This morning after the men left for work, I fed the animals, did a round of early chores, and made sure there was plenty of food for cooking later (there always is). Then, temporarily ignoring a long list of more important things that really are not more important, I laced up and swam through the thick, low-hung fog to grab a few miles.

Just as Handsome and I had noticed earlier this morning during Hot Tub Summit, everything outdoors was amplified in the fog. Louder, stronger smelling, brighter, crisper, yet diffused. Absolutely magical. So, while running I did my best to memorize the details (sans notebook) and am now sharing them as a Senses Inventory. Hope you enjoy!

See:  Prairie grasses bent and blackened from the damp. Well worn foot path curving ahead of me, slightly uphill, between fallen limbs. Our house and barn both ghosted in the distance. Geese bathing excitedly in the pond. Dulcinea (baby llama) watching me from the field-dividing green gate.

Hear:  Geese honking softly and splashing in the water. A neighbor’s donkey braying and a different neighbor’s hound dog howling. A diesel pickup truck coming to life. Really good music in my ears: Today was FUN and Big Bad Voo Doo Daddy.

Touch:  Feet pounding the soft wet sand, laces just the right amount of extremely tight. Legs warm and throbbing. Belly empty, cavernous feeling. Sweat drying everywhere on my skin, cold breeze on warm muscles. For the first time in what seems like forever, my hair is plastered against my face and neck. It is wonderful. Heavy, cold moisture on the fronts of my eyeballs.

Smell:  Rain. Wet earth. That intoxicating, peaty, mossy, rich, clean perfume… Crisp pine greens and spicy cedar aromas. Decaying leaves. My own saltiness. I can smell springtime yearning for us just like we yearn for her.

Taste:  A trace of cinnamony snickerdoodle milk and coffee from breakfast. Sweet and creamy, so good. And salt when I lick the corner of my mouth.

Feel: I feel deeply excited for our future, for our parents and children, for our friends. I feel a sense of overcoming right around the corner. I feel inspired and capable, less conflicted than I have felt in months. Maybe years. Steady.

Think:  I am almost always thinking of my girls, especially right now. I am also thinking of my friend Marci and her beautiful little family. I am thinking of my Mom and all the hearts she juggles and tends to, including her own. I am thinking of our good friends Jon and Margi, of book reviews I can’t wait to share, and of a book I want to write myself. I have a lunch date in about an hour; so I’m wondering if she would notice that I just air dry this sweat, and skip a shower?

Do you practice Senses Inventories? I would love a glimpse of your day. It is so calming to deliberately notice and articulate the seen and unseen details of your life, just for a moment. It’s really helpful to get you out of worry and into appreciation, too.

I’ll consider it a personal favor if here in the comments you share any part of your senses with us. Thank you so much for reading!

Very little grows on jagged rock. Be ground. Be crumbled, so wildflowers will come up where you are.

~Rumi

XOXOXOXO

The year was 2004. The city was Playa del Carmen, Mexico. Handsome and I were there to celebrate our wedding anniversary, and quite against my will I was being seduced and absorbed by another man.

Ted Bundy. Yes, that Ted Bundy. The serial killer.

I’m not proud of this. But neither am I terribly ashamed.

I am sharing this with you fine people for two reasons. First, because Mama Kat http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/, in all of her infinite wisdom, has asked us to dig deep into our histories, ten years deep to be exact. She has asked us to share a photo of ourselves from 2004 and compare it to ourselves now.

I am also sharing this with you fine people because this photo represents a rather sore spot in my otherwise dazzling love story with Handsome. A tiny little fly in the ointment, I’ll admit, although good grief I have laughed so hard about it over the years! So telling this story publicly needs to happen. The healing needs to begin.

I’ll tell you how much the healing needs to begin: While typing this story I asked my sweet guy to verify the name of the city in Mexico where all of this took place, and his eyes flamed. He even stopped playing his video game.  “You don’t even remember?! You were so caught up with what’s-his-name that you can’t even remember the name of the city we were in??” Then he shook his head too forcefully and went back to his video game. “Playa del Carmen,” he mumbled, “you should know that.”

Once again, I laughed so hard. You have to understand how rarely my husband gets jealous. It’s a rare romantic gift that delights me, and I realize that is horrible.

Back to Summer 2004.

Handsome and I were leaving Oklahoma City, just the two of us, to seek the hot sands and tranquil waters of the Gulf of Mexico. We were so excited, and with good reason. I mean, when does a married couple not need a trip alone to anywhere beachy? I know.

Before driving to Dallas for our overnight wait, we stopped at the grocery store for road trip snacks and at the library for books.

Allow me to repeat: We both checked out books for pleasure reading during our trip. Neither of us disputes this fact, but also neither of us can remember any of the other books we borrowed from the Metropolitan Library System. Just the Ted Bundy story stands out in our pained collective memory.

