Lazy W Marie

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

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Chilly Sunday Afternoon (Small Stone January 8th)

January 8, 2012

   The air is cooler today than it’s been in a while, crisper and drier too. The sky is slate gray with only patches of blue here and there, and where the afternoon sun manages to scrape through the clouds, its light is a dull silver instead of the usual gold. The evocative fragrance of a bonfire mixes with the smells of hay, leather, and chicken litter, so that closing my eyes takes me back to our beloved Buffalo Mountain. 
   Out of nowhere a breeze kicks up, scattering a thousand fragile oak leaves and slicing through  my long but thin cotton sleeves. I am reminded gently that we’re still in the middle of January, that the sublime springtime fantasy these past weeks was exactly that.

5 Comments
Filed Under: memories, Oklahoma, small stones

Brushing Chanta (Small Stone January 7th)

January 8, 2012

   I drag the circular metal brush along his body, easily and gently sorting out the red dirt from his long winter hairs which have dried together in wavy, random peaks. He’s definitely been in the pond today. This boy smells of mud,  sunshine, and a little algae. 
   The longer I brush him the more he relaxes, until his left rear hoof cocks up nearly off the ground, transferring even more of his 1200 pounds forward. A good sign of sleepiness.
   He lets me smooth and clean his gorgeous neck, then every muscular part of his body, and then each of his four incredible legs, all the while listening to his deep, steady breathing, until all that remains uncombed are his belly and his throat. 
   His round belly is ticklish, so i have to be more careful here. Brushing it wakes him up a bit, and he bends that long, thick neck far to his left for a closer look at my progress. We Eskimo kiss peacefully and I continue. He exhales as if to surrender.
   Once his belly is clean and smooth again, liberated from that afternoon cloud of red dirt, I creep gingerly to kneel in front of this gentle giant. Brushing his throat, touching his feet, squeezing his knobby knees, inhaling his sweet, warm breath and noticing the halo of late day sun through the edge of his coat. So beautiful, this horse. His ankles, so strong and solid, are covered by tendrils of silver blond hair for winter.
   Now squatting in front of him, I rest my forehead on that plump, divided piece of flesh on his chest. Nuzzle him with my cheek. Kiss his furry shoulder. He returns the gesture by leaning way down and simply resting his chubby mouth on the top of my head. I am pretty sure he fell asleep again in this position, just for a couple of minutes. I sit very still and just accept it. Then without warning I feel him chewing sneakily on my ponytail. 
   I could stay here and do this all day. So could he, I think, because when I finally stand and walk reluctantly away he crosses my path and nudges my hands, insisting on more.

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Filed Under: animals, daily life, small stones

Sensual Morning (Small Stone January 6th)

January 6, 2012

   Mid morning sun bathes everything downstairs in warmth and brightness, revealing both sparkling glass and dusty chair legs. I can smell fresh coffee, dish washing soap, and pine scented perfume, a Scentsy gift from my cousin Jen. Big, broad, healthy poinsettia leaves in red, green and creamy white beg to be touched. They look and feel like threadbare velvet. This reminds me to brush the horses, to kiss their velvet noses. Which reminds me to scoop more manure today, please and thank you. Which makes me wonder how many pairs of jeans I still have clean.
   At 8:23 a.m., anything is still possible. A good chunk of my daily tasks are already completed and nearly ten hours stand between us and a blessedly holiday-free weekend. This fact is both motivating and paralyzing.
   I wonder what the girls are doing this morning. 
How happy, healthy, sleepy, excited, nostalgic, 
romantic, silly, curious, angry, or ornery they might feel.
I hope they feel my love.
   Having a difficult time peeling myself away from the quiet, I decide to drain the last of my sweet, hot coffee from my favorite chipped rooster mug. See what kind of dent I can make in the day. Saying a quick prayer for everyone to return to Love, truth, and beauty, and to cling to those as much as possible. It’s now 8:34 a.m., time to launch.

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Filed Under: daily life, small stones, time

Bird Watching (Small Stone January 5th)

January 6, 2012

   Sitting in our big east window this Thursday morning, our large macaw on my shoulder, I can’t help but notice the barrier between wild and tame. I can smell his powdery dander, feel his smooth feathers against my face, and hear his gentle mornings clucks and kisses. He mostly focuses on me and only occasionally notices the flurry of activity outdoors. On the other side of the smooth glass pane, cardinals, blue jays, crows, and so many other birds are in swarms today. Zooming through the abundant sunshine, hunting breakfast, swirling patterns of love and freedom in the clean January sky. 
   The smallest birds are like specks compared to our huge blue and yellow baby, but despite his size and despite his massive hook bill and sharp talons, he is the most vulnerable of them all.
********************

Not two minutes after writing this, 
Pacino had returned to his cage 
and a very small, fat, gray and brown bird 
crashed violently into the picture window. 
Pacino jumped muttered seriously, “Uh-oh. What happened?”

