Lazy W Marie

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

life after travel, garden thrills, & loving staycation

Home sweet home. After a week away, we are back at the farm and loving every minute of it, soaking up every detail. In fact, our front-gate landing in the wee hours of Saturday morning segued neatly into a week of stay-cation, a July tradition to celebrate our wedding anniversary. 

Seventeen years!

It’s good and healthy to be away, to break from routine and explore a new part of the world. Last week we had the opportunity to see Virginia for the first time, in large part to join my family for a really special family event. (More on that soon!)

Mom and Dad with our entire family, missing only three of the grand kids. Baby Connor was asleep and my two girls were back in Oklahoma.
group candids are hard

Then it’s so refreshing to get back and return to normalcy. Home comforts. Farm chores. Oklahoma heat and humidity, even. All of it. Mostly home-brewed coffee, you know? I mean I’m grateful for restaurants and coffee shops, but…

Nothing compares to waking up at 5 a.m. to walk around in a tee shirt and day-old makeup with the day’s first perfect cup of coffee. Surveying the gardens at daybreak, with that first hot drink, it’s my favorite. 

The relief of being home rarely has anything to do with being desperate to end the travel we have just enjoyed. In fact, sometimes the more beautiful the trip, the more fervently we dive back into real life. We are recharged, deeply nourished, and ready for more living.

I ought to write more about what specifically we glean from each trip we take. New Orleans, for example, is a vastly different experience form Virginia Beach, and so the bring-home wisdom and inspiration are totally different. I love it all.

sunrise on a Virginia beach
“Let’s go hiking. Can we hike? Le’ts go THERE.”
Jamestown settlement! We actually made it!

sunset on the way home

This recent homecoming gifted us with everything we needed. Lots of rest, plenty of Klaus cuddles, some time outside, some time with movies and popcorn. Romance. It is our anniversary, after all. We have enjoyed a few days of slow-paced home-bodiness, having left only for groceries and one dinner out with friends. And I think I have run at nearby paths three times.

Everything has exploded with life and color, texture, fragrance, and pollinators. The growing things are all so big and thick. Lush, although I use that word too often. We walk from the house to any flower or vegetable bed nearby and share the pathway with bees, wasps, butterflies, dragonflies, and bumbles. So far not one sting. Just lots of fly-bys. Yesterday I mixed up some simple syrup with essential oils to offer the bees. Such a thrill to peek inside the hives and see what progress they have made since spring.

One raised bed is filled to the brim with tomato vines. Jungly, unkempt, wild in the best ways. And not a problematic bug in sight. The vines are so thick and fuzzy that a smattering of marigolds and basil plants are barely seeing enough sunshine to grow properly. Ha! But they are trying.

Every morning since we arrived home I collect more green or pink tomatoes, all shapes and sizes, absolutely ugly-beautiful. Some are pale purple, which is cool. Heirlooms. And they ripen more quickly than I expected. The photo below was snapped on Sunday morning, and by Monday afternoon they were all ruby red. 

And delicious, I don’t mind telling you. Raw, just salted, is divine. I can’t wait for pasta night to make my own marinara. Maybe a sun-dried version too, soon? And tomato-watermelon salsa? Yes. A tomato tart!!

Quick tomato tip: This afternoon I accidentally broke off a good, healthy branch from one gigantic plant, but instead of tossing it to the compost I just stripped the lowest suckers and dunked the whole thing into a tall, strong jar of water.  In a few days, it should have sprouted hairy little side roots and be well on its way to a autonomy. Ready for soil. 

bumblebee on a zinnia in the Blue Bike garden xoxo
I’m obsessed with voluptuous hyacinth bean vines, and this one growing up and over the French Quarter trike is my fave. It is kind of a centerpiece for the shade garden, at least to me.

Basil plants elsewhere on the farm, the ones not choked out by tomatoes, are lush. (So sorry, it really is the perfect word.) I have lots of pesto recipes in mind for the rest of the month. Come over for dinner if you groove the spicy green goodness.

Tonight we get to see more friends for a few hours. The husbands are installing a much-anticipated Corvette engine. We plan to get some local Mexican food, which is great because last week I suffered some pretty outstanding food poisoning from a subpar taco salad out east. I cannot wait to have girl time with Kellie, too. She dives deep in conversation, and that’s one of many things I adore that about her.

