Lazy W Marie

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

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an autumn afternoon in the garden with Kindergarten

October 3, 2023

We sat in the shade with half a dozen bright eyed Kindergarteners, just three women and six children that day. The October afternoon was warm and breezy, still more summer than fall, and I found myself wishing I had brought cold drinks for everyone.

The day’s lesson was about seeds and how they relate to flowers and, ultimately, the foods they become. I passed around a huge, heavy, bright orange pumpkin and several pumpkin blossoms, deep yellow and frilly, impossibly related to that massive fruit. The kids touched and sniffed and made sweet, cooing, observant sounds, their immense brown eyes fixed alternately on everything they held and then on me. I passed around stems of tomato plants, each loaded with tiny, yellow, star shaped flowers. I sliced open a few juicy tomatoes and showed them the almost imperceptible white seeds inside. We examined purple, leathery hyacinth bean pods, which they needed some encouragement to tear. The beans inside were reliably glossy black with perfect white spines. Gorgeous tuxedo gifts. I watched to make sure no one ate one, ha! But they only rolled the treasures around in their curious hands.

We scrunched the papery crumples of zinnia seed heads and shared a bouquet of those Technicolor flowers then moved on to tomatillos, which are so fun to de-husk. Tiny fingers are adept at peeling quietly, and they had fun doing it. One brave little boy volunteered to manage the Tithonia seed heads, which our fair reader may already know are famously stout and prickly when dried.

((autumn garden collection, 2023))

As the kids explored and absorbed the many details of seeing, touching, smelling, and weighing the various seeds and flowers and their final growing products, their teacher encouraged them to more fully describe everything. She asked them beautifully precise but open ended questions that produced long, effusive answers in broken, cheerful English. I almost cried a few times, and I am not sure why. Maybe it was just the pure joy of seeing such young, innocent children enjoying nature. Maybe it was the simple intimacy of so few people sitting quietly in the shade. Maybe it was the memory of being in the garden with my own girls, now twenty years past, or the possible future thrill of sitting with bilingual grandchildren, in the garden, talking about food and flowers and watching them learn everything about this immense, gorgeous world.

After a little while in the shade, we wandered over to a collection of raised beds to plant new seeds. The students used wooden Popsicle sticks to carve little furrows in the soil. They scattered the miniscule seeds, sometimes with impressive focus and sometimes with understandable abandon. Then they watered. Oh my heart. If we thought that trading roly-polies and earthworms was their favorite garden activity last week, it is only because last week we didn’t have time to do the watering. The plastic watering cans are almost half as big as many of their five year old selves. And filled with water, those had to be some of the heaviest burdens these cuties had ever carried. But not one of the kids shrank from the task. They heaved and tottered and limped from hose to bed, sploshing and sprinkling as they went. A few exclaimed and squealed about their wet school uniforms, but overall the soundtrack was giggling. Soft laughter backed by sunshine and new experiences.

We made our way through the tasks at hand and talked about how important water is for the plants and seeds to grow and be happy. The kids connected easily with the idea of being thirsty then feeling refreshed by a glass of water. One little girl named Stephanie promptly refilled her plastic can and struggled over to a kale leftover from last season. She said affectionately, almost in a whisper, “There now she’s having a drink.” The kale was taller than her, yet she insisted on watering it from as high up the green, ruffled tower as she could manage, not at ground level. She walked away soaking wet and smiling ear to ear.

We had time to marvel at some expired sunflowers, towering toward the clouds and nodding like they were asleep, dried stalks as thick as my wrist. I had the kids hold their hands out like bowls and scraped my thumbnails against the sunflowers’ sky bound faces. Dusty seeds poured out like a spell into their waiting hands, and because the lesson was all about seeds and seed planting, they knew exactly what to do. “I need my little stick!” Amy said with some urgency, her long black braids flying as she looked left and right, and when she found her tool she got right to work carving a place for those seeds. Then Stephanie watered them.

