Lazy W Marie

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

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friday 5 at the farm, welcome summer!

It is Friday, June 20th, and I keep checking and rechecking the calendar to see if that’s right. We are smack dab at the front gates of Summertime in Oklahoma, friends. They are flung open. We have finally arrived, and we have fancy supreme guest passes and wristbands for all the best rides plus unlimited snacks till after hours and beyond. Welcome! Let’s DO THIS.

01. WEATHER Our beautiful state has received one million inches of rain since spring sprung a while back, and honestly we are all just equal parts thankful that drought is suddenly an ancient memory and also kind of sick of talking about the rain. Because, in case you don’t know, it’s been a lot more than just rain. It’s been a few solid months of severe weather, and we are worn thin, ha! But we’re simultaneously thankful, I’m sure you know that harmony song by heart, too. A few days ago the lush, pulsing heat and brilliant sunshine reappeared after so many dark weeks. The swimming pools are bathwater-warm, overnight. The days are now divided by task and errand according to the temperature and relative humidity, which are now both high from daybreak till after dark. It is everything we wish for in the bitter end of February, so I am pressing the details, even the sweaty, smothering ones, deeply into my skin and memory.

02. PEOPLE We recently filled the farm with about two dozen of Oklahoma’s finest state employees to celebrate their graduation from a leadership program. It was a gorgeous day, weather wise, and a gathering that filled our hearts. What in incredible gift to become acquainted with so many accomplished, ambitious, but still very down to earth Oklahomans. A few days after that we shut the gates tight in order to focus on two VIP guests, our Navy Nephews! My little brother has officially retired from a long and storied career as a navy officer, so he and his wife (one of my best friends) are putting down roots right here in Oklahoma. They sent their cute boys “home” a bit early so they could pack up their house and wrap up loose ends in Virginia. The boys and I had a fun day together! We swam, baked homemade chocolate chip cookies, tried to make those cookies into ice cream sandwiches, swam some more, made art, and all went forty percent feral. The teenager of the pair is saving to buy a car, so I paid him to mow one of the yard areas. He did a fantastic job! I hope it was just one of many summer days with them.

03. ANIMALS Our beloved Farmily has been coping well with the weather. The four leggeds have been feasting on green grass, but noone has been sick from it. They have all shed their winter coats, too, and the horses have farrier appointments (with my husband) coming soon. Rhett spends lots of time every day in the pond. Scarlett, when she is not in the mood to join him, stands on the bank and bellows for him to get OUT already. It’s so cute. He usually obeys her and can soon be spotted licking her face, neck, and back. The flock is somewhat diminished right now, just from old age, but we are still getting about four eggs per day from the nine hens. My youngest girl is eleven and still laying! I pump them all up so hard, to sure they know what a rock stars they are. Johnny Cash the elderly gentleman gander is hashtag-thriving. He swims constantly and supervises everyone like it’s his job. Because it is. Klaus is living his best life, too. His social calendar is actually richer and more complex than my own, ha! He plays with Charlie from next door pretty often, which he abslutely loves. You should see the way they smile when they see each other. He entertains family dogs whenever possible, and he has become accustomed to a one mile sniff-ari wth Max and Sadie a couple times per week, early morning please, before it gets hot. When he asks to go but we can’t for some reason, he gives me the saddest look imaginable. Between those moments of abject dsappointment, though, rest assured that King Klaus is one happy camper. He keeps me safe in the garden and in the pool, and he likes watching his Daddy do tractor activities.

04. GARDENS I can practically hear the gardens growing now. Once the sun magically reappeared, it was like jet fuel on everything. Now I walk around noticing new, unreasonably altitude in bean vines and corn, new blooms in flower beds, and generally more life in every nook and cranny, all over the farm. I have a lot of weeding and cleaning ahead of me, and I labsolutely ove it. Weeding is one of my favorite rituals, for many reasons. Maintenance season is infinitely soothing to me.

((This is a before photo. Check in soon for the After!))

05. INSPIRATION Between listening and reading, I have enjoyed several great novels this past month or so, but for inspiration I am rereading Atomic Habits plus a new to me memoir called Take Good Care of the Garden and the Dogs. You’re probably familiar with the former book, by James Clear. If not, I strongly recommend reading it. Own it, actually, so you can make notes and reread it periodically. The latter is by Heather Lende, an author who survived a horrific accident and found enough “family, friendship and faith” in her small Alaska comminuty to write about it. I love stories like this. I have also discovered a performance and mindset coach on IG named Alexis Wilson. She shares exactly the kind of thought training I crave, even if I don’t lean toward entrepaneurship. Check her out.

