Lazy W Marie

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

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friday 5 at the farm: missed photos

May 3, 2024

First, here are two snapshots of Scarletta Jones providing composting services as I cleaned out a space for planting green beans:

((scarletta jones very interested in the fresh weeds I was pulling
from the vegetable garden May 2024))
((she mooed gently and followed me around the perimeter))

And here are at least five photos I missed recently because I didn’t have my phone in my pocket:

ONE: Rhett, standing to Scarlett’s immediate left, their shoulders touching, was licking her face over and over again like she was a popsicle. His eyes were wide open, and hers were closed, a contented expression. Their tails swished almost in unison, dismissing flies. I take lots of snapshots of them most days, but this is one I really regret not capturing.

TWO: Chanta driving all his weight onto his front legs in order to kick Dusty, vertical bucking bronco style, because he felt my ten minute tardiness in feeding them breakfast was for sure Dusty’s fault. Chanta’s coat is almost shiny now, very little winter fur remianing, and his belly is filled in luxuriantly. His leg muscles rippled when he moved to kick. His beachy mane flew wildly. I celebrate every day he shows such youthful vitality and always wish I had taken a photo of moments like this.

THREE: One of the Ex-Pat roosters from our sweet neighbors’ house next door has taken up residence with one of our bantam hens, who almost daily escapes the coop to be with him. There are at least three free range Ex-Pats, but this particular one is in love with this hen, and she clearly returns his affection. One morning recently she had gotten herself enclosed in a live trap (the kind you put out for raccoons, etc.), but I hadn’t noticed yet. I was working in the Circle Garden, and he traipsed up to me and tilted his head, clucked so politiely, with a quesiton mark inflection at the end. “Excuse me, Ma’am?” I talked to him for a minute then followed when he scurried across the yard and around an oak tree to the metal cage where his betrothed was waiting. I released her, reprimanded her gently, then watched them proceed to eat breakfast together. The food was nearby; he could have eaten without her but didn’t. I would love to have captured the look on his face when he approached me for help. And I would love to have a photo of them scratching up their shared meal, crisis averted.

FOUR: The early mornings have been foggy and rainy and moody, with smeared navy and grey skies and dramatic cloud patterns. I have taken zero photos of all the beautiful gloom, but I wish I had taken hundreds. Twice this week I did breakfast chores beneath a canopy of shimmering hidden lightning, and it was gorgeous. There will soon be a day when we are parched dry to the bones and crave this heaviness and thick moisture. I love it all but wish I had taken photos of the sky this week.

FIVE: I had a waking dream of Jocelyn again, and while that is not something you can take a physical photo of, I still wish I had it to see with my eyes over and over again. She will be twenty nine at the end of this summer, and despite the circumstances I feel intensely close to her. I feel her in my heart and against my skin, and in this waking dream I heard her voice. It is lower now, more womanly. Her girlish limbs are different. Stronger, more graceful. Her eyes have more maturity and experiece behind them, but they still sparkle, are still deep brown and glossy with ideas and grief and depth. I wonder if she has visions or waking dreams of me, too. If she has a sense for what has changed in her absence. If she knows how much she is missed but also how much she is trusted and loved and upheld in thought and prayer and conversaton. She felt preternaturally close to me during this vision, and I am so thanful for that gift.

“Keep joy in the front seat.”
~Courtney Dauwalter
XOXOXO

3 Comments
Filed Under: Friday 5 at the Farm, UncategorizedTagged: animals, choose joy, daily life, faith, farm life, jocelyn

a dream and a prayer

March 21, 2023

I had the most wonderful dream about Jocelyn last night.

Last night she came to me as a toddler, a baby really, those enormous dark brown eyes twinkling at me, her tiny pink mouth smirking and smiling. Her little body was bouncing and trembling with happiness. She wobbled around a table to me and reached up to be held, and in that dreamy way I could physically feel the smallness and buoyancy of her body. I could smell her milk breath, her soapy soft skin. Her fists grabbed at my hair and tugged it with baby strength.

Last night we traded deep stares and touched noses and clung to each other. We relayed our thoughts easily, without speaking. Everything was understood perfectly. No interference, no missteps, no regrets. Though she was a baby, she had already lived so much, and she was letting me know she was okay. I could, in a few giggling cuddles, relay my intentions. My immense love poured out and wrapped her up. She let me know she sees it all, even Colorado in retrospect, and I am here now, Mama, I love you, I need you.

