Lazy W Marie

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

You are here: Home / Home

American Honey

   A few Saturdays ago I was fortunate enough to spend most of the day with Handsome’s colleague at the Commish, our good friend, and my new honey mentor… Maribeth. She’s a three-in-one fantastic person to know, and then some! Maribeth had invited me to visit Cripple Creek Farms with her for a beekeepers’ social gathering and hive diagnosis demonstration.

   Cripple Creek is a privately owned farm near Guthrie, Oklahoma, where the proprietors Randy and Treasa Brady raise bees, goats, and chickens and grow peaches, vegetables, herbs, and more. They hosted us and a few dozen other bee keepers for coffee and donuts, tours, discussion, and then a wonderful outdoor lunch.They are just as lovely and hospitable as you can imagine, and I hope to return for an agri-tourism event soon! If you shop the Saturday morning farmer’s market in Edmond, look for their products.

Thank you for your hospitality, Randy & Treasa!
Their verdant row of peach trees already in fruit 
made the chlorophyll in my veins hum.
(Keep in mind this was almost a month ago.)
By the way, how cool is it that growing foods and flowers 
and keeping bees are so simpatico? So symbiotic? So poetic?
This links my paternal heritage of apiaries 
and my maternal heritage of gardens,
and I just love that.
Goat kids are so cute. In other people’s yards.
These babies are bottle fed and certified organic and disease free,
and they will eventually be faithful dairy producers.
   It was a thoroughly beautiful day in every respect. In fact, I learned so much and was so inspired by the experience that I have had trouble deciding how to tell the story. Should I try to tackle the science, or should I instead try to impart to you the magic? That’s the struggle I felt the whole time we were at Cripple Creek, too. Should I obey the desire to learn, restricting my imagination and focusing stringently on the education available? Or is this experience meant to fill my heart, fueling me for the pen-and-paper classes soon to come? Should I just surrender to the romance of a thriving bee yard?

   I chose the magic and romance, big surprise.

   Oh, and by the way, that day was also supposed to be the next official bee class at OSU, but I had the instructor’s blessing to skip class and attend this instead. You guys, the last time I skipped class it was because I hadn’t studied for something and I was looking over my shoulder the whole time!

   Before we continue, perhaps I should insert here that I made the odd mistake of wearing intentionally frayed and holey jeans to the bee yard. The reason was less for fashion and more because I knew not to wear perfume or fragranced soap, so I just took it a step further and wore the same clothes I wore that Friday. Anyway, that was a mistake. 

   My neighbors on the hay trailer were kind enough to notice, and Maribeth helped me seal up the many points of bee entry with her trusty duct tape.

“Duct tape is a beekeeper’s best friend.” ~Maribeth


********************

    The sky was cloudless. It glowed with that deep, bright color of old denim. The sun poured like warm butter all over my skin, all over the trees and all over every free range chicken and every blade of green grass. If there was any breeze that day, it was mild. Nearly undetectable.

She grew up on the side of the road

Where the church bells ring
and strong love grows
She grew up good, she grew up slow
like American honey

   Once we all suited up and enjoyed a slow hay-and-trailer ride down to the bee yard, a couple of football fields away, we walked around cautiously.

   Following our host I noticed a gradual increase in bee activity. The buzzing was a whisper at first, then it grew louder and more urgent, almost loud enough to sound amplified, like on a microphone.

   But it was lulling, not terrifying at all. The communal hum was downright soothing. I wanted to lay in the grass and clover with the sun on my skin and sleep there or maybe read.

   Do you know what’s amazing? The complexity of a bee colony. And the gentle industry.

Steady as a preacher, free as a weed
Couldn’t wait to get going
But wasn’t quite ready to leave
So innocent, pure and sweet
like American honey

Here, Randy was describing the usurping of a Russian queen bee
by an Italian one and the changing health of the remaining colony.
It’s very thought provoking.
Because of my reading material this spring,
the political implications were on the tip of my tongue.

   The long, complicated, delicate process of honey production is possibly nearer to enchantment than even a seed breaking dormancy in the spring. Nature’s honey recipe is so uniquely beautiful and so filled with intricacy that the fact that we can not only impose ourselves into that process but also participate in it and even enhance it, well… I have no problem calling that a miracle. What a gift that God would allow us to be involved in this!

Get caught in the race of this crazy life
Trying to be everything can make you lose your mind
I just wanna go back in time to American honey
There’s a wild, wild whisper blowing in the wind…
Calling out my name like a long lost friend.
Oh how I miss those days as those years go by
Oh nothing’s sweeter than summertime
And American honey. 