Apparently domesticity breeds some compassion.  

I thanked my lucky bird-Momma stars that he was safe in his gilded cage,
perhaps a little less vulnerable than I a moment ago believed.

3 Comments
Filed Under: animals, daily life, small stones

The Heart of a Hostess

January 4, 2012

   On New Year’s Day I visited my parents’ house in Oklahoma City, had a GREAT time all afternoon, and drove back to the farm with my heart full of love. It’s always fun to see everyone in our big ol’ family, and it turns out that I didn’t even leave that early, didn’t even miss that much of the party.
   Or so I thought.
   Later that evening I did some goofing around on Facebook and saw photos of lots of people on my parents’ front porch. People I did not recognize. Sitting in the same deep, reclining wooden bench where I have sat my whole life. Covered up in blankets in which I have been cuddling daughters and nieces for years. I crinkled my face and searched my memory. Not a scrap of a clue as to these crazy weirdo people’s identity. Nothing.
   “WHO THE HECK ARE THESE YAHOOS?!?!” I may or may not have shouted at my laptop. Then I typed a slightly more polite version of my question on Mom’s Facebook page. She never responded, and I can only imagine her shaking her head in disappointment, pursing her sweet mouth and blinking slowly.
   “Tsk. Tsk.”
   The issue has been on the back burner for a couple of days, but the heat has been on. My curiosity, nay, my sense of trespass, has been simmering.

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

   So…  Today I went to see my Mom at her office, enjoyed some very sweet chit chat, and was introduced to several of her coworkers. Very nice people. Not strangers at all.
  Then the matter of Strangers on the Front Porch was raised. I took a deep breath because anything was possible in that moment. She could be telling me about siblings I never knew I had. Or that she and Dad had taken up Couch Surfing. Or that I was mistaken in my comment typing and that wasn’t her Facebook page at all, but rather a different Parents’ House Front Porch in an alternate reality or something like that.
   Nothing could be further for the truth.
   It turns out that Mom was just being Mom. I’d love to tell you what happened.
   A work crew installing fencing down the street had hit a high pressure gas line. This is a serious accident, of course, but fortunately nothing exploded and no one was hurt. The worst that happened is the temporary evacuation of all the people on that side of the street. Mom said that among the evacuees was a family that had just bought their house; they hadn’t even finished moving in yet.
   So what happened?
   Mom invited them to her house, where she was still entertaining extended family, may I remind you. They piled onto my childhood her front porch, feeling too cautious or too polite to immediately accept the invitation indoors.
   Mom said they all sat on the front porch for a while, sharing blankets and hot chocolate. Getting to know each other a little bit. And judging from the big smiles on these yahoos‘ Mom and Dad’s new neighbors’ faces, everyone was having a great time. Mom told me that later in the evening (it was an hours-long evacuation) they went inside and even ordered pizzas and played games.
   And that is the story of Strangers on the Front Porch.
********************
   Wow. And to think I almost ordered my sweet Momma a copy of the Reluctant Entertainer book for Christmas. She doesn’t credit herself in this way, but she is a natural hostess. Her heart is in exactly the condition that hostessing requires: open, warm, and sensitive to the needs of others. Ready to bless, not impress, as Sandy Coughlin teaches.
Reluctant Entertainer, The: Every Woman's Guide to Simple and Gracious Hospitality
   Okay, I am definitely ordering her the book anyway. She needs to know how natural she is. I love you Momma.
Stranger Danger, You Guys!!!!
But seriously, Open Your Hearts Before You Open Your Homes.
xoxoxoxo
   

9 Comments
Filed Under: daily life, family, hostessing, memories

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Hi! I'm Marie. Welcome to the Lazy W. xoxo

Hi! I’m Marie. This is the Lazy W.

A hobby farming, book reading, coffee drinking, romance having, miles running girl in Oklahoma. Soaking up the particular beauty of every day. Blogging on the side. Welcome to the Lazy W!

I Believe Strongly in the Power of Gratitude & Joy Seeking

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