In just a few minutes of cuddling, we burned through so many years of other people’s lies and abuses. I had time to correct my mistakes. We simmered in a chance to reclaim what was lost, and even more. Not just years but also memories, plans for the future, everything.

As I recall the details of the dream, I cannot remember how it ended. Just that we stayed together all day, in love and peace.

I miss her so much. I miss you so much, Jocelyn. I know I am supposed to focus on the good, and I really try to. I believe that Love wins and that what we have lost can at any moment be returned tenfold. I have been dreaming of her a lot lately, and maybe these dreams are gifts to remind me of that feeling. Because most of the time, awake, I just feel so much ache for my firstborn, anger and grief for the things she has endured, sadness mixed with admiration for the way she is forging through the world on her own. Just pain for the gaping emptiness our family feels without her.

I know she’s not a baby anymore, and she never will be again. But to me she will always be that beautiful and perfect, that full of energy and love, all promise and joy. To me Love will always win in her life. And I will always be here, ready when she is.

Until then, I am so grateful for every dream where she appears.

I love you, Joc.
XOXO

4 Comments
Filed Under: jocTagged: faith, family, love, prayer

we’re not perfect, but do we deserve THIS?

March 3, 2023

As unsavory as this feels to write, it’s such a big headline in our lives that I can’t not write it.

We are in a season of endurance again. More accurately, we are layering up more crises and more heartbreak upon old crises and heartbreaks that still want answers. New grief is raining down on a land already saturated with grief that seems to have no way to drain. We are drowning. Are you too?

And the prevailing outcry seems to be, why? Why do we find ourselves in such a pattern of false accusation and turmoil wrought by liars and abusive power wielding egomaniacs?

From the people who hurt our children all those years to politicians and reporters (I will not pay the compliment of using the word journalist) who make false accusations, create hostile work environments, and perpetuate false narratives, I am stunned by the growing number of people who are happy to spread darkness.

These are hardly new themes, and we are hardly the first people to suffer false accusations and undue loss. History is thick with abuse, backwards storytelling, deep grief, and bizarre turns of events. So, yes. I have some perspective and I hate to whine.

But to us, in our marriage and our little life in Oklahoma, these things are personal and they are changing the trajectory of everything.

Or, they could.

We choose to not allow it.

We choose to affirm our trust in God, that truth has a way of making itself known. That light drives out darkness. That mercy is real, and we know we are hardly perfect but also not remotely guilty of the things being said. Not then, and not now. The noise can be disorienting, but it cannot convince us of a lie.

We also know the people saying these things are, actually, guilty of their own words and much more. It’s almost unbelievable. So, know that the word abuse is used neither lightly nor vaguely. We already know the truth. For now we choose to stay quiet, having put specific people in God’s hands.

The idea of deserving a thing, good or bad, is so messy. In our culture we are pretty hyped up about justice, which is great and fine. But in the spiritual realm, we understand that at some point justice meets mercy, so we are warned to walk humbly. We have enjoyed so many blessings we really do not deserve, that maybe we can trust God long enough to endure the hardships we don’t think we deserve. How can we expect one but not the other? I’m not suggesting we just lay down and take it. Accept the mistreatment. But maybe there’s an opportunity here, an invitation.

fog, lazy w, oklahoma, faith

Maybe we can dig a little deeper and unearth purpose in all of this. There is a goldmine of strength and wisdom to be gained here, gifts the abusers will never enjoy. We have a community worth pursuing and a way to show the next generation how to endure, how to work, how to refine our methods and grow despite the attacks and the inevitable losses. Evolve. Overcome.

For all the people I miss and grieve in our family, for all the awful things I still fear, I choose to see how suddenly miracles tend to happen and how quickly healing can take place. I choose to acknowledge that magical season with Jocelyn and the deep relationship we have with Jessica now, and her sweet husband Alex. Day after day, all these years, even in the darkest times. I choose to see how God has blessed our family and our farm, how He has more than returned the time lost and how He has more than punished some of the evil. I now can even bless Colorado in my thoughts. When we choose to really look, even that storm poured out a tidal wave of blessings. We cannot forget that.

So. With that strength in my belly, I bless the Commission. I choose to see the beauty of the growing community there, the wealth of talent and goodness and faith. I thank God ahead of time for what He is doing, for the relief coming, for the answers and path ahead. Maybe we can’t see it yet, but it’s there. It’s safe to trust His guidance, one step at a time.

We don’t deserve a lot of things. Not another hard season, not more false accusations, and not the abundant goodness of Life.

Let the darkness rage, uncontrolled and furious. Pretend it is a wild animal held safely behind a thick glass wall, unbreakable.