Are you entranced by natural honeycomb?
Its shape, colors, texture, even its pale fragrance…
Mesmerizing.
   Maribeth and her husband Dean joined us last weekend for dinner and hours of sparkling conversation. That evening we scouted around the Lazy W and chose the perfect hive location. Handsome and I have a few more preparations to make, then tomorrow evening I drive to Noble, Oklahoma, to retrieve my two colonies. 

   And then the real adventure begins. 
“Hope is the only bee that makes honey without flowers.”
~Robert Green Ingersall
xoxoxoxo
Tune in tomorrow for a little story about the hive painting…

The Book Thief (a book review)

   This novel, The Book Thief by Marcus Zusak, is a title our club consumed a few months ago. I am just now reviewing it, honestly, because I am just now finishing it. I did not much groove this book, you guys. Not much at all. And this places me squarely in our club’s minority. It has several redeeming qualities, for sure, and I am happy to share them with you and encourage you to try it for yourself; but overall I had to push and prod myself through page after page. Even with nice, beefy subject matter like friendship and survival, coming of age, and genocide, I like books to offer a little more momentum than that. Okay, now that that’s out of the way… Have you heard of The Book Thief?

   It is a fancifully written but gritty, personal account of a young girl living in Nazi Germany. It is told more or less from the perspective of Death himself, which as far as I remember is why our club chose the book in the first place. Written by Marcus Zusak, this story is aimed at a Young Adults audience and in fact spent almost a year on the New York Times Children’s Literature best seller’s list. That’s quite something! And it may sort of explain why I had a hard time connecting with it.

   The format is unique, in that Death sometimes narrates in a comfortably informal, conversational tone, and other times the story is told as distantly as any novel. I greatly preferred the odd narration and really liked how Zusak used sensual imagery to convey war and death. Especially luscious are the long series of different ways Death lifts a soul from its body, and often, interestingly, vivid accounts of the sky at the moment each soul is claimed.

“The sky was like soup, boiling and stirring. 
In some places it was burned. 
There were black crumbs, and pepper, 
streaked across the redness.”

   That was well done, as were many scattered elements of the story. I got lost in more than a few descriptive scenes like that. And he does express pain really well.

“Hans Hubermann sat with her. 
He placed his hand on hers, as she fell back to the hard ground.
He allowed her screams to fill the street.”

   The characters are only marginally sympathetic for me, until the very tail end of the book, and by then I was rather exhausted. On the other hand, the characters were realistic and believably flawed, less heroic than we are used to seeing in novels. Perhaps that was his whole point, that the World Wars were fought by real people, that not all Germans were all evil or all good, and that not all Jews or Allies were either.

   Again, this is important historical material, and perhaps it is intended to fall on ears that have had little exposure to World War II realities. Zusak does a great job reducing the big events to the cellular level, relaying, for example, how a bombing raid would feel to a village, to a family, to a young girl. And through the main character’s life story we are invited to see how the wars affected German bystanders who were not necessarily Hitler supporters. These are valuable perspectives, for sure. And I do not mean to discount them or any other part of the book with my overall negative impression of it. It was just a slightly laborious read.

   I find myself wishing Zusak would write something else, something more adult, employing more of the fringed imagery he has invented.

   Have you read this book? Please share your thoughts. And please do not forward this to the author.

A Friend to All is a Friend to None, 
Even in Book Reviews
xoxoxo

A Senses Tour, May 2nd

   I went outside early this morning in flip flops instead of rubber boots and zipped through a handful of chores, eager to get to the good stuff. I took with me a giant mug of hot, perfectly delicious coffee and thought about how much opportunity is at our feet.

   The sky was golden-blue and already very warm, the breeze was mild compared to yesterday’s gustiness, and the animals were all bright eyed and affectionate. I felt life pulsing happily all around me and had love seeping out of my skin. These are the perfect conditions for flip flops.

   Do you know what I found when I walked downhill and into the veggie garden?

