Lazy W Marie

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

she chose joy

Some people have an inner mechanism, like a filtering system, that enables them to see the world more joyfully. It is more than being able to focus on the silver linings; it is more like a universal translator that helps them automatically interpret challenges as opportunities and detours as excursions into unknown, and most likely adventurous, territory. I don’t know whether these people are more often born with such a guidance system or whether they develop it over time, but I definitely recognize them when we meet. Kori McKinney Wilson is one of these people. The great covid pandemic of 2020 had nothing on her ability to reclaim a brand new version of order from chaos. Please enjoy her story.

Toward the end of January, 2020, Kori and her family of five joined their extended family for a big cruise vacation. The group numbered fifteen people in total, and it was their first such adventure together. They had lots of fun and were only barely aware of corona virus news updates, thinking at that time it was akin to SARS and not likely to be a problem in the Unites States.

Several weeks later, the news was accelerating. Kori remembers huddling at her seventeen year old daughter’s soccer game, irritated by the cold early spring weather. Noting her mood toward the weather would almost haunt her later, because soon enough she would be yearning for gatherings with friends and strangers, no matter the weather.

Kori is a dental hygienist by trade. On a Thursday afternoon in late March, 2020, as the office was emptying for the weekend, her boss told everyone to expect to shut down for a few weeks, but that they were waiting for more clear direction from the American Dental Association as well as Oklahoma leadership. Just hours later, they received word that the state was strongly encouraging shut downs but that the final decisions were up to each office. Kori’s dental office decided to close for at least two weeks, through April ninth. She remembers the pandemic feeling real at the end of those first two weeks. They were ultimately closed for a full seven weeks.

The first week of lockdown coincided with her kids’ spring break. Luke, Kaley, and Brennan were in the fourth, tenth, and eleventh grades last year, and skipping spring break led to skipping sports and friends and part time work, too. The Wilson family is a tight knit group, though, so under their parents’ leadership everyone managed to sink in and enjoy it all. They were especially thankful that the weather improved, as it allowed for family hikes at the Wichita Mountains and other outings. Kori also started a daily ritual of drinking her coffee outside on the patio, often urging her husband of 23 years to join her, and this was just the beginning of her beautiful intentionality during pandemic.

The Wilsons’ initial shopping trip for lockdown happened during their second week at home, when Kori realized it was all going to last much longer than anyone expected. She is not a saver or collector by nature; she tends to only keep on hand what they will need immediately and doesn’t mind shopping in small, frequent bursts. This new environment required a 180 degree turnaround in strategy to meet her family’s needs. Even then, she was cautious of buying too much of anything at once, worried that other people would be unable to find enough. She settled on about a three week supply of groceries and goods, leaning on an actual written inventory of everything in their pantry and deep freeze. She wrote a specific plan of what they would eat and shopped accordingly. They stuck to this plan for several weeks, exhausting the bottom of the meat supply even to experiment with rabbit meat gifted from a farming friend, and were able to make just small weekly shopping trips to add to their creative non perishable menu.

Happily, Kori’s enthusiastic and comprehensive menu plan was well received. Much to her delight, the kids even approved of ham hocks and split pea soup! Her family of five sat down for a home cooked dinner every single evening for six weeks solid, and they loved it. Additionally, the kids were enlisted to help cook and found themselves on a wonderful learning curve in the kitchen. Over time, their Dad Mike included grilling lessons, too.

Kori described their sudden glut of time at home like the most wonderful kind of culture shock. They were so used to a busy sports schedule and hectic, overlapping social calendar, all of which was fulfilling, but this was a welcome pace. They all not only loved each other; they liked each other. They enjoyed each other’s company and really hunkered down with a sense of affection and adventure.

When it became evident that the kids would have quite a bit of extra time at their disposal for the foreseeable future, Kori seized the chance to amplify their life experiences and supplement their curriculum. She brainstormed a series of home-centered projects that did more than fill the time; they helped her children chase after learning experiences they could never indulge in at school. The list included meal prep, woodworking and painting, gardening, and physical fitness and leadership. They also took time to learn more deeply about social issues, taking cues from so many weighty current events last year and fantastic docu-series available online. She saw the “finality” of her older kids growing up but also the glittering opportunities of being together now.

They tackled woodworking projects which Mom designed. Dad taught them to use power tools safely, they did the building themselves, and they sanded and painted their finished products.

