Lazy W Marie

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

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more new than ever before

I find myself wondering whether this springtime is among the most luscious of all my life or my eyes and heart are simply more open than ever before. Everything feels new, but more than new; everything has a wet, trembling quality, and it feels like more than just the abundance of rainfall.

When seeds germinate and break through the topsoil lately, they seem to do so with music playing. When the chicks run across their flight pen, they return the other direction a full size bigger. And have you heard the news that one of our young hens has learned to quack, no doubt by living with two ducks? The skies are probably the same colors as before, but more crystalline, more kinetic. The pine trees are growing arms and fingers and reaching for brand new ideas, learning new languages I think. Walking around the farm, you can smell fresh energy like it’s incense or very good cookies and bread baking.

Old thought patterns are falling apart like charred wood, burned (I believe) by truth. And I can leave them where they fall or sweep them up and replace them with better thoughts, stronger ones, more loving ones, more exciting ideas about life and God and all of our complex human relationships. Fear is almost fully edged out now, and the Worry Door has not cracked open in so long.

A new friend recently loaned me her treasured paperback copy of Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller. Somehow this author had been completely foreign to me, and now I want time to stop so I can gobble up all of his work, because his term “Christian spirituality” is right on target for my life. Here are a couple of passages that have struck me beautifully this past week:

I believe the greatest trick of the devil is not to get us into some sort of evil but rather to have us wasting time. This is why the devil tries so hard to get Christians to be religious. If he can sink a man’s mind into habit, he will prevent his heart from engaging God.”

I love that. And it speaks straight to me, because I am such a creature of habit. I thrive on not only physical daily routines but also meditative practices, which certainly have value. But when little interruptions ruffle my feathers or when I am so cemented in habits that I am wasting time, it all has a kind of soundproofing effect between God and me. Don’t get me started on excessive volunteering or millions of obligatory social connections.

Okay, and then this:

Passion is tricky, though. because it can point to nothing as easily as it points to something.

Somewhere around that sentence in the book, Miller describes his thought process around what he would die for and what he is living for. It’s all kind of the front burner for me now. The moments when we might be asked to die for someone or something may come rarely, if ever, but every hour of every day we are actively or passively exchanging both our time and our life force, our God given human energy for something else. We give ourselves away in pieces, big and small, over and over again, and I wonder how many of those transactions are beneath us, how much of it is waste. A lot, you know? Maybe unintentionally? But so very much is exchanged for good, too, for strong, solid, worthwhile purposes. We trade our time and energy and human life force for love of family and friends, for personal passions that are linked directly to some aspect of our creation that leads us right back to God. How thrilling to see that our intrinsic passions can be connections to God and thereby pipelines for more abundant life. I love that we are all created in such unique ways and that He can draw us near and put us to work based on our passions. I want to find more ways to facilitate exactly that.

So. The farm. All of these nine acres are pure joy to me. The creatures who live here, even when they frustrate me, the plants, the wildness, the work and creativity, our romance and our human fabric, all of it. It has become my home and sanctuary, classroom and temple. And for all of the physical, sensory pleasures here, I know in my bones that the real magic is unseen. The real magic and power and drama can easily be extracted and reinvested elsewhere, should that time ever come. This is just the stage.

This is how I know the shimmer and pulse of our current season is owed to more than the mild Oklahoma springtime; God is doing something here with us that brings it all into focus for me. The old fears and worries are burned up and crumbling; worldly distractions are falling back and losing their noisy power in favor of birdsong in the morning and frog symphonies at night. More beauty than I have ever seen is front and center, both for the physical senses and for that part of me that can’t find the words. Hope, joy, belief in the power of Love, compassion for the weird things we all need and chase, patience, silliness, healing. Lots of healing. So much more.

I’ll take the flowers and the vegetables and even the snakes. I’ll take the skies changing and the air tasting like candy, as temporary as it all is. They are outward proof of an unseen Power. For me, this is something worth living for, day after day. Our lives are filled with more goodness than we can manage, despite our efforts to soak it in. And the shifting details just press me to live attentively, to find balance in movement too. It’s all constantly changing and never-ending. Such magic!