“The fruit of your character isn’t just in your garden;
it’s in what grows in the lives around you.”
~Alexis WIlson
XOXOXO

fresh homegrown watermelon oklahoma
zinnia in august

Okay, summer people. Here’s what I mean by wristbands and flung open gates: This is just a season. It is bursting with physical pleasure and sensational indulgences. The days can be long and demanding but also long and luxurious. Let’s squeeze every drop we can from as many consecutive days and weeks as possble.

Let’s get outside extra early if our schedules allow it. For me that means doing housework and laptop work in the heat of the day while Klaus naps, ha! Let’s swim a LOT and even get our hair WET. Let’s eat watermelon until we think we have slightly overdone it. Let’s grill at least half of our meals outside then give each other bonus points for eating them outside. Let’s wear swimsuits and our husband’s discarded button up shirts all over town. Let’s wear hats to the store and not apologize for it, on account of our chlorine soaked hair. And while we’re at the store, let’s remember to grab a bottle of leave-in conditioner.

Let’s sneak outside at dusk to watch the bats hunt then stay till true dark to count fireflies. Let’s plant everything we can get our muddy little hands on, take photos of it all, even the weeds, and allow it to nourish us. Roast some marshmallows. Get a tan if you are so inclined. Wear obnoxious colors. Watch JAWS in the pool if you can swing it!

Starting immediately, I want to only smell like bug spray and suncreen, chlorophyll, chlorine, fruit, and horses. I am fine with being mildly uncomfortable if it means I am exhausting my body on summertime work and summertime play. I intend to get to the lake a few times and go hiking in the Wichita Mountains. I am planning cookouts and lots of easy silliness.

I hope you have these good plans or better ones brewing, friends. We made it. Welcome. Enjoy!

“The more wishes you make, the more beautiful Fantasia will be.”
~Neverending Story
XOXOXO

pink houses, punk houses, and everything in between

Hey friends happy June! In many parts of my brain, it still feels like early April, with the cool mornings and extended rainy season; but it is absolutely, no doubt about it, the first day of the sixth month of the year.

A few days ago I had a moment when I realized how many of the things I long for all winter are tangibly available right now. Early daybreaks, warm weather running, emerald forests, animals that are slicked off and plump, chickens laying regularly, flowers in bloom, bats hunting at dusk, frog symphonies, the pool soon opening, you name it. I realized that this is what we have been waiting for, and if I’m not careful, I will speed my way right past it all.

Hey, we went to Luther, OK, yesterday with our dear friends Rex and Cathy. The purpose of our trip was to watch their Third Annual Pinebox Derby races, and that was so fun. But on our walk back to the truck I spotted this little pink house and wanted to tell you about it.

Then when I typed pink it came out punk over and over again, and honestly, soft pink is kind of a punk choice for a house color. John Mellencamp may be have been a different genre, but this kind of bold, authentic living doesn’t lie. My friend Trisha sparked a conversation about what kind of woman lived there and chose that color. She has, “the most amazing frames to her readers, who has aged with grace and laugh lines that can tell many stories… and she definitely has a cookie recipe she only shares with close friends.” I added she also has a secret salsa recipe and might have a parrot rather than a cat or dog. Only becasue her favorite dog, years ago, was irreceplaceable.

Fixing up the house itself is a certain kind of thought experiment; but the magic you could do with plants on a place like this. Man. So, since yesterday I have been mentally landscaping this tiny property. It would have zero trumpet vine, because good grief. And it would have boxwoods, native hydrangeas, lots of white gaura and impatiens, and hyacinth bean vines on that ramp. Maybe morning glories. The bed woud be curving and deep with room for herbs and flowers and just a handful of vegetables interspersed casually. The trees would be groomed back, making room for a big chain swing loaded with pillows for reading.

You know what? She does have a dog after all. Obviously. And all her neighbors love him.