How beautiful it all is. The huge squash blossoms that become massive, flavorful, vitamin rich pumpkins. The clusters of tiny yellow flowers that, with some water and sunshine and time, become a string of versatile, delicious tomatoes. Beans! All that protein and beauty wrapped in such dense, hard little packages. Flowers for beautifying and feeding. Children for teaching and nurturing and loving.

I have been thinking more and more about the world of flowers and vegetables, all the same, fascinating photosynthesis and so much beauty and purpose. Food for the birds and pollinators, definitely, but also, beauty as a purpose in and of itself.

All kinds of flowers use their multi-faceted beauty to draw in their needed audiences. We know about the birds and the bees and how they are attracted to colors and flavors that suit them so they can get on with the business of pollination and propagation, etcetera. But this lovely afternoon with the Kindergarteners reminded me that people are included in this symbiosis, too. Plants draw us in with their beauty, whether we are conscious of it or not. Their colors and fragrances, the never ending variety of shapes and patterns and textures, all of it woos us and bring us close enough to see them face to face. Close enough to understand them better and tend to their needs so they can tend ours. What a miraculous relationship.

I believe that every time a young child experiences nature up close like that, the world is made better, safer, more aligned with its original design. Life for that boy or girl instantly gains potential for greater enjoyment, better mental and physical health, and deeper artistic experiences. And life for their entire future purview might now hold more balance, more attention, and saner systematic choices. They could grow into better stewards than we will ever be.

((circa 1978))

We take care of what we love, after all, and it is so easy to fall in love with Nature. She sees to that.

1 Comment
Filed Under: UncategorizedTagged: children, community, gardening, gratitiude, OKMGA

plant health, mental health

March 24, 2023

Fourth grade Garden Club is always a delight. Every time we gather, the kids inspire belly laughs, and I appreciate gardening from a kids-eye-view all over again. On Facebook lately I have been sharing their zingers here and there, Kids Say the Darndest Things type stuff, but today I want to share something that encouraged me in a whole other sphere.

In addition to planting mustard seeds and checking the progress of our sweet peas and onions, the Garden Club lesson this week called for reviewing the basic needs of a plant and how those compare to what humans also need: Shelter (or location and soil), sunlight, fresh air, water, and nutrition.

Our lead volunteer displayed a potted plant that was pretty obviously neglected and canvassed the room for ideas about what might have gone wrong. A smattering of well informed answers rang out: “Not enough water!” “No nutrients!” “Couldn’t breathe!” Then, just as we were switching gears, at least four little voices from around the room suggested, “It’s depressed!” This garnered a mix of giggles and agreement. To be fair, every answer garners a mix of giggles and agreement. The whole group is constantly poised, for example, ready for one particular classmate to say, “My name is Christopher and I like chicken nuggets!” It literally slays every time. Christopher is jockeying for his own Netflix comedy special.

So. The moment passed quickly, as do so many high vibration moments in fourth grade, and I thought little of it until later in the afternoon. Seeds watered and tiny gloves and plastic spades shuffled away until our next meeting, the kids retreated to their regular classrooms. The Master Gardeners were debriefing a little bit. The school counselor happened to join us that day, and she seemed to enjoy hearing what we thought of our experience with her kids, who she clearly knows well and loves very much. I recounted the cuteness of their depression hypothesis for the ailing plant. She smiled, nodded, and gave some insight.

The school counselor has been teaching the entire student body ways to recognize that someone is not feeling their best, even when they don’t say so. They are learning to recognize signs of suffering in each other, simple clues that their friends or family members are not having their needs met. She has been offering them new vocabulary for describing how they feel, for understanding how others may feel, and for finding help from adults when needed. In other words, they are destigmatizing the human experience of not being okay; and they are building some pretty serious emotional literacy in the process. I was floored.