Thank you for introducing me to Donald Miller, Stefanie. My mind is churning from it all. Happy weekend, friends. I wish you magic and Love and clear vision.

“You have found the life underneath your life situation.”
~Eckhart Tolle, The Power of Now
XOXOXOXO

an unexpected step towards Chunk-Hi’s wildflower meadow

I have a story to tell you, but as usual, I do not know where it begins, so I’ll start at the end and hop around in the middle for a while and see what happens.

Yesterday Handsome and I enjoyed some rainy-Saturday exploring around town that culminated in stopping at a moving sale just a mile from our farm. We met and became happily acquainted with the property owner, who is not only a collector of cool found objects (my husband kinda wanted some of the Pontiac and shop storage treasures), but also an avid gardener and beekeeper. He gave us a tour of their huge plastic-wrapped hoop house and spoke freely of their two bee colonies.

Were Mike (his name is Mike) and his wife not preparing to relocate to Houston to enjoy full time grand-parent-hood, I suspect we could have become good friends. Or at least good neighbors with lots of hobbies in common. I could have stayed in that bright, humid hoop house for hours, talking about native perennials and natural beekeeping and who knows what else. In the hoop house, while it rained harder and harder outside, he spooned up some volunteer echinaceas, straight form the gravelly floor. You should have seen the wild onion gone to seed, it had to be four feet tall, and snapdragons nearly the same size! Strawberries and mums and kale growing everywhere.

Ok, that’s not the story, but now you have met “Mike.” I bought from his sale a large, heavy, rusted wire basket (it is going to become a fun Easter centerpiece), and he generously gifted me the echinacea starts. Also, some seeds. This brings me, finally, to the story.

In the midst of casual conversation, my husband mentioned where we live (just a mile over), and Mike actually knew our place. As so many people have over the years, he remembered us because of Chunk-Hi the Lazy W bison. Mike said he used to drive past all the time just to see what the buffalo was up to, and eventually he asked us what ever happened to him. As we started talking about Chunk, my nose stung and my eyes watered. This happens from time to time, that someone remembers Chunk but never heard the full story of how he came to live with us and where is he now. Lots of people have seen him or read about him but never met him up close and personal. Still, people seem to feel this familiarity with him. It always hits me in different ways.

We learned that Mike had just retired from a job that occasionally put him in the position to entertain overseas colleagues. Visitors from Bangladesh, the Philippines, and other far away places would travel to Oklahoma, and Mike would drive them past our farm to see the beautiful, tame buffalo exploring freely in natural prairie grass and sand wallows.

This unexpected conversation gave us the opportunity to share a few happy facts and memories about our big sweet boy, and though often this type of exchange is more bitter than sweet, somehow yesterday it felt really good, really sweet.

I love the idea of Chunk’s massive, shaggy head and shoulders, his skinny hips, and his butterfly eyelashes being seen and admired by people from around the globe. I loved the notion of our gentle giant being not only our home state’s mascot but also our little countryside’s goodwill ambassador. No matter that none of us knew it at the time. We did saw him trade love and joy with dozens of people over the years. And we can easily summon those memories for each other.

Mike included in his recounting the fact that our front gate was always closed, or else he might have at any of those visits driven up our driveway to meet us and meet the buffalo, our baby.

So. The wildflower seeds.

As we continued some friendly price negotiations over other estate sale treasures, the three of us traded beekeeping best practices (such a fun topic when people are happy to share with each other, not necessarily inform), which naturally led to talk of flowers and bee foraging. I said that we were in the process of turning the front field where Chunk had lived into a wildflower meadow. Maybe my voice cracked. I saw my husband’s head drop just a bit and realized our nostalgia levels were reaching capacity. Mike turned silently away from our small group, disappearing into an office adjacent to his shop, then reemerged with two heavy bags of wildflower seeds. He handed them to me and asked if I would grow them for the buffalo. I accepted the bags and begged to pay him, but he insisted we take them. “No, just grow them in his memory.”

So. Our inspiration all these months to build a true prairie style meadow, and the slow but stunning progress of nature just beginning to take over the hot, sandy front field (the wild stuff is beautiful right now), are being brought along with this perfect gift from a stranger and instant friend. Someone who loved Chunk from a distance has gifted us up close and personal with seeds for the future. Literally, seeds.