Speaking of landscaping, I am waist deep in a brand new growing experiement here at our own place. Since Handsome built me a greenhouse in March, we have sectioned off a relatively large, full sun rectangle space adjacent to it for vegetables and wildflowers. It is proving to be more of a learning curve than I expected, and the challenge has also been much more fun than I expected. If you visit us anytime soon, please remember that the “Summer Garden” is in year one, and apparently I did not inherit whatever gene allows a person to dig a straight line.

It’s punk to grow in curves, ok?

As my friend Kelly suggested, some of the swooshes could be seen as little surprises in my timeline. The way life throws us curveballs that just beome part of our story. I’ll straighten some of the edges, but for Kelly’s explanation, at least one gets to stay.

I’ve read or listened to several good books recently, plus a few great ones. They have each nourished me in a dfferent way. Now, as per my summertime usual, I am about to indulge mostly in novels. So if you have any suggestions, please drop me a line!

I have also stacked up a few decent months of running and lifting that have me feeling healithier and more free than I have felt since way before the marathon last October, and I am on track to “run the year” again, at least so far. It’s truly wild how resilient and adaptive our bodies are. I still have nothing else planned, race wise; it’s just great to feel great. I know it’s a gift. I will admit, however, that dinner last week with some running friends left me feeling inspired to set a new goal…

A few hundred other things have happened that deserve their own stories, and I may get around to that gradually. We also have a pretty full summer calendar humming at us from the wings. I hope you’ll check in, follow along, and share your stories, too.

Cheers to a brand new month with brand new pleasures and lots of work worth doing!

“And then, one fairy night,
May became June.”
~F. Scott Fitzgerald
XOXO

her second mother’s day

The moment she announced her growing family, we all shrieked with joy. And I mean SHRIEKED. No one was expecting it. We were all just so happy to be together. About 25 family members were holding hands in our living room, saying grace over the fragrant and long awaited Thanksgiving feast. She was the last person in the family to speak her gratitude (her fiancé was the first. He must have seen the opportunity and stealthily guided the group’s clockwise sequence), and she did so with her standard calm, quiet reserve. It took exactly half of one second for the news to cross the air between her pretty mouth to all of our ears, and it created such a stir of energy, such a wave of joy and chaos, that I think no one will ever forget that moment. We caught most of the family response on security camera. There was much jumping and hugging and a little crying.

This is actually her second Mother’s Day weekend. Her first was spent in the hospital welcoming that peach fuzz baby boy we have all become obsessed with and who we each believe regards us, one at a time, as his favorite uncle or auntie or cousin. Grandma and Grandpa have zero competition from us.  

Her craving for motherhood was kept mostly quiet over the years, but her talent for it has been obvious, displayed in the myriad ways she lives and loves. She has always exuded compassion, concern, stability, wisdom and a kind of softness that is matched only by her strength. She is both disciplined and playful, able to hold it all at once. She has spent more than two decades, it turns out, building an emotional and practical nest for her baby bird that is so strong, so comfortable, so safe, and so nourishing that now, at this moment, we see she is not only the mother he needs, the mother he chose from Baby Heaven and came to Earth to find; she is in many ways the mother we all wish to be.

Last November I was lucky enough to spend about a week with my baby sister and her baby boy in their nest. I got to see firsthand her tenderness, the way her lean arms scooped him up, tiny as he was then, into his favorite embrace. The way she fed him and bathed him. I got to watch both of their faces light up when they made eye contact. I heard her voice, which has in our adulthood issued some of my most treasured deep and serious conversations, collapse gently into songs like The Itsy Bitsy Spider and Frère Jacques. I got to see her weep when he was briefly inconsolable during a long car ride. She felt his pain, and she always will. I remember silently hoping she was ready for that part.

I went to California thinking maybe I could impart a smidgen or two of motherly guidance, ha! But no. She was already overflowing with instinct and goodness. She was a steady, shining conduit for every single thing he needed, right when he needed it. And that is exactly how it will always be. In the months since, she and her husband, our new brother we love so much, have shared hundreds of photos showing this peach fuzz baby boy’s growth and vibrating happiness. It is bizarre to think back to that Thanksgiving, to that moment right before she announced her pregnancy, back to the reality where we did not yet know this whole new person.

They say that when a baby is born, a mother is also born. I love that. I think it is true for many women, but in my baby sister’s case, I think she just finally emerged. She had already been a mother for a long time, growing herself behind the scenes and waiting for ripeness and good partnership, a gift every baby deserves. She is one of the most luminous mothers I have ever witnessed, and I am so thankful she has added a nephew and a brother to our big family for us to love, too.