They all learned to cook full family meals, and Brennan especially discovered a new level of appreciation for the planning and effort that feat requires. They posted their weekly menu to Facebook and enjoyed both encouragements along the way as well as an incoming flood of recipe suggestions, things they “just have to try.” Kori is flirting with the idea of printing the recipes they tried into a “Quarantine Meals” family scrapbook for the kids.

They designed a raised garden bed and did all the studying to understand ecosystems, carbon emission, photosynthesis, and more, before growing their own vegetables. They hauled dirt, propagated their own seeds, and tended everything. This project turned out to be one of Kori’s personal favorites, “because everybody was involved in it,” and she expects to continue growing a garden together every year.

To keep everyone physically active in the great vacuum of team sports, Kori enlisted the older two kids to design a five-week fitness regimen for everyone. The whole family joined in all the workouts! “It was good for them,” she said cheerfully. Kori and Mike were pleased to discover that while the kids outdid them in all other activities, they had more stamina with the jump rope than the younger generation, ha!

The more I heard about their ongoing adventures, the more I see how much of a gift this entire year has been for their family. She may have jokingly called it “Jesus Take the Wheel Home School by Kori,” but that implies desperation she just does not seem to possess. The rhythm and momentum she kept was clearly joyful. Indulgent. Life-affirming.

Her husband Mike works for the FAA and had already been keeping remote office hours, so having a full house was a small adjustment for him during work hours. But overall the family thrived. They also had no problem wearing masks on the few occasions they left the house. Kori’s perspective on masks as a dental hygienist means she wore them almost by instinct, even before they were mandated. She did express compassion for people who maybe found masks too uncomfortable to wear outdoors in the heat of Oklahoma summer.

The more Kori and I chatted, the less I was surprised to hear that she didn’t really have a stress snack. It almost sounded like a foreign concept to her when I asked about it! She expressed with total believability that she has “felt lucky and healthy together, content.” No need for stress snacks.

Managing school in the midst of a pandemic was challenging, but Kori’s kids all rose to the occasion, as did the Moore school system where they attend. Brennan and Kaley, then junior and sophomore, found solo, home based academics easier in some ways. They are both naturally good self managers, and the school administration had established a grades freeze that prevented anyone’s average form slipping too far (not that they needed that insurance). The work they did from home was almost optional, but they still did it, allowing Kori to take a more passive approach with supervising them. It all served to condition them both for this school year. Kori was excited to share that Brennan and Kaley have now plunged into concurrent enrollment at the nearby community college and Brennan has earned a two year scholarship. Congratulations!

Luke, in fourth grade when pandemic hit, also benefitted from the insurance of a grades freeze but was more enmeshed in a structured curriculum than his older siblings. The teachers worked hard to quickly produce thick packets for six weeks’ worth of learning at a time. They also coordinated weekly Zoom meetings, both required and optional. It was a lot for a ten year old to manage, but he had all the help he needed at home and has done well every step of the way.

Kori is thankful for how the schools responded to the time crunch, the safety concerns, and the unique challenges the kids faced last year. This year, she is impressed by the investments being made for air filtration, the detailed efforts everyone continues to make to keep kids in pods and at a reasonable physical distance, and more. All three kids are back in the classroom now, they feel safe, and they are happy to be with their friends at least a little bit.

Limited socializing last year affected the entire family. They took quarantining seriously and were judicious about the few times they did choose to see people in small gatherings or outdoors, maybe occasionally regretting a choice based on what they learned after the fact about other people’s exposure, etc. The same dilemmas many of us have faced. The kids missed their friends. It was perhaps hardest on Brennan, who is normally always on the go. Kaley coped with the solitude a little better, slipping “into her element,” at least for the first month. She is an avid reader and is good at setting a variety of goals for herself, so she made good use of the hours and days. Luke, the youngest, was at that perfect age to truly enjoy the whole family being home together. By the end of summer, Kori said, he was ready to see his friends again.

Mike and Kori missed their friends, too, and they simply craved time with a variety of loved ones. They have close couples-friends who had to be extraordinarily careful because of the vulnerable, elderly family members in their care. The Wilsons also have friends with whom they had one get together last May but not since, and that feels especially strange because those people only live ten minutes away. Mike’s best friend lives next door, and their relationship has had to adjust. Kori had reconnected with friends from school and had fun with her best friend, a memorable girls’ day in Midtown OKC, visiting Factory Obscura and more, just before shut downs. Last summer was supposed to be their summer of fun. They all had such “grandiose plans,” as Kori called them, “then the world shut down.”