We miss you, Chunk-Hi, our innocent and strong Ambassador of Free Spirit and Good Will. You were magical! You were loved by people everywhere, and your meadow is about to be exceptionally beautiful because of the connections you continue to help us make.

The End.

Or, the beginning of Chunk-Hi’s Memorial Wildflower Meadow.

Thank you, Mike!

“Until one has loved an animal,
a part of one’s soul remains unawakened.”
~Anatole France
XOXOXOXO

thursday thoughts (ramblings, whatever)

Nearly halfway through March (my favorite month) and fast approaching the Spring Equinox (coupled with a full moon!), my sentences are forming with an extra dose of Adam Sandler’s Excited Southerner. If I can get through this blog post with decent spelling and at least the fragrance of a coherent message, I will consider it a win. A big one. I hope you will too.

The thing is, the gardens are happening. They are mostly indoors still, on grow trays and beneath heavy all-day mists and grow lights, but a few bits of chlorophyll have found their way to the actual beds. And I can scarcely catch my breath sometimes.

Have you ever wondered whether Eminem and Eckart Tolle are the same person? Have you considered this possibility? Have you ever seen these men in the same place, at the same time? That’s what I thought. Lose Yourself and The Power of Now and all. Okay. I spent four and a half miles analyzing their similarities the other day, and I can debate this.

I am particularly fond of the following spontaneous breakfast. Among so many great meals recently, this one was a winner:

Kodiak waffle, crunchy peanut butter, habanero jelly. YES.

Our llama was screaming the other night. Screaming the way only llamas can, in that trilling, other-worldly, toxic-femininity tone that he has even though he’s a very territorial boy and only a wee bit toxic. Our neighbors heard the screaming and thought we were in distress. They messaged us with such sweet concern. We laughed so hard. The reason Meh was screaming, in case you need to know, was probably the 65 mph wind gusts for which he was holding the horses responsible. He is a loving creature but not a rational one.

Do you know the difference between a farm kitchen’s “chicken bowl” and the “garden compost” bucket? Do you care to know?

Our baby chicks and ducklings are growing like I have never seen before. Rick Astlee (not pictured, but I promise you ok) is especially monstrous. They empty their multiple food and water jars three to four times per day. And they are really loving human cuddles. Pacino (also not pictured), most of the time, is fine with it all. Their constant gentle “peep-peep-peeping” sounds enough like his long-established kissing sound that he probably thinks they are asking for kisses. He asks them, do they wanna wanna wanna kiss, and they peep again. So it’s symbiotic.

This is Muddles, my parents’ adorbs dog. She is the sweetest but I am ever so slightly worried that my Dad loves her more than me. It’s fine. It’s fine, right? I lived here first, Muddles. You weren’t even born yet when I lived here.

Have you watched any of the Netflix special One Strange Rock yet? Oh man. It is so fascinating, so soothing to listen to, and what truly breathtaking photography. We binged it recently and cannot recommend it highly enough. The overview effect as shared by all the astronauts is exactly what we needed to adjust our perspective and feel a wide, heavy quilt of connectedness. Perfect.

Savory Spice Shop on Western wins again!! I popped in for a couple of refills and to greedily accept my birthday freebie, and the nice ladies suggested this Bohemian Forest spice. Delicious! I added it to half of a roasted sweet potato and some asparagus, and I slow roasted some chicken breasts with it too. So nice and earthy and herbal. Yum. Also, it’s sourdough time again! That’s the jar in the background there. It is almost ready and the weekends are about to get really satisfying.

Ok. How was my grammar? Spelling? General coherence? I had to take lots of deep breaths. The sun is down now and we are one day closer to the weekend, to the new season, to more LIFE. Thank you so much for checking in!!

“Focus is the new IQ.”
(Dammit.)
XOXOXOXO

humpday headlines

Hello and happy Wednesday!! Life at the W is clicking right long, and I have a handful of thoughts to share in case you are cuddled up and in the mood to read. This blog post will be like my favorite outfits: Nothing matches, but it all feels right.