Happy Second Mother’s Day, Gen.
LYLAS
xoxoxo

early spring stream of consciousness

Welcome to springtime in my brain! This post will be some kind of hybrid between a concise and unlyrical “Farm Journal Entry” and a long form, better orchestrated blog post.

Spring has sprung. The weather has shifted, the landscape has well and truly emerged from her winter slumber, and the animals are in agreement, as evidenced by shedding horses, hens laying eggs consistently, and cows giving and receiving piggy back rides. Ahem. Even the pollinators are out of hibernation and doing their buzzy, fluttery rounds. I see snakes and lizards almost daily, despite the cool nights.

((peach blossoms))

((rhett and scarletta))

Did you know we have been building a greenhouse? It’s been on our wishlist for many years, but since refitting the little brick cottage for seed starting a few years ago, I had all but forgotten about the idea. One day about a month ago Handsome announced that he had found a guy (there’s always a guy and my guy’s always finding him) with cheap greenhouse panels. So cheap we would be crazy not to scoop ’em up. So scoop we did, and the rest is history. Chalk this up to another project we have had tons of fun doing together, not to mention one of the grandest gestures of love and romance from him to me. The spot we chose for the new little Taj Majal includes a brand new full sun garden space, my first ever believe it or not! All of this deserves a detailed post, which I will write soon. Just know that it is very exciting, and it has occupied a lot of mental and energetic real estate around here all month.

((I call it my little garden chapel))

((year one for the summer garden))

The photo above is the new “Summer Garden” adjacent to the new greenhouse. This is the view from upstairs. Can you see the color difference in a few spots? I have been adding rich, black compost and shredded oak leaves anytime I can scrape out half an hour. In fact, this job might be finished by the time I post this. The space overall has been tilled, because it has never been used for growing before, and we did add topsoil. But that topsoil turned out to be mostly sand and clay, so the amendments are both necessary and fun. I love using what we have, right here at the farm, whenever possible. The pine trees are north, the greenhouse is east, and the food rows will run parallel to those fence lines you see on the left. If you look closely, you can see my favorite vintage glider couch, a gift from my Dad, fortified by Handsome, facing the west. We see the most glorious sunsets here, and I can’t wait to invite frinends to watch them, surrounded by corn and okra and wildflowers. We’ll pick a watermelon and eat it together, right there.

((starberries waking up))

One of our friends recommended the Apple TV series SIlo, but I can’t remember who. We devoured season one, and now I am recommending it to you. Normally to this type of show I say enough already with the apocalyptic stuff. We have all saturated our brains with it, you know? But this is different. There’s a fascinating element of truth supression that to me is worth the insufferable grime and short food supply, etc. Have you watched it? Thank you to whoever suggested we give it a try!

In very different emntertainment news, the current season of Shrinking is chef’s kiss, as the kids say. It has a Ted Lasso quality that makes me feel so good and strong.

On a blustery weather day recently I dove deeply into spring cleaning. Between dusting and scrubbing various negelcted spaces, I took down some heavy drapes in the living room then removed a complicated window treatment in the kitchen (imagine a pleated sheer with six wicker baskets hanging from the curtain rod, all filled with about twenty dry hydrangeas, plus disco balls hanging among them. It was an autumn choice which I do not regret but of which I had grown quite weary). The gluttonous flood of sunlight in both rooms stunned me. I had forgotten how bright the downstairs of our house could be! Now I want to paint some portion of the kitchen yellow and hang crisp white cafe curtains everywhere. Until that decision is made, I am enjoying the light, and Johnny RIngo is enjoying the cooking shows.

((I have since added very different curtains))

Speaking of Johnny Ringo, he remains Klaus’ best friend. They spend the majority of every day together, and it’s the sweetest thing ever. Twice in a week we went outside before daybreak and didn’t find him. Klaus was worried. But when we did our breakfast chores and made it around to the chicken coop, both times we found him there. Somehow Johnny had got shut in with the flock and slept there all night, ha! Also both times, the entire flock was huddled around him in the adjacent duck room, looking like a very creepy seance.