Just imagine the idea that a plant might be depressed. And imagine that meeting its basic physical needs will help it thrive again. Then apply that loving wisdom to human beings. Friends, can we please bookmark this topic for a longer conversation soon?

This curriculum would be amazing in any setting, and how much more thrilling to see the students naturally translate their knowledge over to plant life! Children tend to have an innate sense for wellness or discomfort, way earlier than they can verbalize it. This student body will have such an advantage in life.

I am so encouraged that this fresh new batch of humans is being armed with empathy, insight, and vocabulary to walk through the world more aware of themselves, more able to live kindly with others.

All of this plus, of course, the skills to grow a garden.

(How young is too young to recommend reading The Well Gardened Mind?)

Thanks for visiting this happy topic with me, friends! If fourth graders can learn to tend their emotional gardens, we can too. Hang in there.

tulip

Spring is here.
Every winter has its end.
xoxoxo

4 Comments
Filed Under: gardening, UncategorizedTagged: choose joy, gardening, mental health, OKMGA

a new spin on victory gardens

February 9, 2023

Our grandparents and great grandparents had wartime versions of Victory Gardens that served them well and helped their families thrive in uncertain times. The government endorsed these efforts and more before industrialized farming took over.

Lately we are hearing more and more about “Victory Gardens,” and I expect that will only gain momentum. For a variety of good reasons, everyone seems to be rediscovering the appeal of growing food and maybe tip-toeing into sustainability.

I love this!

But…

I also see the idea ballooning in such a way that people are becoming discouraged almost as soon as they feel inspired. Lots of people are also beginning their adventure from a place of absolute terror.

In an environment of fear over rising food prices and broken supply chains, it’s easy to let something as natural and beautiful as home gardening fall into the category of obligation, panic, and unrealistic standards for success.

Let’s fix that.

Right here, today, with just a mindset shift, let’s reset. Before we write a single letter to a single lawmaker or even before we spend one dollar on grow lights or join any online forums trying to learn it all in one day, let’s rethink what a Victory Garden could possibly be, for you.

OSU OKC teaching garden

Victory could look like adding beauty, fragrance, creativity, and dimension to your life. Victory could be saving money by growing fancy herbs and better ingredients, just a little bit here and there. Victory might include just occasionally stepping aside from the bizarre supply chains we have created for ourselves or cultivating small, meaningful skills that build and compound on themselves every year. No need to be perfectly successful on your first try. Everyone fails. A lot.

squash bugs
((hell hath no fury like a gardener overrun with these monsters))

Maybe victory for you would be making memories with your children and helping them see the natural world as a source of beauty and pleasure, and then one day helping them install their own gardens. Victory could be growing chemical free food more often, while at the same time rejecting stress and guilt over still buying average stuff from the store. It’s fine! Mix it up! You garden can be a supplement way before it is a substitute.

Victory is certainly discovering new ways to enhance your outdoor space, discovering a new hobby that keeps your body lifting and stretching and breathing fresh air, keeping your eyes off of electronics for a slice of each day. Victory is blanketing the earth with more trees, flowers, mulch, and foods. Victory is attracting and feeding all kinds of pollinators and wildlife. A very beautiful Victory Garden is one that encourages diversity.

Victory might be witnessing and immersing ourselves in the intricate, powerful, unstoppable Cycle of Life, participating in the seasons instead of complaining about them, being swept up in the life affirming wealth of daylight and the nitrogen rich snow and rainfall. Victory is learning to use kitchen scraps to feed your garden rather than overstuff the landfill. Victory is being part of the solution, in your own way, in your own time, with joy and freedom and confidence, rejecting fear.