001 My friend Christina at Little Sprouts Learning is a genius. This past week she shared a natural solution for repelling the dreaded squash bugs: white radishes! Also this week I was reminded that starting a squash crop earlier than usual can give the vines a jump on their enemies’ life cycles. This strategy is simple, and it could give a bigger overall yield for the summer; we just have to have some late frost protection plans in our back pockets.

squash bugs… the bane of my garden existence… (2014)

002 Next week is Mardi Gras, and depending on how social plans shake out I might bake our King Cake this weekend. Rather than pull ideas from the internet, I decided to lean comfortably on a recipe from a little book I snagged a few years ago in the actual French Quarter, at my favorite used book store. King Cake is lot more like a yeast bread than cake, which means it might scratch this sourdough craving I can’t kick. Also? I am a lot better at baking bread than cake, as the following photo demonstrates:

003 Is it watermelon season yet? If not, can everyone please stop posting watermelon photos online? And can the grocery stores please stop selling cubes of the red fruit in plastic boxes for one million dollars, even though they probably taste like chewy tap water? Ok cool. On a happier note, I have ordered some fancy watermelon seeds for a new patch this year, wahoo!!

3 cheers for free shipping!

004 I want you to come see some improvements we are making to the farm! One visual treat is the east exterior side of the big barn, the side you see just as you pull your car up and around the gravel driveway:

It’s a happy work in progress, and I love it! The mural, hand painted by my favorite white collar-hobby farming-renaissance man, has been here a while, but we recently added that red “W” up top and have started rearranging a collection of miscellaneous signs, hubcaps, and license plates. Soon, those two plastic trough planters will be overflowing with sunflowers, cosmos, and maybe hollyhocks and trailing SPV, and the ground below will be crawling with fruit. This is where I’ll grow watermelons and a pumpkin patch this year. My thinking is that, compared to the front field, this area between the house and the horses gets a lot more daily foot traffic, so the deer are less likely to sneak in and rob us and I am less likely to forget to do the weeding and watering. Bam.

005 My husband started a Keto diet on January second, and I have a lot of feelings about it, ha. Since March is “National Nutrition Month,” I will save my thoughts for a post then. Until then, light a candle for me. (I am kidding, it’s fine. But seriously. Send haaaaalllp.)

006 Unrelated, or perhaps very related, I have continued on the fitness path of trading lots of miles each week for lifting (baby) weights), and I feel surprisingly great. It’s funny how you have to convince yourself that running less is totally allowed. I am ever so slowly shedding some fat and feeling stronger and leaner, head to toe. What’s even more exciting is that my aerobic fitness is improving, too. I grab faster intervals when I decide to, run more consistent tempo workouts, and finish virtually every run with energy to spare. Zero plantar pain and better endurance, both very good side effects. The slow, slight fat loss is just a bonus so far. I attribute healthier, happier feet to building stronger hips and lower abs. This makes all the difference to mileage goals, for me: Should I eventually commit to a marathon, I could not increase volume much with blistered heels and and screaming plantar. So, for the foreseeable future, baby weights a few times per week will stay in rotation with those glorious, refreshing miles. This has all been really good mental conditioning, too, this constant sense of missing out on how all my running friends are preparing. (Boston and OKC races are right around the corner!)

007 Winter is making a few unwelcome encores around here, but it’s still February, after all, and even an early spring should not be expected until sometime in March. We consciously grab hold of and enjoy every warm, gorgeous afternoon with which we are gifted, and we try to make really good use of the cold, grey days in between, complaining as little as our worn out, heat-loving spirits will allow. Soon enough, as last weekend demonstrated, we will be outside working so long and so exhaustively that this hibernation season will seem far off again and quite foreign. (February always seems so bizarre while we are in it and so far away once we escape. And it’s so short! Weird.) Oh, and how’s this for God having a sense of humor? This morning as we listened to another bitter cold weather forecast and tried to guess its duration, I flipped open my devotional and read this scripture from Acts 1:7, “It is not for you to know the times or the seasons, which the Father hath put in His own power.” Ha! OK, ok, I get it. We can do zero to affect the weather, and there are greater things at play here. So we might as well just smile and make the most of it!