So we drove cheerily south to our Dallas hotel, no doubt flirting with each other and jamming out to really good early 90’s rap all the way. It’s kind of our go-to road trip music. I don’t remember exactly when I would have first pried open that paperback book by Ann Rule, but by Dallas I was hooked. Perhaps you can see the seriousness on my face in the photo above, taken by my already frustrated husband of just three years. Perhaps you can see I didn’t even bother to unpack anything before crashing with this stranger.

Perhaps you agree my forehead is too shiny.

I should point out that this was long before I had a blog for recording my book reviews. I didn’t even know at that time that normal people were allowed to write book reviews. Didn’t you need a Presidential pardon? Or to be knighted by the Queen? No such plans for me. I was very simply enthralled by an excellent story and glued to its pages. My husband grew less and less amused by my amusement.

Apparently the deeper I fell down the morbid, twisted rabbit hole that was the story of Ted Bundy’s 1970’s wickedness, the more difficulty Handsome had in getting my attention. He claims that by the time we reached Mexico he had to say my name three or four times to break my hypnotic gaze, and getting me to go anywhere without that paperback appendage was impossible. Including to the elegant pineapple-and-espresso breakfast spread at our resort. Including to the pristine white beach with no children. Including to our vacation bed.

He exaggerates. It’s really embarrassing.

Anyway. This book was incredible. It was written from the perspective of a young woman who actually kn…

Wait, I’m slipping down the T.B. rabbit hole again. Sorry. Suffice it to say that I wasn’t avoiding my wonderful husband; I was having a great time with him in Mexico! I was just also deeply, widely, thoroughly fascinated by the ed-Tay undy-Bay story. (I try not to say his name too often. It’s… provoking.)

All told, we were in Mexico for almost a week, and if my sweet, lonely husband’s version of the truth can be trusted, it was halfway through that week before I would swim in the ocean or dine with him making full eye contact, undistracted by you-know-who. I feel a little bad about that. What I do not feel bad about is becoming fully educated on the dangerous wiles of a serial killer and simultaneously being absorbed by the story telling prowess of a woman who, somehow, survived him.

Rabbit hole!

So that’s the story of my tryst with Ted Bundy. How am I different ten years later?

Ironically, I read far more now than I did then. But never, I mean almost never, at the beach with my husband, and also never at dinner. In fact  to this day I am reluctant to bring a book on any trip with my long suffering husband, lest it should prove to be as wickedly fascinating and distracting as that. Fat chance, but still.

Be better than me, friends. Pay attention to your man on vacation and read on the side.

And if you know Handsome in 3-D, I double dog dare you to strike up a conversation with him about the Lady Killer.

XOXOXOXO

We are in a waxing moon, friends. In fact, here in this little corner of paradise, we enjoyed a true New Moon on the first day of the New Year, and in my book that is pretty special. Magical, even. A waxing moon implies a swell of energy, a deep inclination toward fertility and life, freshness at every turn. Construction. Reaching up and out. Germination. Adding to Life. How perfect, as we embark on this crisp white 2014 calendar with new visions and goals, to enjoy a natural bend of energy like this. I love it.

As the year progresses and the seasons warm, the waxing moon phases will offer more obvious opportunities, especially in the garden. Any quick scan of the nearest almanac will give you list after list of ideal tasks you can perform at certain times of the month. I am all over that. But how about right now? And how about in  other areas of life, besides the garden? (Never mind. LOL The garden is all I care about. *wink*)

I have been paying attention to my personal energy levels for almost a year, taking good notes from month to month of when my creativity ebbs and flows, when I feel more contemplative and withdrawn, or when I am boiling over with grand ideas and motivation to get out of the house and do big things. No surprise, for me at least, that all of this coincides neatly with the moon. Almost perfectly, my natural access to fertile energy (building, giving, creating) happens during the two weeks that the moon is waxing full. Then, again almost perfectly, my systems slow down. I crave more reading than writing. I have the urge to work on closets rather than hang new artwork. I am more emotional and need to be alone more than socialize. You get the idea.

Wait, do you get the idea? Or do you think I’m wacky?

Have you ever noticed this yourself?

So this week and next, while the moon is growing from new (blank) to full (solid silver), I will be capitalizing in her shared energy. I have plans, and I will delay some of the other inner work for when the moon is exhaling again.

Yesterday our Christmas decorations came down, and there is still some spit-shining to do, which are somewhat deconstructive tasks; but now I am mostly in a state of build and imagine. Dream and create.  I have planned…

• Art projects.
• Weight lifting.
• Painting walls new colors.
• Sewing a few aprons.
• Starting early seeds and forcing spring bulbs.
• Maybe even writing a few chapters of this book I have in my head.
• Socializing with friends we miss dearly.

Above-ground type stuff, you know?

Speaking of above-ground… It’s early January, which means seed catalog season here at the Lazy W and everywhere a passionate gardener resides. This is perfect for a waxing moon! Sit with some hot tea or perfect coffee, a notebook, and some colored pens and start dreaming.