I believe that working with fear, shame, or panic will not only kill your spirit but also at least stall your garden, maybe sabotage it completely. Your mindset matters. So get that sweet and level first. Rethink what a Victory Garden could be in your life, with your circumstances, needs, and cravings. What problems are you trying to solve? Where do your passions fall, naturally? There is a garden for you out there.

fresh homegrown watermelon oklahoma
((If 2013 was the Summer of Basil, then 2014 was the Summer of Watermelon…xoxo))

Please consider growing something that makes you authentically happy. I want you, if you haven’t already, to discover for what “Victory” means for you and how to use gardening to pursue that in uniquely pleasing ways.

((20 sunflowers for Jessica’s 20th birthday… she came home the next year))

There are hundreds of ways to be a Victory Gardener.

Far be it from me to discourage anyone from attempting a true, traditional, full-fledged Victory Garden that increases your family’s groceries and stocks your pantry for winter, the kind your great-grandmother probably mastered. That is certainly within reach if you have the space and the time to devote to it. And what a noble goal! But also, I believe these other, very different gardening goals are every bit as noble.

Bonus points, always, for not using chemicals on your garden. Double bonus points for using natural fertilizers and compost. Triple bonus points for sharing your bounty and staying true to yourself as you go.

Almost done with these thoughts.

My Grandpa gave me lots of gardening advice, and it was all good. But one thing bears repeating here:

“The best fertilizer is the gardener’s shadow.” Spend time in your growing spaces, however large or small or weird or formal they are. Just be present, frequently. Watch, enjoy, pay attention, apply your considerable knowledge and creative energy there. It needs you as much as you need it. It will reward you by growing you right alongside it.

Let’s release that weirdo pressure to be the same kind of gardener as anyone else, friends. Let’s drop the fear and panic and just grow something. Anything. Nature will support us.

Life began in a Garden,
and Victory is our birthright
XOXOX
O

2 Comments
Filed Under: UncategorizedTagged: choose joy, gardening, hobby fam, inspiration, love, miracles, tradition, victory gardens

end of season garden decisions & personal weirdness

August 10, 2022

This is a true story, but I don’t know whether to start at the end (is there ever really an end?) or at the beginning (where is the beginning, exactly?).

It’s about gardening, personal restraint, and fuzzy memory that is either regret or relief.

Yesterday after my run, I stopped to browse the clearance sale at Earl’s, my favorite gardening center. Their greenhouse shelves were thinner than usual, but what they still had was as healthy and beautiful as ever. I loaded my arms with a tray of fluffy, deeply hued coleus and lantana, all quart-sized beauties for a fraction of the original cost. I told myself they would look good until Halloween or later, the lantana would prossibly come back next year, and I could even take cuttings from the exotic coleus. A smart purchase, if I did say so myself.

Then I wandered over to the shrubs. My mouth watered over the long limbed climbing roses and thematic viburnum. I quizzed myself about some icy blue tinted evergreens and how good they would look with a red crepe myrtle. Then I saw forsythia.

Fall gardening is where my mind is for vegetables, but spring gardening is where my landscape needs a planning boost. As most gardeners would agree, forsythia could go a long way toward providing that. At just $19 per three-gallon shrub minus a 25% clearance discount, I could make a solid investment in springtime cheer for less than the cost of instant gratification coleus and lantana.

So I put all those plants back where I found them and walked around for another ten minutes, consulting myself and getting quite dizzy because I had just run fasted after a full morning of chores and was hungry.

I walked around the herb tables, tried to remember what else I was going to buy for the fall garden, and got in a little argument with myself about where I would even plant the forsythia if I bought them.

Eventually I walked to the cashier, empty handed. She recognized me.

“Oh hey, how are you? We haven’t seen you in a while!” That was true. I had not been in since early June. I’m not mad at them or anything! I just had enough plants and have been trying to limit extra driving. But I wasn’t mad at them!

We chatted like old friends as I confirmed the sale price of the forsythia, then I smiled, said thanks, and proceeded to leave without buying anything. This might have been the first time I ever visited Earl’s without buying anything.

This sweet girl’s bright smile fell all the way into a frown, and she furrowed her pretty brow. “Oh, ok? Bye?”