008 It’s Pisces season, okay? Spring is just so close. Let’s embrace a little magic and fluidity, and let’s welcome our intuition to the fling. What fling? The spring fling, of course.

Despite all the intensity of Pisces season, it’s also one of the most romantic and glamorous times of the year.

mindbodygreen

009 Please go read my friend Katie’s blog update on her garden. She and her husband work together in their Oklahoma City backyard to cultivate a space for flowers, culinary wealth, artwork, chickens and fresh eggs, grandchildren, and gobs of romance. They sound a lot like us, minus the grandchildren, ha! And we hope to accept their sweet dinner invitation soon!

010 What if the entire shade garden could be a spacious, concentric salad garden? All lettuces and kales, radishes, maybe some peas and… What else? Nasturtiums? Pansies? Cabbage! I want lots of food here to mix with the perennial coral bells, azaleas, and hydrangeas. The last couple of summers I accidentally grew too many tall sun lovers near the edge, so they not only visually blocked most of the expanse; they also leaned over dramatically to find the light. It was fun for a while, but it made mowing weird. And it eventually was just… confusing.

011 Have you read the Eckhart Tolle book, The Power of Now? My sister Ang recommended it to me, and I crave some discussion. So good. And much needed in my life. Thanks lady!!

That is it for my headline collection today, unless perhaps you are into discussing pregnancy scares for women in their mid forties? No? Ok, carry on. Have the loveliest evening possible! And don’t hate the cold too much. It really is almost over. Remember we are counting it all joy!! All of it!

“Even when the sky is heavily overcast,
the sun hasn’t disappeared.
It’s still there on the other side of the clouds.”
~Eckhart Tolle
XOXOXOXO

Everybody, Always by Bob Goff (book review & some encouragement)

Oh friends, have you read this book yet? Or do you follow the author anywhere online? He offers plenty of encouraging, challenging stuff in highly digestible format, on Instagram for example. In fact, I think that Bob Goff once wrote a study series for the You Version Bible app, which is what put him on my radar, long before I knew about his books. Love Does is next for me to read, though it was first for him to write. Okay. I have been meaning to talk to you about this for several weeks. My friend Kellie and I read it at the same time, just after Christmas, and now every time we see each other, at least one of us makes an excited reference to something in the book. Our husbands haven’t read it yet, but after so many weeks of summary and discussion they have a pretty good idea of its contents.

There’s a whole funny story about this moment that will probably lose all its humor in translation so just trust me here.

The book is just 223 pages long and divided into 23 stand-alone chapters that read more like parables from the author’s own life. Sometimes the stories connect, as is bound to happen when they are true; but as Kellie once noted, you can drop in and read a chapter here and there, sporadically and not necessarily in order, and still glean plenty of richness, without losing any sense of continuity. It’s neither a serious nor a studious book, though I took lots of notes and highlighted with abandon. Goff’s style (oh heck let’s be on a first name basis with the guy… I am pretty sure he wants it this way…) Bob’s style is folksy, affable, and casual, though he is highly educated and worldly enough. He refers to characters in is life over and over again as his friends, so much so that by the end of the book I was wondering how he qualifies that word.

Is it a Christianity book, or a spirituality book? I would say without a doubt, that Everybody Always is written with a Christian teaching but is approachable enough for readers from any discipline. It’s not so much about declaring right and wrong as it is about inclusion. About embracing and showing love to, well, everybody you see, all of the time. Bob presses us with bear-hugs into God’s extravagant grace (page viii) and powerful Love, and he shows us through his own life experiences how Jesus is Love and how Love is a verb and how all people in the whole world need and deserve it, no matter what. Kind of the opposite of tribalism, unless you are of the mind the entire human race is one big tribe.

One of my favorite themes from Everybody, Always is the recurring phrase, “People who are becoming Love…” Bob uses this to illustrate all kinds of messages. He starts one sentence after another with these words and finishes with examples of how humans can make meaningful efforts for transformation, for generosity, for greater openness. And it got me to relax deeply. It takes the pressure off, that old expectation for absolutes, that we are either good or evil, all at once; and it affirms the opportunities we all have for being, sort of, “in process.” I really, really groove that. Bob never lowers standards for Christian excellence or for good, basic human citizenship; he just acknowledges that some changes, especially the permanent kind, are gradual. Becoming Love. How beautiful. Here are just a few such turns of phrase…

People who are becoming love experience the same uncertainties we all do. They just stop letting fear call all the shots.

