Lazy W Marie

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

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early autumn, mid morning, deep bliss

The wooden deck is still damp from last night’s rainstorm. The surrounding gardens and lawns are soaked too, and newly vibrant. Single oak leaves and twigs with two or three leaves still attached litter everything, a cheerful seasonal confetti. A long, branching strand of Virgina Creeper clinging to the old brick smokehouse is autumn colored finally, boasting as much red and rust in its flat, serrated leaves as summertime’s leathery green. 

The oak trees are getting the same idea, finding their oranges and browns slowly in dots and splotches and fading, bleeding edges. Although many of those leaves won’t fall, it’s nice to see them change.

Midmorning sunlight cuts across the space, dissecting the shade garden and illuminating hydrangea blooms, both the violet, velvety ones and the dried, sepia colored ones. Faded zinnias are left in darkness.

He is lighting and stirring the bonfire now. Smoke from the torched, oily pine branches jets upward, and the cold sunlight plays games with that too.

I love the opposite temperatures. Chills and breezes crawling up my spine and flesh-shrinking heat on my face. Sunglasses do a poor job of shielding me from either the heat or the smoke. 

Some of the pansies and cabbages are still heavy from rain, still diamond studded. Their colors especially vivid. I cannot resist taking multiple snapshots of them. None of them are good. The real thing always shrugs off the imitations.

Ashes fall over us. Kittens scramble around new pallet decking. Logs crackle and collapse then pop again as the bonfire gains strength. 

All of this puts us somewhere between breakfast and lunchtime. Also somewhere between summer and fall. Not a day for working, no plans for extravagance. Just a good, deep breath of opposites and comfort and steady transformation.

XOXOXOXO

my bliss list for august

Hello and happy last day of August. I kinda can’t believe what the calendar is declaring, especially compared to what the weather is whispering. But here we are, well past the halfway mark for the year and once again taking stock of so much joy. 

After writing these privately for several months, I’m sharing for the first time my personally curated “Bliss List,” as inspired by an Austin based blogging team The Hungry Yogis. I hope you groove this. 

Farm Stuff…

  • Those chicks that hatched over Memorial Day weekend are growing like happy, bouncy little weeds. Their scruffy feathers have smoothed out, too, and they have found a place in the flock.
  • So much lush, green grass everywhere. Barefoot quality stuff. Cool, velvety lawns devoid of sticker patches. Bliss.
  • Hummingbirds smother the zinnias especially.
  • Speaking of zinnias, they are outstanding this month! As are the sunflowers, oregano, chocolate mint, roses, basil, lemongrass, morning glories, and more. The easiest plants to grow, sure, but no less blissful in their abundance.
  • We have a deer family visit from the Pine Forest several times per week. All month they have gathered at the pond around 5:45 a.m.
  • A baby hawk recently hatched. When it screams at us, we feel like we are in a Heman/Skeletor cartoon.
  • Natasha actually caught and killed a field mouse. It’s a miracle. She paraded it around for days.
  • And we discovered two baby kittens in the barn! Pretty certain that Giant Yellow Forest Cat is the daddy.
  • Fat, healthy, happy horses who (this is a new development) don’t mind fly spray anymore. Bliss for them and for me.
  • This month we collected far more fresh eggs than we could eat and had plenty to share.
  • Herbs, peppers, and leafy greens (kale and arugula) continued to grow the whole month, with constant little harvests. So fun.
  • We picked up an order of fresh hay in early August. The big, heavy bales are fragrant and gorgeous and should last until winter. Bliss to be stocked up.
  • The honeybees are multiplying again and are still building up their honey stores. It’s all pretty magical.
  • Velvet and Lincoln have been staying at the farm!! We all love having them here. So much fun. And it has been a character building experience for Mr. Only Child aka Klaus.
  • My husband has been mowing the grassy areas adjacent to our gravel driveway into curving wildflower meadows. I call it the “Curves and Edges Meadow.” The long, south edge is part of the front field, where Chunk-hi used to live. The earth there is not only healing; it is bursting with new life, a brand new wildness. The poetry is pretty hard to miss.

Personal Stuff…

  • I cut my bangs once this month and did not botch them. Cool.
  • Running has been on a steady uptick, my plantar situation healing nicely and my mileage increasing slowly each week, up to 130.56 for August. Running = bliss.
  • I found a new running trail near the farm! Having options is nice, especially for long-ish miles.
  • My health overall has been great, in fact. I feel easily vibrant, aware of not having chronic troubles. I appreciate it more and more as a gift, not a given.
  • Gutting the Apartment and starting a big redecorating project up there has been deeply satisfying. Like shedding old skin and starting fresh.
  • The book Code Red and all the intense charting I’ve done this summer really came into focus this month. I have enjoyed some fascinating insights and uncanny celestial coincidences. Three or fours women in my life might be about ready for me to stop coercing them to read the book, haha.
  • I am so happy to have made room in my schedule for things that really matter. This particular life improvement showed clearly this past month, and I am grateful. 
  • Good solid contact with my most beloved people. August brought lots of amazing surprises, and I will remember it forever.
  • So many glowing neon signs in life right now, pointing me straight to writing. It has been a month for good, solid alignment of signs, circumstances, and my heart’s desires.
  • August was another month of food triumphs. I could write a book on all the excellent nourishment we enjoyed. Not a cookbook, probably. Just lots of descriptions, ha.

