. I need to taste the sweet air more deeply. Feel the brackish touch of sun and shade on my skin and let the dew splash high on my legs. As much as I love the brutally hot summertime, this cool morning is filled with magic and I love it. I won’t waste it.

pull magic

What magic are you pursuing today?

XOXOXOXO

 

deep summer

For nearly a week now, every time I sit down to a clean, wordless draft page I freeze and cannot construct even one sentence. My eyes get too wide and my mouth goes dry and I am tempted to just delete this blog completely. Instead I click over to Facebook or scan Feedly to see what other people are saying. Or I shut everything down and read a book. It’s not that I have writer’s block, whatever that is; it’s that there is just so much happening in my life right now, both the internal, unseen stuff and the vibrant, flesh and blood thrumming relationships and the dirt and hooves goings on of our farm, that I scarcely know where to start. Where to dive in. How to begin unraveling the messy, twisted, knotted pile of different colored yarns that make up my life lately.

Last weekend my baby girl turned eighteen. That is a wonderful, amazing thing, truly a gift, but because of our family circumstances right now I have no idea how to write about it, except to say that my heart bursts with pride and withers in pain and bursts and withers over and over again, daily. I wrote for her and about her a hundred or so times and deleted everything. But my gosh, you know, it’s not all about me, even though mine is the only story I can tell accurately and with full permission. We’ve been through that.

So not writing about that has kept me from writing about anything else. Nothing else is as important except for her sister, anyway, and by the way her life story is taking more fascinating turns every week. If a moment arises where I feel unprepared or unworthy, I have to stop and say thank you because nothing here is abnormal. It’s all I’ve been asking for for years.

This is where I have sometimes had to read my own messages again about worry and faith. Prayer and positive focus. No doubt in my ribs and belly, these messages are sent to me first, for me. I realize that sounds goofy.

The hours between 6 and 8 each evening are the most gilded, most stilling, of the day.
The hours between 6 and 8 each evening are the most gilded, most stilling, of the day.

Everyone around us is geared up for a new school year, posting photos of newly sprouted, suntanned children in crisp new clothes, parents either bemoaning the end of summer or celebrating a quiet house that can finally be cleaned in the daytime. Meanwhile I am working to keep the small veggie garden producing and the animals happy in the heat and humidity. I am paying better attention to the flower beds in anticipation of a our niece’s outdoor wedding here in just a few weeks. And I am running hot, early morning miles and swimming every chance I get. Here at the farm, summer isn’t over until the pool closes and I have to wear a jacket to run. From the looks of things, we have several weeks remaining. This is good.

Have I told you yet that we bid adieu to two llamas? Romulus returned to his original home with Dean and Maribeth (thank you, friends!) and has already adjusted well to his guard post there. Dulcinea has a new home with the cousin of our transport and hay farming friend Billy, and that new home has a pond which I know she must love. Dulcie is a swimmer. We miss them both of course, but the purpose of this change was to bring our two horses home to graze freely in the middle and back fields. Previously, the horses and llamas could not mix at all. Lots of violence. So this has been bittersweet but ultimately wonderful. The youngest of the three llamas, Meh, still lives here at the W, and he and the horses have adapted to each other splendidly. This is all very, very good news for lots of reasons.

Meh frequently seeks kisses from the pup but never quite connects.
Meh frequently seeks kisses from the pup but never quite connects. Pardon the manure you see there. Middle field clean up is on the agenda for Thursday.

Also on the happy animal-integration front, Klaus our new German Shepherd puppy is learning more every day about appropriate animal relationships. He shows measured restraint with the buffalo, unbridled passion with the barn cats, and a dangerous sort of are-you-or-aren’t-you-a-stuffed-toy? curiosity with the smallest chickens. Our days and evenings are infinitely more fun with Klaus here. My Facebook friends have been very kind, indulging me with love on every photo of him I post. He is one hundred percent the best farm dog in the history of farm dogs anywhere on this planet. And he is already almost too big to sit in my lap, but yesterday I did manage to teach him to drive a stick shift. The Jeep is plenty roomy enough.

We had so much fun! And afterwards he had the hiccups.
We had so much fun! And afterwards he had the hiccups.

Things are good. I am catching my breath emotionally, having just realized I’d been holding it for a while. And working and playing and carpeing every diem to the best of my ability. Sometimes this includes an afternoon siesta on the deck.

hay

Are you happy we are midway through August? What does that even look like in your life? August used to be so hectic, so blistering hot and uncomfortable, such a month of transition. I am looking around now, happy to see that actually it is a month full of more of all my favorite stuff. Some extra challenges. But mostly? Overwhelming peace and hope. And so many beautiful sunsets.

“Deep Summer is when laziness finds respectability.”
~Sam Keen
XOXOXO