• What did well in last year’s garden? Do you want more of that?
• What new plants would you love to try this season?
• Walk around your dormant spaces (at least in your mind) and see what blank spots need filling, and with what? Remember edibles are often just as beautiful as ornamentals.
• What color combinations excite you this year?
• Are you growing flowers for your house, for cut bouquets? If so, what colors do your interiors crave? Are you trendy enough to try Pantone’s color of the year in your garden?
• If you cook a lot at home, what herbs do you find yourself wanting more of? Grow those. And if you decide to grow herbs, you might as well grow your own salad, too. Write that down.

Some people are extremely organized about this garden-planning business. Me? Less so. But I do enjoy the wild brainstorming. And this waxing moon phase is perfect for it.

What do you think of this waxing moon energy? How will you capitalize on it? And are you glued to your seed catalogs yet, like me?

Happy January to you, friends, however you spend it. And may your waxing moon weeks be inspired and productive!

When I admire the wonders of a sunset or the beauty of the moon

My soul expands in the worship of the Creator.

~Mahatma Gandhi

XOXOXOXO

or the beauty of

We woke a bit late this morning, a small miracle in itself for our eyes to not fly open before dawn… to a snow-dusted, sun-bleached farm. Much kinder than the usual thick cloak of ice, this snow was dancing and whooshing past us in great, billowy, magical plumes of white. The winds are so high and wild this week that a person might believe it to be springtime in Oklahoma, not early winter. All day, when the intense, though frigid, January sun has hit the whirling snow dervishes just right, each soft, dry flake has taken on the glittering, delicate appearance of metallic confetti.

The animals are enduring the cold just fine, for which I am so grateful. Chanta, our big orange and white paint horse, is the golden glowing boy in a pale blue and silver landscape, especially when he stands directly in the sunshine. He is so beautiful. He looks how my heart feels right now… Warm and peaceful. Safe. Fat. Ready.

Our life may be on the verge of big changes once again, and that is wonderful. God has been working both Handsome and me in so many ways, healing us from old hurts, training us toward outreach, comforting us, inspiring us, knitting us tightly together… And I know deep in my well fed bones that Love will have His way. While at first glance life’s details may seem wild and unpredictable like today’s spiralling snowflakes, just shine some light on them and suddenly they are beautiful, rare blessings.

I am now off to make pie crusts for a deep dish chicken pot pie, our chosen wintry feast. The chicken breasts and garlic aromas are mingling together already . Two fresh new books are waiting for me on the love seat near the sunniest east window. Prayers for my girls, my Aunt Marion, and so many other loved ones are constantly on my lips. Gratitude is swelling big and sweet in my belly.

I hope you all are warm and safe enough to slow way down and truly enjoy this rare day. I hope you can eat food you love and cuddle people and pets you love, too. I hope your snow is glittering and your heart is fat and ready . For anything.

So many unknowns. So much Love to answer them all.

The bamboo that bends is stronger than the oak that resists.

~Japanese proverb

XOXOXOXO

   Happy Saturday! Handsome and I were up early today. (Sleeping in, if we sleep at all, has become a distant memory.) We drank coffee with his sweet Dad. We watched the molten sunlight spread into every dark crevice of the downstairs. And we sat still, observing and evaluating the gradual acquaintance of our parrot, Bobby Pacino, with one of Harvey’s little dogs, Mia. 

   

   Y’all this is an amazing shot. If you only knew the conditions under which it was taken. I made sure to not include myself in the photo because the other day I colored my hair an unusual shade of blonde that makes me feel like the 80’s. But not in a great way. Like, I don’t recognize myself in the mirror. Think… Ellen Griswold. Ack.

   Funny timing, today I get to go to the City for a smart-phone photography class! I “won” free enrollment with a snapshot I posted to Instagram, never mind that I was the only contestant, and some wonderful book-clubber girlfriends are joining me. I will learn all I can so my photos here will be better. 

   The farm is so beautiful right now. Deep drifts of colorful leaves everywhere. Fuzzy animals. Crisp skies. I want to sit and write about it all, especially the herb garden, which changes daily. Elegantly. I adore that little space.

   Please continue to pray for Handsome, his Dad, the entire family. Finding a new normal is going to take longer than I expected, but that’s okay. Love, as always, is so powerful. 

    I’m learning so much. I’m seeing my men in a more vibrant light. Spiritual lessons are washing over me hour by hour, surprising me with new meanings. Seriously you guys, if I could get my hair right I’d feel pretty stable. 

   

      Also, this is a photo of our little buff, Chunk-hi, back when he was just a little short-horned puppy. He was still small enough to come inside the house. Not so much anymore. Time passes too quickly for my taste. But my gosh the garden looks tons better now! So does the front door. So there’s that. I just thought you might like to see it.

   That’s all the random news I have for the moment. Thank you ever so much for stopping in. I hope to have all kinds of great things to share before long.

   Much love to your corner of paradise, from my spot here in Oklahoma. Life is good, even when it hurts and shocks us. Love is the most powerful force, so use it. Choose it. Cling to it. Kiss your buffalo or your parrot or your inside dog, whatever you have. They need love too.

Nothing You Can Sing 

That Can’t Be Sung

XOXOXO