I noticed a strong sense of steady confidence as Kori described all of these meaningful friendships and the outings they skipped. She never once called it a loss, only described it as a kind of pause. Like she and Mike had perspective from the beginning that the time apart was temporary. I find that absolutely stunning, in the best way. So many of us have marinated in grief ahead of time you know?

The Wilsons’ efforts to stay healthy paid off. They all stayed covid-free until later this March, when their oldest son tested positive for the virus as he was being admitted for knee surgery. His symptoms were minor and allergy like, and thankfully they resolved quickly; but Kori made him quarantine for a few days, in his bedroom away from the family. He couldn’t believe that, ha! When he felt good enough to go out again, he drove himself to get tested. He was virus free again, and yes, his knee surgery was successful.

One of the most fruitful learning adventures they took together might have been the ongoing discussions about politics, social issues, and history. Among other things, Kori pressed her oldest two children to watch RGB and learn more about Thurgood Marshall. They explored complex social and racial issues and generally reinforced an open family dialog about difficult topics. She talked to me about how she and Mike wanted their kids to learn to use their own voices. They “liked to be on the same page, but you can come to your own opinions.” They worked all year, using current events in the news, to teach the kids to have an ever widening world view. “Your experience isn’t everyone’s experience,” they tried to reinforce. It felt like something much better than tolerance; it felt to me like grassroots love for your neighbors, both seen and unseen.

Kori and I spoke on the phone one year and two weeks after the cancelled spring break that started it all. Mike has not returned to the FFA building yet, but Kori has been back at the dentist’s office for several months, and the kids are now back at school. Everyone is healthy and happy, on their way to being fully vaccinated, and living life fully in this chapter.

I asked what new habits and rhythms might carry over into post-pandemic life. There is a family consensus that life is returning to normal, getting busier in good ways, but Kori was happy to share that they are still enjoying movie and game nights. Maybe not as many as during pandemic, but they had gotten a little burned out on those anyway, ha! Still, they are definitely enjoying more than before. They make time for each other now and realize how precious and genuinely fun it is. The kids continue to request family dinners, too, sometimes including Brennan’s new girlfriend. They have all come full circle back to soccer games, part time jobs, and some socializing.

For such a beautiful, life filled year, I felt wistful on Kori’s behalf, noticing that it was mostly over. I asked her, will she miss it? “No…” she answered softly. I could hear the honest, wide eyed shrug in her voice. “I am grateful for the moment, you know? Life changes. That was an opportunity, that’s what made it special. We all walked away with something.” She went on to reinforce the specialness of their year in pandemic without ever sounding overly sentimental, just happy and nourished.

Wow. This stranger on the phone summoned choking tears into my throat.

Her projects and seize the day attitude gave me energy. Her sincerity about accepting sudden blessings gave me peace. Everything is temporary. The hard, the wonderful, the beautiful, the disappointing. And what is true for one family does not take away from what is true for another.

“Our family is in a good state of mind.”
~Kori McKinney Wilson
XOXOXOXO

How beautiful.

stress management, farm abundance, & the real vibrancy of love

Staycation Day Two: We reclaimed the whole point of being off work.

It almost never fails, that every time we anticipate a good relaxing stretch of days, something happens to jam up our chi. Sometimes it’s one huge crisis; other times it is the cumulative tide of smaller problems. I know this is universal. But this year, stress has been too damaging and joyful miracles too abundant for us to sit idly by and just allow the negative inertia to win. I mean, really, we should never allow it to win, right? But it happens. Stress is sneaky. But we are smarter and more resilient than everything that comes against us.

Ok, here’s the thing: Our air conditioning unit had some kind of catastrophic failure. Also, I skipped running some miles thinking that’s what my husband wanted (I was wrong), and it put me in a weird mood. Then he got chased by wasps. Three dumb things in a row, ok?

Happily, the burst open fly trap from last night is a distant memory, so the deck and pool area are no longer stinky. (And Little Lady Marigold has forgiven us wholesale, a fact she proved with an extra dramatic blaaaa-eeehhh at breakfast). But we are pretty accustomed to enjoying all the outdoor activities that cause heatstroke (swimming, gardening, playing in the car shop, chasing Klaus), if only so that we might retreat to the chilly, concrete-floored living room and watch a movie together. So we called a guy. We know a guy.