   The green beans had sprouted overnight! In just five days, ladies and gentlemen. And the sprouts are thick, strong, and numerous. 
   I sank all twenty-nine of yesterday’s leafy purchases into the third raised bed while chatting with my wonderful sister in law Halee. This is a hidden benefit of planting in raised beds, by the way: you can cultivate one handed. 
   Something about the angle of the morning sun and the effervescence of the butterflies in my tummy made it possible to envision the fruits and vegetables in full growth, three or four months from now, maybe sooner at this rate. And that blurry little glimpse into the garden’s future made it possible for me to think of how the rest of life might look in the future. How might all of our prayers be answered? What will our goals be down the road? How will our friendships have changed?
   Maybe it’s better to keep my head in the present moment.
   It’s mid-morning now and I need to move on to some other jobs. But first, to sort of time-stamp this particularly vivid Wednesday, a quick Senses Tour…
********************
See:  I see the geese and guineas skittering all over the south lawn, and I see the wild foresty hill where Rebecca and Brian will be saying their wedding vows in less than three weeks. I see manure-coated gardening gloves sitting on my clean tablecloth (whoops!), a flash light that needs to be recharged, and an empty coffee mug. I see two books: one that I am forcing myself to finish and one that I can’t wait to start.
Hear: I hear Pacino outside, flirting with the hens. I hear the refrigerator humming and the roosters crowing. I hear my stomach growl because its almost lunchtime. I hear my heart beating with romance.
Touch: My hands feel a little beaten up this morning, but my hair is clean. That’s a plus. I am eager to finish some work indoors so I can get back outside and feel the sun again. Today and tomorrow are tank top and flip flop days, you guys. We are soaking up an early summertime in Oklahoma, and I love it!
Smell: I can smell the bleachy freshness of dish-washing soap, a patchouli-infused candle, and the citrusy sweetness of a bowl of oranges in front of me.
Taste: Lipgloss. Just plain lipgloss. The coffee, fresh egg, and cinnamon raisin toast from earlier are long gone now.
Think: Yesterday I spent some much needed and incredibly nourishing time with my girls, just the three of us. I am thinking of them from head to toe, inside and out, wondering about some of the things they said, celebrating the laughter we shared, just loving them invisibly and from a distance. I am also thinking of the aprons that need to be delivered and of the wedding we’re all planning. How lucky am I that these beautiful things are the stuff of daily life?
********************
   What’s going on in your neck of the woods? How are your senses affecting you?

Be on the Lookout for Miracles.
xoxoxoxo

Garden Update: May Day

  Well hello there dahlings… I am sustaining the nasty habit of writing only once or twice a week, mostly because this is a busy time of year and lots of lots of worthwhile tasks are keeping my attention all day every day. In addition to sewing orders and normal housework and animal stuff, the garden has been a big energy consumer. In a wonderful, happy way, though.

   Most days I wake up wondering what has happened while I slept and what the weather will be that day. Will it allow me to dig, or should I sow? Is it a day for weeding, and have those morning glory seeds split open yet so I can plant them? Or will the chickens just eat them? Are moon flowers toxic to horses? And what the heck am I going to do about that weirdly thick rose bush our front? What did those salvia fail? Wait, it’s a waning moon right now… what does that mean again? Is it already too late for cilantro? My gosh I miss the smell of basil. It’s gonna be such a good year for squash. I hope someone will go fishing for me so I can get those fish heads for the corn. These are some of the three and a half million thoughts that swarm my brain every morning on my way downstairs for that first heavenly cup of steaming hot coffee.

   The potagerie is on track so far. All four raised beds are sturdy and, dare I say, quite attractive. Three of them have been filled lasagna style with alternating layers of dried leaves, chicken litter, horse manure, and finally some beautiful top soil we had dumped here last week. Two of those filled beds have now been planted. And, unbelievably, the chickens are minding their manners. The only seedlings I have discovered kicked and scratched out of the earth are some zinnias up at the east flower bed, near the front door. Everything else has been left alone. This is reason for cautious celebration!

   By the way, you guys, this is the first time in my life I have ever written a check for dirt. DIRT. I mean, we live on nine acres, so you might think I could drum up my own dirt. But most of our property is sandy, which is barely amenable to growing the stuff we really like to eat, with the exception of melons, berries, spinach, and fruit trees. Those thrive in sand. Anyway, the dirt purchase felt weird, but it should yield us some good  edibles.