As if resisting the urge to buy plants wasn’t enough of a demonstration of free agency, I also resisted the urge to explain myself. I just walked toward the exit, free as a bird.

Well, almost.

As I pushed open the glass door I said in a way too loud, way too high pitched voice, “I’ll probably see you Friday or Saturday!”

“Oh ok!” She smiled again and beamed. I wanted to give her a hug, but I took my sweaty, hungry self to my car.

That was all yesterday mid-morning. I drove straight home and went about my day doing housework and planting fall greens, bathing Klaus, talking to the horses, coordinating weekend plans, etc. Normal Tuesday stuff.

Fast forward several hours.

In the early evening, our area enjoyed a sudden rainfall, and I thought to myself, “How nice that those coleus are getting a good drink already!”

To which I obviously replied, “No, you didn’t buy them!”

“Oh right.”

Handsome and I had a late and offbeat dinner, watched some tv, and slept soundly. Early this morning, I woke up in a slight panic, worried that I forgotten to plant the forsythia. Because, you may recall, I couldn’t decide where to plant them, so there was no clear image of them anywhere in the ground, in my mind.

“No, remember, you didn’t buy those either?”

“Oh right.”

So now I want them again. Who else will buy them, like they are puppies up for adoption?

The End, Probably.

3 Comments
Filed Under: UncategorizedTagged: choose joy, gardening

some garden & parenting advice

July 31, 2022

Jessica started her fall garden a couple of weeks ago, and my gardener-mama heart has been so full. Daily, we have been chatting all things soil, seeds, sun exposure, needed growing weeks, frost expectations, compost methods, you name it. This is a wonderful exchange for many reasons, as you can imagine. But something stands out.

Just a short bit into the thrust of her efforts, I caught myself praying that her fall harvest would be abundant. I asked God in kind of a pleading way to reward my baby’s efforts with lots of perfect vegetables and flowers, just all the good, beautiful rewards of hard work well done. I nearly begged Him to give her the “things” that would encourage her to keep going. Proof, you know?

((daily harvest, eggs already in the fridge xoxo))

He corrected me immediately.

The best rewards of a garden are not necessarily included in the harvest.

Gardening in its purest form is an ongoing cultivation of Life, a physical expression of art and science, a balance of need and provision between man and Earth and insects and God, of creativity and learning. Gardening is an adventure of trust in natural cycles. And much of this can only be learned by trial and, mostly, error. Lots of valuable error.

I know this.

So why would I deny Jess pleasure of learning on her own? Why would I swerve her away from the immense value of the journey itself?

My Grandpa Rex was a lifelong gardener and a lifelong student of, well, everything he could get his eyes or hands on. He was famous for being okay with not having all the answers, and yet I trusted him to always eventually find the answer and call me back. He trialed new ideas in his various gardens right up to the end of his gardening years, and he had wickedly specific reasons for even the paint he used on his shed. I think of that daily. I love how he never seemed to grow the same garden twice, and he thrived through it all. I want that for Jessica. Grandpa’s life showed the fruits of his labor far beyond his beautiful tomatoes and larkspur. I want that for her, too.

((little girl jess & not yet married Jess, always playing in the garden))

I will be here to guide her as much as I can, and to share my growing adventures alongside her own. And I will help her find good answers to her excellent questions. But I will not pray merely for a good harvest. Now, I am praying for a good experience, too. For good lessons and soul checks. For epiphanies and understandings, connections, realizations. I am praying for her good LIFE. It all matters.

Then, if she pays attention and has a little luck, she’ll get fresh produce, too.

Whew, I am thankful for that mild correction. He always knows what I need to hear.

“When we plant a seed,
we plant a narrative of future possibility.”
~Dr. Sue Stuart Smith
The Well Gardened Mind
XOXOXOXO

12 Comments
Filed Under: UncategorizedTagged: faith, gardening, love, motherhood, parenting, traditions

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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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