Life is really beautiful right now, even with the unknowns, the lingering petitions. I am keenly aware of how drenched in blessings I am. So happy about our trip and even happier to be home, exactly where we are. 

More soon, I hope you’ll check in!

And feel free to send me alternates for the word lush so that I might describe my gardens with more variety. 

“Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,
be it ever so humble, 
there’s no place like home.”
~John Howard Payne
XOXOXOXO

 

 

six short stories on saturday night

#1: A few warm, sunny days this past week really got my heart going pitter-patter for springtime, however far away it might truly be. The hens are laying again, the honeybees have been buzzing around on fresh breezes, and my first seed order should arrive soon. I walk around the farm every day and still see lots of dry, sepia winter scenes, but in my mind’s eye, everything is verdant already and bursting with kaleidoscope color, vibrating with new life. As I type this paragraph we are bundled up in the warmest room of the house, debating the wisdom of hot coffee so close to sunset. Which is becoming later each day, I have to add. 

#2: Jessica spent the past few days with us at the farm, and she blended in so naturally. She has a way of making the gorgeous weather even more springlike. It felt like the old days, but better. On Friday she and I spent many hours together between the kitchen and the barn and the possibility-filled gardens, talking and laughing about everything old and new. She and Klaus became seriously good buddies. She and Handsome discussed car purchases and adult life. She and I (mostly she) produced a big batch of delicious soft pretzels plus a cozy family dinner of salmon cakes and all the good sides. We all watched a movie together and studied for her upcoming exam. This beautiful girl-now-a-woman has exciting plans and is brimming with all the best things about being twenty years old. We are just thrilled and grateful to be included in her life right now. Overnight, our weather turned frigid cold again, bringing us a grey and dull Saturday morning, but her presence in this house warmed it up. Her boyfriend joined us all for a late breakfast of waffles with all the trimmings, another meal which she made perfectly. We really enjoyed his company, too, and is there anything more fun than seeing your child in love? All of this beauty, and still bigger miracles are growing up around us. Things I will write about soon. 

Have you made these yet?

#3: I have for the second time cracked open A Return to Love by Marianne Williamson and am, well, in love with it all over again. Her preface gripped me this time as though she had written it, especially for Jocelyn. (Thank you for your continued prayers and the gentle stream of love notes, friends.) In a few weeks, I will join two wonderful girlfriends to listen to the author speak, a miniature book club reunion and really just time well spent with two stellar human beings, absorbing some magic together. 

When we were born, we were programmed perfectly. We had a natural tendency to focus on love. Our imaginations were creative and flourishing, and we knew how to use them. We were connected to a world much richer than the one we connect to now, a world full of enchantment and a sense of the miraculous.

#4: Have you winterized your salad bowl yet? If we cannot yet enjoy watermelon, let’s definitely feast on big, luxurious bowls of leafy greens topped with roasted vegetables and some protein. No dressing needed. Warm those bellies and keep them happy with complex carbs! This past week I met my sister Angela for lunch in a faraway place called “Oklahoma City, Northside” and we shamed ourselves at a magical salad bar. Have you heard of Salata? Oh man. 

#5: One of our local Hansons mentors posted this quote today, and it is perfect: “The genuine marathoner is a rare breed indeed, half athlete and half poet. Part rock-bottom pragmatist and part sky-high idealist. Completely, even defiantly individual and yet irrevocably joined to a select group almost tribal in its shared rituals and aspirations.” Fair warning, friends, if you check in here on Monday. I had a week of non-running and have lots to say. Many lessons to solidify!

#6: My husband’s new favorite dessert is kind of a surprise to me. It was a throw-together layered shortbread-and-ganache idea from a brownie mix I picked up at Aldi. Should I make it again for Valentine’s Day this week? Or should I make the very top secret thing I was already planning? Or should we have multiple desserts to finish off our traditional heart-shaped ribeye dinner? Like a small chocolate festival of our own? Okay, yes, that.

Stay cozy, friends! Read great books. Eat the best food you can find. Expect miracles and do not for one day give up hope. What if we did? Look what we would be missing already. And tomorrow hasn’t even happened yet.