   The gentleman who delivered this load of top soil tried three separate times to purchase Chanta, our large paint, for breeding purposes. He is one sexy horse. And he knows it.
   I have been stealing time every day to work the soil and tuck into it little sprinkles of seeds. The first cucumber seeds germinated and sprouted in just THREE DAYS. I don’t know about you, but in my book that is fast. That is crazy fast. When I discovered the little green leaf pairs and realized what they were, I started giggling uncontrollably.
   Home Depot had some really good prices on perennials, shade flowers, and herbs…
… so yesterday I scooped up one 2001 Camaro hatchback full of said beauties and sank them right into their new homes. Can you imagine how good my car smelled, filled in the afternoon heat with rosemary, lavender, thyme, and tomatoes? Blissful. 
   Today while I was in Oklahoma City visiting with my girls I stopped at an all time favorite garden haunt…. Pam’s near the old Farmer’s Market. If you’re local, you should treat yourself with a visit here. They never disappoint. I scooped up a full flat, in fact an overflowing flat, for just $24.50. That is almost thirty plants you guys! Big, healthy, vigorous seedlings, some of them already in flower or fruit! Those babies will be planted first thing in the morning.
Obviously you are now jealous of my mad photography skills.
Eggplant, another vegetable I am proud to say that Handsome has grown to enjoy.
Can you see the squash blossoms? I think we have six varieties now.
   Peppers!! I bought so many different peppers. This is just a snapshot, but can you see the shiny green jalapeno already dangling form the vine? They are gonna love that full sun bed.
   Also watermelon. This should be a perfect year for growing all kinds of melons, and if things go well we might even throw up a few grape vines. In all of our spare time, right?
   The excitement of spring planting is universal among gardeners, I know. And I have experienced it myself about twenty distinct times so far. But this year it feels different. This year I crave something a little deeper and slower. I have a little more patience. And I have a lot more purpose. 
   The feeling is not unlike being packed and ready for a long, adventurous travel. A pilgrimage, though, not a vacation. I feel connected to nature and invited to witness secret miracles.
   If you are tending a garden this year too, I wish you all the best. All the best growing conditions, the best inspiration, the best harvests of both food and joy! Come get some manure, we still have plenty.
I think someone gave me a chlorophyll transfusion.
xoxoxoxo

Chim Chimmery

   With the weather warming up so much, the horses have been shedding like crazy. And so I have been brushing them like crazy, something that is so nice for both horse and human that it can scarcely be called a “chore.” Each of our three pasture ornaments has a certain way he or she likes to be groomed, and if you do it right you usually end up with a sleeping behemoth leaning against you. That’s kind of the paycheck for this particular task. All of them appreciate a nice lullaby, too, so I sing while I brush. Thank goodness they are not too picky about pitch, tone, or volume.

   The other day I caught myself singing Chanta a song that my human chickens used to love, too, one we sang every night at bedtime for years. Chim Chimmeree from Mary Poppins. Do you know it? It is soft and slow and sounds a little bit sad, but only until you really listen to the words… Then all of a sudden there is gentle contentment in this song, and truly it describes how I finally feel about my life, my job, my station in this world.

Chim Chimmeree, Chim Chimmeree
Chim Chim Charee…
A sweep is as lucky as lucky can be…
*
Chim Chimmeree, Chim Chimmeree
Chim Chim Charroo…
Good luck will rub off
When he shakes hands with you…
*
Or blow me a kiss 
And that’s lucky too!
*
Now that the ladder
of life has been strung,
You may think a sweep’s
on the bottom-most rung…
*
Though I spends me time
in the ashes and smoke,
In this whole wide world 
there’s no happier bloke…



   Sometimes being W-2 challenged serves up a bit of an identity crisis, especially without children at home to justify my being home, at least publicly. I have friends with fascinating careers who are tempted to abandon them. Other friends have children but still crave something more. Several beautiful women in my life are ready for romance and frustrated by the games people play. We all have days when we envy other people’s situation a little bit, and possibly even feel intimidated. For example, I have so much admiration not only for homeschooling moms but also for professional women who keep it all together that sometimes I let it crush me. Then all of a sudden my joy has evaporated. Unfulfilled longings can be very painful, and we all feel that from time to time.

   This is such a waste of time and energy. Each of us plays a part in this world, and each of us has been given unmeasured gifts and blessings that are unique to our lives and our souls. In fact, I think that the same gift in one life will manifest very differently in another because of each person’s uniqueness. A deep, refreshing well of wonder can be found in learning to appreciate your own special circumstances long before anyone else appreciates it for you, regardless of whether anyone else ever does, even.

   I am not suggesting that we stop reaching for goals or blind ourselves to the possibilities of change; quite the opposite. I am suggesting that we spark change with appreciation instead of envy. Learning to savor the details of my life, evolving and unplanned though they may be, has done wonders for my heart. With that appreciation comes increased contentment, confidence, and joy! This has allowed me to be friends with women who not very long ago would have intimidated me to that point of crumbling retreat. It has allowed me to dream more freely and laugh a lot more. I wish for longer days instead of shorter ones, and lately I can pray for my children with more faith than worry. So the precipitation of learning to love your life, no matter how it may look to other people, is incredibly nourishing. Start today.

   I certainly hope for a future where I can impart this feeling and so much more to my girls. Maybe the lullaby sank into their hearts years ago and they’ll realize it along with me.

The Ladder of Life is an Illusion, Be Happy. 
xoxoxoxo


Linking up to Mama Kat, in answer to her question: What do you love most about your job?