((best buddies))

I had a refreshing thought recently about springtime gardening, and I’ll share it with you in case you also berate yourself for having not yet orchestrated a lush, complex, multi-week spring display of color and texture. You know the kinds of gardens we see, right. and crave? But for the most part those gardens are installed the previous autumn, which is a busy time in a thousand other ways. I have talked to lots of gardening friends who also bemoan the lack of wherewithall in October to plant a garden we won’t see until March or April. Anyway, here is my refreshing thought: Our eyes and our spirits needs far less than we think they do. Nature herself provides so much, without our help. Just sprinkle in a few things here and there, add a little more each year, and call it mission accomplished.

Elsewhere on the farm I do have tulips splashing jellybean color on the sepia landscape and a few fruit trees and hellebores, budding hydrangeas, lilacs, and the first bright green on boxwoods and other shrubs. But this plain little scene, oak leaves and all, gets the point across, to me at least: You need less than you think you do to feel the relief of springtime. A bit of redbud, a forsythia, some daffodils here and there. Not a thousand. Not a perfect grid, either, unless that’s your thing, But for me, in Oklahoma, springtime is all about the vegetable garden. So I am very content feasting my eyes on the easy beauty of everything just waking up. At least for now. : )

((year two for these exciting grapevines))

((the pond is still low and still beautiful))

I trust nature to wake up, but every time she does I am just floored. Every perennial that appears where I had become accustomed to brown, dry earth, amazes me. When the grapevines pushed fresh buds, which then unfurled into fancy green leaves, I just about wept. The blackberries are a miracle, And I have no business collecting such well aged compost after so many months of neglect. I guess I always thought the compost heap needed a lot more complicated attention than it does. But man. We have six out of nine enormous boxes overflowing with the good stuff right now! The pines are candling, the oak trees are dressed in thousands of those chartreuse tassels, and I have a feeling my rose garden will be in bloom for Easter Sunday.

Every day I wake up with so many ideas I have to spend a few minutes consciously focusing my energy. Too much available time can be a problem, but it’s a gift once my energy is focused. I am trying to really cement a few new habits:

  • Be very choosy about what deserves my attention. This means saying no to lots of options.
  • Do something every day that cannot be easily undone, so that I am not living perpetually in maintenance mode.
  • Allow myself to be led by Joy, not fear or stress or guilt or anything else. It matters.

There’s more, friends much more. In the time it took me to upload these photos and write these haphazrd sentences, thirty other beautiful things have happened. And I haven’t even told you what’s going on at the Commish or in our family. Just like in the springtime landscape, energy is building and changes are everywhere. I can’t keep up. And I have no desire to. I am just so happy to be along for the ride.

“The war had invested me with an understanding that life is both
dangerous and fleeting and thus there is no point in denying yourself
adventure while you are still here.”
~Elizabeth Gilbert in Magic City
XOXOXO

hold what ya got

My husband says something that drives me crazy.

Not the… please shut the cabinet door or would you please put your dirty socks away kind of crazy.

(Not that he does those things.)

(I’m just giving you examples.)

More of the… Sleeveless tshirt, backwards ballcap, and stern business voice on work calls kind of crazy.

That kind of crazy that gives me shivvers.

Handsome behind the wheel on a country drive…xoxo

At various crucial times around the farm, he says to me in his deepest, most controlled, most deliciously mellow voice, “Hold what ya got.”

And I almost can’t focus. I don’t know what it is exactly, but I love it, ha!

This past week he said it to me while we wrangled Scarletta Jones into our makeshift squeeze shoot to administer antibiotics. My job was to hold the rope against her strenuous objections and then apply whatever full body tension I could muster onto the steel gates to keep her still. Hold what ya got. He just utters the phrase calmly under his breath, without making eye contact, focused on his side of the task.

Earlier in the week and again yesterday, he said it to me many times while we worked together on our little greenhouse build. He has designed and purchased and organized all of it. Planned every step. He gives me useful-feeling tasks along the way, often amounting to lifting lumber to the sky while he measures some mysterious distance or holding two pieces together while me makes an angle just perfect.

Hold what ya got.

Then inwardly, to myself, Focus, girl!

There are innumerable examples of him casting this atomic spell on me. He’s been saying it for years, and I only recently intimated how it affects me. He doesn’t get it. But that makes it worse. Or better.

I suppose he’ll keep saying it forever. I hope he does.

And I absolutely will.
XOXOXO