“Never underestimate the power
that one good workout
will have on your mind.
Keeping the dream alive
is half the battle.”
~Kara Goucher
XOXOXOXO

 

after the full moon

Monday delivered another unseasonably cool August daybreak. Walking from the kitchen door across the south lawn, two steaming mugs of perfect coffee in hand, I first noticed the humidity and then alternating pockets of warm and cool air. My eyesight was still blurry and dreamlike, barely awake, so in those stumbly moments, the brackish air around me seemed to manifest blue and pink, puffy handfuls of varying temperatures. It was an illusion, I knew that, but a gorgeous one.

To my left, of course, the sky actually was colorful. Oklahoma sun rises are surpassed in kaleidoscope beauty only by Oklahoma sunsets. Monday was no exception. Blues, pinks, and oranges. Silver and gold.

Later that day, after an easy run and half a day’s work, I walked back through this same space, west this time, downhill toward the shade garden. The sky had lowered and turned a suede gray. Still humid, but the air was stirred up now, all blended into one smooth, mellow flavor. Birds called from every side the way they often do only at dawn. Tree frogs and locusts raised the volume.

Full moon singing.

I spent some time cutting back sunflowers that were damaged from weekend thunderstorms. Thinking the whole time about Jessica turning twenty, I gathered enough for a hefty bouquet, set aside lots of dried seedheads for next year’s garden, and donated the rest to the horses and chickens.

(Besides sunflowers, did you know our horses will also eat arugula? Weirdos.)

Klaus kept me company most of the time, but he was often distracted by Meh splashing in the pond or crickets burrowing in the soft earth. My loyal pup appeared at my side half a dozen times with a muddy snoot and spiky-wet legs, belly, and tail. Little-boy happiness pulsing off of him.

I continued on emptying the raised beds of weeds and bolted leafy greens.

It’s a wonderful full moon task, this garden clean up. Right now is the perfect time for culling dead things, releasing what is damaged, and then letting everything rest. Since Monday I have grabbed an hour or two here and there, cleaning flower beds and working over exhausted vegetable plots, trying to help the farm catch its breath at this special time of the moon phase. Soon we will get another deep drink of rain, and more August heat, so this rest will be put to good use for new growth.

Just like in life, you know?

Wednesday night we drove to nearby Harrah to purchase a few round bales of hay for the bachelors.

Klaus accompanied us and smiled literally the entire time. I swear he puts of a certain kind of heat from his abundant joy. He loves truck rides so much.

When we arrived back at the farm and pulled through the barn to unload, Chanta, Dusty, and Meh thundered uphill and found us pretty quickly. They nibbled at a hay bale that was still wedged in the truck bed while Handsome wrestled, rolled, shoved, and pulleyed the other three behemoths into the barn. (We will eventually invest in a tractor with a hay spike; until then, it’s my husband’s brute strength that keeps things happening around here.)

We later dropped that delicious contraband over near the bonfire pit and deck yard, beneath some oak trees. I walked-rolled the big aluminum hay ring across the farm to encircle the feast.

I love fresh hay. Fragrant, tender, all shades of grassy neutrals and some green threads too. I love massive, dense bales that seem to be concrete blocks wrapped up in a flaky layer of goodness. Being stocked up makes me deeply content.

Early this morning, we took another walk south with perfect coffee in hand. Our Hot Tub Summit ritual continues. The farm was half wet from gentle overnight rain. The clouds were dappled, this daybreak as colorful as Monday’s but much warmer. The horses were standing at the new bale of hay, beneath the oak trees, eating breakfast (which actually appeared to be the end of a midnight snack). Sunlight from the east stabbed right through the steamy darkness and landed on the scene, illuminating all of it. Chanta’s hindquarters especially were glowing. Dusty took a deep breath and folded his legs to lay down. His big head lowered until his chin touched the wet leaves, and he fell asleep. Just as the farm was waking up.

Happiest of Thursdays to you, friends!
XOXOXOXO

 

a much happier storm season blowing through us

When the farm has just emptied of kids, evidence is plenty. The deck, pool, and surrounding lawns are all festooned with brightly colored plastics: Water guns and leaky swim masks, half-inflated floats, sun-crunchy pirate beach towels, and orphaned flip flops and hair ties. They are all scattered like confetti across the calm, green expanse. We discover an empty juice box here and there, a chewed-to-nothing melon rind, a discarded (hopefully used up) bottle of sunblock.