We called the guy then had an open, honest, lovely heart to heart conversation about not letting stress win and about transparent about what we need day to day, and we treated ourselves to lunch from Braum’s.

Now we wait.

My groom and I will soon have a cold house again.

So then we will go outside again, obviously. And he will promptly get chased by wasps. Again. You know how they say that the Universe continues to send you the same lesson repeatedly until you learn it? It’s more true than anything I know.

Mindset and intention matter.

The oregano and Rose of Sharon are especially magnetic to bumblebees. All day every day, the chubby, fuzzy creatures hover and dive noisily among the blossoms, reminding me that the garden is really theirs. The “High Biscuits,” as my girls used to call them, are stunning at the edge of the shade garden. Zinnia and okra seeds I planted a few days ago have already sprouted. I keep harvesting squash and tomatoes, fruits I could barely see a few hours before. The hens are happy to produce eggs, still, despite the heat.

It’s a thrilling time to live on a small farm.

Even the pond is full to it banks and wildly alive! Mama Goose and Johnny Cash, our two South African geese, swim gently like swans then run up the greenbelt of the middle field then feast on bugs in the garden then descend to swim again. They have wild visitors that include a blue heron and a small flock of white egrets. The horses take their fly spray contentedly, and the llamas are thankfully too relaxed to wage battle. Frogs, snakes, dragonflies, and spiders must number in the millions this year.

I love that our afternoons are too bone meltingly hot and humid to move quickly. The pace helps me see things.

This popped up in my Facebook memories from last summer:

Love is an actual cosmic power.
It is THE power.
Love overshadows everything else.
It’s not a flimsy, meek, gentle, water colored Victorian notion of hope for better days or a feeble turnaround.
Love is a loud, smiling, terrifying, throbbing neon bulldozer that, once unleashed, mows down every obstacle and razes mountains.
Love heals diseased relationships and connects people across oceans of separation, in unseen and truly mystical ways. Love provides for physical needs in ways that cannot be explained.
Love can be gentle, but it is never weak.
Love is the root of every good and beautiful thing, and it is the ultimate end of all difficulty too.
If you feel like love is just a lottery ticket, a slim chance at some kind of emotional or circumstantial lottery in life, try thinking more concretely. Think of Love as what encompasses EVERYTHING and ALL of your loved ones.
Trust all of that pulsing energy because it is just waiting to prove itself, for your sake.

Happy Sunday, friends!

our easy day off & freedom is a gift we choose to accept

Friday, July 3, 2020. Quarantine Day #111.

State offices are closed today, but our bodies don’t know that, so we woke naturally up at 5:13 a.m. Handsome, Shepp, and I spent the next two hours taking in the day slowly. We drank our coffee, watched cartoons, explored the gardens, and watered and fed the animals. Little Lady Marigold, our new sheep, made another good attempt to meet me at her breakfast bowl. She always backs off at the last second, but every day the distance shrinks. I love her slotted pupils, stick-straight legs, and puffy, matted fleece.

Temperatures were still mild in the early hours, mid seventies, and the skies were painterly blue and white. Our first harvest of the day was five eggs, 2 bright yellow squash, seven heavy tomatoes, and a few cups of ripe blackberries. There is always a second harvest in the afternoon.

Mid-morning I grabbed a 5 mile progression run on the treadmill (felt great, zero pain!) and half an hour in the gym. Meanwhile Handsome played around with the art of motorcycle maintenance. I cannot vouch for his Zen, though, because apparently my little green Honda had been sitting too long and now has a fuel line gummed up. Did I ever tell you that I got my motorcycle license? It is one of the biggest shocks of life, truly. Sometimes when I think about it I start sweating and trembling spontaneously.

We decided to break some monotony and take a short drive to Wellston, Oklahoma, just under an hour away. There is a locally famous barbecue stand there, an outdoor restaurant, really, that serves food from an old school bus.

We enjoyed the steamy drive in a topless car but declined to stop and eat because the parking lot was at capacity, swarming with people. We are distancing pretty strictly still, so that was a hard pass. Instead, we drove and drove, loving the sunshine and the undulating country roads flanked by corn fields, hay meadows neatly adorned with giant round bales, and tiny, almost delicate cemeteries. We accidentally joined up with Memorial road where it suddenly becomes heavy gravel, so we slowed way down. The careful pace allowed me to see the roadside meadows better: Vitex and Indian tobacco growing wild. Pecan and Red Bud saplings wilting in the heat. Thick ornamental grasses, tickseed, and Virginia Creeper, all tangled up and blissfully unaware of pandemic. I soaked up the rural house gardens when they appeared. Mostly orange day lilies and pink crepe myrtle bushes. I imagine they are generational perennials.