I affirm that truth prevails and Love reigns. I choose joy.

XOXOXOXO
Marie

5 Comments
Filed Under: UncategorizedTagged: choose joy, commish, faith, grief, prayer

checking in on a dewy morning (and my lesson on toxic positivity)

December 6, 2022

Hello friends, and happy December! How was your Thanksgiving? How is your holiday spirit in general? How is the weather where you living out your life story?

((still rewilding the front field…xoxo))

Here at the farm we are enjoying dark, dewy nature walks and dense fog advisories, plus the luscious promise of more rain soon. We hosted a small, magical family Thanksgiving here, and our holiday spirits are high. From our nieces’ high school orchestra concerts and dance recitals to silly parties with friends and lots of simple weekly gatherings, we have more seasonal thrills and pleasures than we can count. I hope you do, too. I also hope that on the days your calendar is less full, you breathe deeply and rest. Soak up the nutrients of all those traditions and activities.

Do you have a moment for me to share a little lesson I learned recently?

Last week I ran across a simple passage about the value of letting people feel however they feel. Often I rail against charges of “toxic positivity” because, in my own experience, I have suffered greatly and fought hard for my outlook on life, so I see with unshakable clarity the fundamental and life-changing value of hope and optimism. For anyone to call me toxic because of that has so far felt hurtful and, ironically, umm, toxic? haha… A simple reminder shifted my perspective even on this: Denying anyone the space to fully experience their emotions, whatever they are, dehumanizes them.

OUCH. I would never consciously dehumanize another person, not even in an effort to help them. This was such a valuable redirection for me. Since reading this, I have noticed something beautiful. I am giving fewer pep talks to rescue people from sadness or despair, and I am spending much more time in private prayer. I ask for more miracles on their behalf but offer fewer bright sides and silver linings to gaze at. (Maybe I just offer encouragement to keep going.)

Many of those prayers are already being answered, and I know more answers are coming. I get to witness my loved ones enjoying not only better circumstances but also better outlooks, all on their own, without me possibly annoying them (or dehumanizing them) with the spiritual cheerleader bit.

Privately, of course, I am still free to maintain my own outlook and convictions. All by myself I know that life is good, that counting joys produces miracles, and that believing in Love means things tend to work out in our favor.

fog, lazy w, oklahoma, faith

Choosing to step back and allow others to feel their emotions fully and experience their days and perspectives means I get to do the same, whether anyone agrees with me or not. Seeing this also showed me that all along I may have had a grain of loneliness in my pep talks, something in my heart that needed someone “out there” to agree with me that things were going to be ok, in order to fully believe so myself. I guess that’s human. But now, it feels incredible to pray and believe in impossible things all by myself, with just that intense, private assurance that God is listening and acting behind the scenes. He has been all along. He has been showing me new and amazing power in my life story, and He is doing the same for my loved ones. Why would I deny anyone that beautiful adventure?

Advent 2021 post about LOVE

Advent 2021 post about JOY

A 2018 post about fractals

A different mustard seed parable than we grew up hearing

Count it All Joy

Witness Me

I want to be an encouragement but not a stumbling block, as they say. If you need me to pray and agree with you about a miracle you need, speak up. If you want a specific encouragement, let me know. Otherwise I will just be here, quietly knowing that things are going to work out. Probably in ways you have yet to imagine.

“Faith is the bird that feels the light
and sings when the dawn is still dark.”
~Rabindranath Tagore
XOXOXOXO

3 Comments
Filed Under: UncategorizedTagged: advent, choose joy, encouragement, faith, love, miracles, toxic positivity

contradictions & harmony, freedom & chaos

November 17, 2022

A couple of weeks ago while driving north on our road, I saw something that sparked my imagination. That vibe has stayed with me all this time.

A twenty-something guy, short cut hair, a well groomed, conservative beard, wearing a preppy pastel shirt with worn out probably skinny jeans and definitely shiny loafers, no socks, was riding an enormous Harley Davidson motorcycle with a small, terrier-like dog cuddled snugly against his chest. The dog seemed to be secured in a baby sling or harness. The pair smiled gluttonously, without regard for bugs in their teeth. The sun was bright and warm that day, but the November ticker tape parade of red and yellow leaves also swirled. And, though dry, the sky also growled with concrete gray walls. Nothing matched exactly.