The chairs and chaise lounges are all askew, abandoned and resting happily like exhausted chaperones after a late night middle school dance.

When we bought these nine acres in 2007, our dream and vision was to give our girls, then 10 and 12, a second half of childhood, a healthy, wholesome coming of age with lots of space for deep breathing and long-leg stretching, animals to love and learn from, and much more.

The seeds of that vision had barely germinated when some destructive life storms blew through our family and changed everything for a season. We hung on, everyone survived, and eventually the sun came out again, brighter than ever. But that’s another story for another day.

Now I sit outside soaking up the cheerful debris of a happier storm, one of so many like it, each one important. “Cousin-Palooza 2017” came and went in a flash, leaving in its wake all this color and all these good vibrations. I sit here taking note of how much love and joy have actually grown here in the midst of that other storm.

Despite it? Or because of it?

For all the years that storm took from our family, has it actually nourished our foundation?

I think so.

I think, I feel in my bones, that the culling and strengthening and the deep watering from both tears and sweat have all contributed to an ongoing beautification. Not just a bigger deck or prettier gardens, not just faster internet, better food and more artwork on the walls- although yes to all of that!

But really, more trusting hearts for my husband and me. Freer minds. Effervescent joy that is actually pretty difficult to flatten.

We are blessed beyond reason. Thankful for adult siblings who trust us with their children so we can share these nine acres in some of the ways we always imagined. Happy to cultivate memories and bonds with our nieces and nephews that, despite inevitable storms headed our way in the future (that’s just how life goes), will last a lifetime and anchor us all.

Chloe, Kenzie, & Greg. July 2017 xoxo
Daybreak in Fort City, upstairs in the Apartment. They slept hard for almost 7 hours then sprang awake at full power, ready for chocolate chip pancakes and more fun.
Little fishes doing tricks all day long.

I always resist the hurry to clean up after a party. I am in no hurry to see it all wiped away, all the colorful debris that kids especially leave behind.

Except that other good stuff is on its way, and we need to make room. Every day, every moment, holds a new promise and a host of surprises. The whole big, beautiful, equally colorful future is about to happen.

I’m ready.

XOXOXOXO

 

friday 5 at the farm: early summer joys

Friday already? Yes, it’s Friday! Wow. We just accomplished another full-to-bursting work week and are sliding fast and furious toward the weekend. I couldn’t be happier. Actually, Handsome and I were just reflecting on how these past couple of weeks have been particularly satisfying. Filled with all sorts of boxes checked, obstacles demolished, attitudes refreshed. Prayers answered, too, let’s not forget that. We sure can’t take all the credit for being in a place of peace and contentment. Thankfully, the goodness around us far exceeds what we are capable of drumming up ourselves.

Real quick, how about a Friday 5 at the Farm?

Here are some things bringing me total and utter joy this week.

#1: Baby chicks are growing! Mama Hen and her little flock of six are happy and energetic. We love them.

#2: Some foot TLC, including new stretches and a topical anti-inflammatory. After a break that felt much longer than 3 days, I finally logged 8.2 glorious, humid miles between Thursday evening and Friday morning and am super grateful to be back at it.

#3: Homegrown salads! Every big bowl is layered with a variety of lettuces and greens, raw veggies, and farm fresh eggs. I could live on this meal. Actually, I kind of do.

#4: This overflowing trough garden and our new flat deck make me happy every single day. In the early morning hours, the light is lavender and pink and the birdsong is orchestral. By midday the dragonflies are buzzing low and I crave my best lawn chair and a good book for soaking up the sun in privacy. Early evening brings cooler temperatures and lacy shadows from those oak trees. And if we are lucky enough to step outside at night, we are rewarded with velvet black, diamond-crusted skies and lots of frog song. At any hour, I love to brush my hand across the globe basil planted here and bring the fragrance with me. Even my husband notices.

#5: An evening at Vacation Bible School with our Jedi OKC friends! Man that was fun. So many happy kids and so many stellar people making good things happen for them.

 

And with that, we are off to the next chapter. What daily gifts have brought you loads of utter and complete joy this week?

Carpe those diems, friends, they are rare and beautiful.

“I promise if you keep searching for everything
rare and beautiful in this world,
eventually you will become it.”
~T.K. White
XOXOXOXO