Back home again, we ate regular food from our well stocked kitchen and were perfectly happy, ha! The heat and humidity returned and our work was caught up, so we spent part of our afternoon in the pool and on the deck.

I finished reading Cold Mountain, the Civil War novel that many people remember as the movie with Nicole Kidman and Jude Law. The book is beautifully written, a weirdly motivating read if you like manual labor and general human suffering, or the perseverance through suffering. And it is so humbling. The circumstances people can survive, it just amazes and inspires me.

“That’s just pain, she said. It goes eventually. And when it’s gone, there’s no lasting memory. Not the worst of it, anyway. It fades. Our minds aren’t made to hold on to the particulars of pain the way we do bliss. It’s a gift God gives us, a sign of His care for us.” ~Charles Frazier, Cold Mountain

“Waste not thy liberty.” One of my all time favorite, short and sweet mantras. Tomorrow is Independence Day. I have been thinking a lot about freedom lately, about being free, about being set free from all kinds of earthly bondage.

As a thought experiment lately, every time I catch myself saying or thinking that I have to do something, my goal is to replace it with I get to do something. It’s a small but powerful word swap. I have been liberated and set free from so many things, so many hardships and limitations, so much silencing, so many real fears. Not only am I free in the political or social sense; but more importantly I am free spiritually, psychologically, and emotionally, so long as I continue to choose that state of living. My thoughts and habits can either cultivate or surrender this gift every day.

Liberty is not the wild absence of discipline; in fact being free invites a more authentic version of self rule. Being free from outside controls requires and encourages us to set our own controls, some that make sense and are harmonious with our values and circumstances. At least that’s how I see it.

Okay I hope you are well, thank you for reading! I also hope we have popcorn for dinner soon and watch a movie.

One more thing, what do you think would happen to a person’s body if she were to only eat watermelon and cashews? I mean, mostly those two things?

“I am full of freedom.”
~Kellie Sperry
(I owe you this story soon, friends!)
XOXOXOXO

reeling from the KFOR “remarkable woman” fun

Several years ago, Handsome and I attended an awards dinner where my sweet Dad was being honored by his Knights of Columbus peers. After an effusive and much deserved welcome speech, the emcee invited Dad to the front and handed him the mic. Dad smirked while everyone applauded, then he said in his perfectly deadpan voice, “I had a speech written but seem to have left it at home.” Then, pretending to pat down his own pockets and turn to look behind himself, he shrugged one shoulder and actually left the stage. Dad rejoined the family with exactly the same smile he wears when launching a spectacular knee-grabber. The crowd exploded into laughter and applauded again, because of course this is exactly how Joe Dunaway would accept an award. I decided then and there, that if I ever won anything I would do something equally clever and evident of such charming humility. Such unbelievable arrogance to not have a speech! It turns out that Dad is a tough act to follow in every way, including this.

You guys, I have not even won anything, but I have so much to say! You all have poured out such love that I am soggy from it. Warm and pliable and smiling, pulsing from every syllable you have arrowed my way. My heart is full, is what I am trying to say. The magic here is that literally every single person who has expressed love and friendship to me holds a vital space in my heart. One evening as my husband read to me some names and notes that I had not heard from personally, I could not stop crying. How wonderful and bizarre to feel so connected. Please know that I have always felt this way toward you. My life is brimming with fascinating people. Inspiring, hard working, generous, amazing people. You all set templates for me constantly.

Dad calls this situation a “Mutual Admiration Society.”

Thank you to all of our friends and family who conspired with Handsome to include me in this fun nomination. I thank you truly both for the words you shared weeks ago (covertly, ha!), and I thank you truly for the tidal wave of love notes you have been pressing here since. Your affection and support have landed squarely in my heart, and I am letting it all sink in deeply. It will not go to waste.

Forgive me, though, if every time
someone quips, “you’re famous!”
I instantly think “don’t you mean INFAMOUS”
and do the Three Amigos dance in my mind. Okay.

we are INFAMOUS

Thank you, Ali Meyer, for your listening heart. Thank you for your talented storytelling and your discretion. I aspire to your skillful, poetic brevity. You and Travis helped us feel seen in the best ways, and we hope you and your families feel welcome at the farm always.