In that brief moment that this stranger and his deliriously happy passenger threaded through the four-way stop sign, I was struck by all the contradictions. All the contrasts. None of him was predictable or sensible, not in the conventional ways of style and category, but he was bursting with that in-the-moment kind of life pleasure. The natural scene itself was also such a wild mix of color and texture, temperature and emotion, I knew the seasons were trading for good. But it was all perfectly wonderful.

Then for the rest of the day my eyes were magnetized for more of this particular kind of beauty. Contrast, contradiction, unexpected pairings that produce harmony.

At the doctor’s office I saw a woman wearing pale, bejeweled sandals with dark green corduroy pants and a thick, braidy sweater. She was playing on her phone that was encased with a seashell motif. At the grocery store I saw an older gentleman carrying only a pair of apples and something small in a box. He was thin but with a pot belly, speed walking alertly, smiling, and yielded graciously to me as I pushed my cart of Thanksgiving feast supplies. His once red t-shirt had a faded message on it. His eye glasses looked inexpensive but were well polished. With all of this, we wore suit pants.

Back home, I keyed in on more brightly colored tree leaves and more of that gray but still illuminated sky. My garden, that day, still burst with pink flowers and yellow roses but also seemed frayed at the edges, the height of summer all exhausted and mellowing.

I searched my friends group in my mind and discovered people who fit no mold at all, lovely men and women who live life on their own terms, even if not always in such visible ways as the preppy on the Harley taking his tiny pup for a joy ride. I see them balancing intense, left brained careers with equally intense creative pursuits. They paint and make music and write spreadsheets and lead board meetings. My community is overflowing with contradictions, and I love it. All that happy, chaotic harmony. Every person, dancing to the beat of his or her own drum, is contributing to music that thrums and pulses and fills the air in beautiful, unorchestrated ways.

*long live disco balls & cactus*

I love to visit homes containing seven or eight or twenty styles of art. I love to sit at a table encircled by people of varying faiths and political leanings, speaking in as many accents or (better yet!) languages. I love fashion choices that are startling at first then deeply intriguing and flat out adorable. No fear. I love to grow my own garden with soft pinks, careless reds, and spicy oranges all near each other, ignoring traditional color wheels if the result is pleasing. This also applies to the scale of plants. If I like it, even if it is bizarre like Mexican petunia next to boxwood, I get to grow it. Because every day when I see that it makes me smile. I love tiny animals who are the boldest and beasty ones who are the gentlest.

*reigning queen of kicking rambunctious puppies*
*the fiercest gander who ever lived*
*the biggest, sweetest boy*

I love holidays jam packed with traditions from myriad backgrounds, every meal and every gathering heavily seasoned with personal meaning for somebody. No robotic habits here, but emotional connections that defy logic.

I love menus planned for pleasure, not adherence. And I love to serve canned cranberry jelly, still in the shape of its can please and thank you, in my fanciest cut glass antique dish. I love Christmas trees decorated for joy more than display. I love pajamas that are both sexy and comfortable, whenever possible, and family schedules with lots and lots of white space for filling (or not filling) as whims arise. I love it all, and I love it all at once too.

*my sibs are the most fun*
*make stuff for no reason*
*can’t buy what I want because it’s free*

The feeling and flavor that overwhelmed me that morning, seeing that complicated preppy-Harley guy and his free spirited, miniscule pup, reminded me of how beautifully complex the world is and how I really, really like it that way. If anyone is paying attention to your details, to the vibrations you are emitting to the Universe, I hope they are inspired by what they see. But more importantly, I hope you are participating in a collective kind of music that is real to you and feels good. Tune into what you want, what you like. Notice it whenever you can, and enjoy it, rejoice in it. Magnify it. It doesn’t have to match anyone else. In fact, the less you match the better. The resulting life gumbo is so good. We are invited to enjoy the freedom of choice and contradiction.

Then notice that this same invitation extends to the brackish water of your emotional, spiritual life. We are all, almost constantly, swimming in a terrifying mix of joy and grief and safety and suspense. All of it at once, together, rarely cordoned off. Noticing the cold water or the salty tears is necessary; but never despair and do not fear drowning. Notice, too, the warm water and the fresh water, and just swim and float. Trust that relief always comes.

How plain and unstimulating would a predictable scene be, and how flat would a life be without challenges and surprises.

May freedom and a touch of chaos reign.

XOXOXOXO

1 Comment
Filed Under: UncategorizedTagged: carpediem, choose joy, faith, thinky stuff. spirituality

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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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Lazy W Happenings Lately

  • her second mother’s day May 10, 2025
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"Edit your life freely and ruthlessly. It's your masterpiece after all." ~Nathan W. Morris

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