Lazy W Marie

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

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.

whoooooshing into summertime

On Friday morning I was blissing out, running east into the sun and against wind as hot and stiff as a blow dryer. It was the first day of summer and I luxuriated in every detail. I drank them in. Gnats perished on my glossy shin bones. Saltwater dripped into my mouth and eyes. I inhaled wildflower pollen and sunscreen and celebrated the heat rising up and pounding into my shoes. My work for the week was caught up, and we had a fun weekend planned. That previous night I had even dreamed of Jocelyn in that way that always reassures me she is okay and maybe even dreaming of me, too. I was smiling-with-my-heart-and-mouth-open while I ran, watching neither pace nor distance. Just happy to be on the go.

Then a whooshing, tttzzz-aaahhh sound assaulted my periphery from the left. The shadows were all behind me, and my music was a bit too loud, so all of my terrible reflexes ignited at once and I jumped mid stride, yelped, then screamed because my own yelp scared me, and all of this nearly caused an approaching female bicyclist to wreck. She wiggled on her two-wheeled vessel, gave her own little yelp, and stuck her muscular legs out to either side to regain balance. Her arms stiffened, and her helmeted head twisted to look back at me and, thankfully, laugh. We both started laughing so hard that I had to stop running to catch my breath. She pedaled away (almost) calmly down the trail.

About 45 minutes later my new BFF had changed direction and was headed toward me now. I saw her from a reasonable distance, started laughing again, quite involuntarily, and she also laughed a little but punctuated the whole exchange with a head tilt and Robert Duvall-style half-nod that said as plainly as any unspoken gesture can say, “Fool me once…”

Maybe she didn’t realize we were BFFs.

I regained my composure (mostly) and jogged in my very own lane past her, definitely surrendering the opportunity for some last minute eye contact. Still running into the glare, still lapping up my own sweat, still loving that so much hard work and consistent effort lately had brought us to the brink of a true summertime weekend. The luscious details are icing on a cake of Overall Life Satisfaction, and I am forever grateful.

I wish I could find this bicyclist and apologize for nearly wrecking her. And ask her if she is always so apt to being almost wrecked. I also want to know if she felt as happy that morning as I did, barring our near miss with asphalt. She definitely had that glow, that strong energy of Life Right This Minute, and I love thinking about it.

The End.