Thank you to my sister Angela for sharing her time to do an interview and for her immense love. I know how lucky I am to have her as a friend.

Thank you to Handsome for being the world’s most supportive and most protective husband, period. He just will not allow anything but love and freedom and safety here, and for that I am eternally grateful. And thank you to his colleagues, our friends, who were in on this.

Now that the story has aired, we feel compelled and excited to share more of our Lazy W Family Outreach stories. So far we have just flown under the radar with hints and glimpses. It’s all a relatively fresh undertaking and one which we are determined to keep fluid and responsive month to month, season to season. But right now feels like a good and strong time to open up. I hope you’ll follow along with that! Feel free to join conversations both here and on our Facebook pages (here is the blog page). We will be posting fresh new community events soon.

One more thing, friends, before we all get sleepy. I am thrilled to be meeting so many new Oklahoma readers! I think you are all from Oklahoma? Thank you for introducing yourselves and for leaving me notes here and in messages. I am having fun contacting everyone slowly. Thank you for understanding that I do this between chores and running and cooking, ha!

Speaking of chores (last thing, promise), I do not want to alarm you, but we collected thirty eight eggs over the past twenty four hours. Thirty-eight!! Also? The frogs have come out of  hibernation and the roses are all breaking dormancy. The countdown to true spring is gaining momentum.

Happy waxing moon indeed.

“UBUNTU: I am because we are.”
African philosophy
XOXOXOXO

threshold magic

Seasonal thresholds always excite me. The shift in energy and the changing scenery, both in nature and in life, are powerful stimulants.  This recent slice of days, this threshold between summer and fall, has been brackish and wonderful. A stained glass window of work and gardens, of romance and books and socializing. I am smitten all over again, and autumn hasn’t taken hold yet.

On the very last day of meteorological summer we woke up early and decided with measured reluctance to close the pool. The chlorinated water had finally turned cold and cloudy. We gave thanks for a truly gorgeous, extra long summer then stretched the giant, crunching plastic blanket across and around the metal pool frame. We threaded the steel cord through the grommets, tightened it, and sighed audibly. The task itself was pretty easy, but saying goodbye to swimming season was less so.

Later that day we joined friends and strangers at Savory Spice Shop in OKC for their annual pie baking contest, definitely a seasonal treat and tradition worth keeping. The wonderful assault of fragrances aimed my heart straight at the best of autumn. Cinnamon! Nutmeg! Apples! Perfect, flaky crusts of every variety! Pecans!  My amazing friend Kellie won with her perfect entry of Bonaffee Pie, banana and caramel confection. Heaven in a pie plate.

 This past weekend, Handsome and I attended a storytelling event called “Ricochet,” in Oklahoma City. It was hosted by our friends Shanna and Ryan McKinley. I shared with a room full of strangers a pretty ridiculous true story of my own and thoroughly enjoyed hearing all the other stories. So fun! The recording will be on Ryan’s podcast and I’ll share it when it’s live!

We also hosted another community painting event in the midst of some intermittent sun showers. The afternoon was pastel and mild and had a suspenseful, magical quality. We enjoyed a more intimate group than last time and a smaller meal, too. The sun sank just as we were cleaning up, casting golden light on the easels as if that night was the first time a true Golden Hour had ever happened. Things felt weirdly perfect for those transitional days.

Things here are neither crisp nor cool, not yet, but at least we are no longer battling heat advisories. This kind of humidity is manageable when not in triple digits, ha. And around midnight tonight a much anticipated cool front just might blow across our beautiful state. Already the normally deafening frog song has quieted. Where did they go?

Fresh mums and pansies are sneaking into my flower beds, making friends with summertime’s zinnias, basil, and cannas. Tomatoes are still producing, and newly planted seeds have sprouted into tiny kales and rainbow chard plants. I haven’t bought any decorative pumpkins yet, but I have scooped up a few small green watermelons from the garden, just to display, knowing they don’t have enough time to ripen before our first frost. They kind of look like little gourds. Threshold gardening, friends.  It’s a thing.

Change is happening. Slowly and more slowly still, then all at once. We just have to breathe deeply and notice it all. Every day.

“See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
and streams in the wasteland.”
– Isaiah 43:19

Thanks to my local running friend Joe for sharing the above scripture at a most perfect moment for me. Autumn is its own elegant, wondrous time of renewal. Different than springtime. Mysterious and powerful. It’s good to be excited about it.