People who are becoming love want to build kingdoms, not castles. They fill their lives with people who don’t look like them or act like them or even believe the same things as them. They treat them with love and respect and are more eager to learn form them than presume they have something to teach.

People who are becoming love are with those who are hurting and help them get home.

Let’s spend some of our abundant energy on spiritual evolution and on growth, and let’s abandon the weird need to be perfect, both for ourselves and for each other. Let’s see our shortcomings, remember that God meets us there, and chase after solutions with Love.

So many anecdotes stand out to me, all these weeks later.

One is the chapter about Carol, the neighbor for whom Bob and his family threw an actual parade that became a . She was also at the heart of a fantastic walkie-talkie story. Carol made a brief appearance in the book but made a deep impact on me. The same must have been true for the Goff crew, that Carol was only in their life for a short time but in their hearts forever: “We found ourselves in the blast radius of her stunning love and kindness.” Wow.

And then there was the airport terminal employee who was so loving to all strangers and passersby and with whom Bob learned to cultivate a friendship in a series of just three minute interactions. Kellie and I had a lot to exchange about this!

Bob’s dad and the pickup truck that needed oil and then the homeless man who slept in it. Such a layered parable!! I cannot tell it better than the author does.

The witch doctors. Man. If you read this book (please do) and have the heart to discuss, I would really like to hear your thoughts on how this particular story goes.

Handsome and I, together with Kellie and her husband Mickey, have been working privately on some exciting projects these past several months. Along the way we have socialized and eaten dozens of amazing meals together, talking deeply with each other about things God has brought to our attention. Some of it has been difficult. Most of it has been unbelievably beautiful. We have prayed deeply with and for each other and our loved ones. We have enjoyed some clear and vibrant direction from God along the way, too, in addition to innumerable answers and unexpected refinement.

This is our tiny little, happy, adventurous, loving, miracle seeking church.

We are trying, in our own ways, to build a little community. And after reading The Book of Joy mid-winter, then watching The Kindness Diaries, this book’s appearance was well timed. This sentence soaked into my bones regarding our tiny little community:

Our friends do things like this for us. They help us see the life Jesus talked about while giving it to us in smaller pieces- sometimes just a teaspoonful at a time.

The book is not only about human relationships, either. Everybody Always also points the reader continuously back to God, over and over again back to the true source of Love and grace. Extravagant grace, let’s remember. And it edges out our human tendency for punitive judgement. “Shame makes us leave safe places. It mutes our life and our love. It’s the pickpocket of our confidence.”

Something new in my faith walk this year has been flexibility and trust, on a daily basis, not only with the mammoth, sometimes abstract feats. I have felt God urging me to relinquish control over comfortable routines and lean into the tiny unknowns with more joy, like He wants me to be open to surprises. Toward the end of the book, a chapter about climbing Mount Kilimanjaro really spoke to me. And the messages were all linked intimately back to my many visits to Colorado with Jocelyn. I will never forget climbing those Estes Park mountains and scrambling up giant rocks as she gave me verbal cues and as we both gulped in nature’s beauty. “When you’ve got a guide you can trust, you don’t have to worry about the path you’re on.” And this… “We’re all going to trip as we try to follow Him through the difficult terrain of our lives. But when we do, we’ll bump into Him all over again. Faith isn’t a business trip walked on a sidewalk; it’s an adventure worked out on a steep and often difficult trail.” Yes!!

She cut wild sage for me before I left for home on that first trip, and I still have it. xoxoxo

Ok I am gonna wrap this up. I hope this has sparked your appetite to read Everybody, Always. If you do, or if you already have, please send me a note with your thoughts! Or comment below! It is all such great food for discussion. Thanks so much for reading this alongside me, Kellie, I love you!!

“When joy is a habit,
Love is a reflex.”
~Bob Goff
XOXOXOXO