Friends and Family Stuff…

  • We spent lots of quality time with our people this month. From intimate dinners to afternoons with nieces and nephews and of course that 5K downtown, then our big Lazy W Talent Show, August was packed with fun and meaningful socializing. We are surrounded with people who really magnify LOVE.
  • And one Friday night we drove to Norman to see my cousin perform her music live! Such a great night with family, and she is wonderfully talented.
  • I dreamed of my Grandpa all month for some reason. A few times I woke up thinking he was still alive, and that reality stung, but the dreams were sweet and warm and happy. I also happened to find some old letters from him, while cleaning out the Apartment. I think the arugula growing so well has kept him in my every day. Smells, after all, are so powerful.
  • I got to meet Marisa Mohi in person, finally! We had lunch then coffee to discuss bloggish things, then she and Rosie Puppins came to the farm last weekend for our Talent Show. Such a stellar human. I am very happy to know her.

 

Universal Stuff…

  • The eclipse was so refreshing and inspiring. Do you agree? Everyone pausing all day, collectively inhaling and watching the sky, drawn together to focus on something bigger and simpler and far more beautiful than the messes and suffering we have made for each other.
  • Noticing the orchestration of friendships. How sometimes we need someone we have only just met, and they need us too, or other times the familiarity of people who really know your history wraps you up at the perfect moment. The Universe knows us, knows what we need, knows what we have to offer, and is able to weave it all together into a pretty spectacular masterpiece if we relax and allow it to happen. So nice. 
  • This seed of an idea has germinated in my head: That competition can be a waste of energy in intimate relationships. I would love to hear your thoughts on this! But this is on my Bliss List because the notion of complementing each other rather than competing with each other is so sweet and soothing.
My husband snapped this photo of the Oklahoma State Capitol during the eclipse. Unfiltered, so dim and suspenseful.

Friends, thanks for listening. Thanks for checking in. It’s always nice to share the every day blissful details with you. And thank you, Hungry Yogis, for the luscious inspiration!

I hope you are well. I hope if you have loved ones in south Texas that they are safe and secure. 

Trust in Love. Count the tiny pleasures, let them multiply.

“If you are to love, 
love like the moon.
It does not steal the night
it only unveils the beauty of the dark.”
~Isra Al-Thibeh
XOXOXOXO

 

after the full moon

Monday delivered another unseasonably cool August daybreak. Walking from the kitchen door across the south lawn, two steaming mugs of perfect coffee in hand, I first noticed the humidity and then alternating pockets of warm and cool air. My eyesight was still blurry and dreamlike, barely awake, so in those stumbly moments, the brackish air around me seemed to manifest blue and pink, puffy handfuls of varying temperatures. It was an illusion, I knew that, but a gorgeous one.

To my left, of course, the sky actually was colorful. Oklahoma sun rises are surpassed in kaleidoscope beauty only by Oklahoma sunsets. Monday was no exception. Blues, pinks, and oranges. Silver and gold.

Later that day, after an easy run and half a day’s work, I walked back through this same space, west this time, downhill toward the shade garden. The sky had lowered and turned a suede gray. Still humid, but the air was stirred up now, all blended into one smooth, mellow flavor. Birds called from every side the way they often do only at dawn. Tree frogs and locusts raised the volume.

Full moon singing.

I spent some time cutting back sunflowers that were damaged from weekend thunderstorms. Thinking the whole time about Jessica turning twenty, I gathered enough for a hefty bouquet, set aside lots of dried seedheads for next year’s garden, and donated the rest to the horses and chickens.

(Besides sunflowers, did you know our horses will also eat arugula? Weirdos.)

Klaus kept me company most of the time, but he was often distracted by Meh splashing in the pond or crickets burrowing in the soft earth. My loyal pup appeared at my side half a dozen times with a muddy snoot and spiky-wet legs, belly, and tail. Little-boy happiness pulsing off of him.

I continued on emptying the raised beds of weeds and bolted leafy greens.

It’s a wonderful full moon task, this garden clean up. Right now is the perfect time for culling dead things, releasing what is damaged, and then letting everything rest. Since Monday I have grabbed an hour or two here and there, cleaning flower beds and working over exhausted vegetable plots, trying to help the farm catch its breath at this special time of the moon phase. Soon we will get another deep drink of rain, and more August heat, so this rest will be put to good use for new growth.

Just like in life, you know?

Wednesday night we drove to nearby Harrah to purchase a few round bales of hay for the bachelors.

Klaus accompanied us and smiled literally the entire time. I swear he puts of a certain kind of heat from his abundant joy. He loves truck rides so much.

When we arrived back at the farm and pulled through the barn to unload, Chanta, Dusty, and Meh thundered uphill and found us pretty quickly. They nibbled at a hay bale that was still wedged in the truck bed while Handsome wrestled, rolled, shoved, and pulleyed the other three behemoths into the barn. (We will eventually invest in a tractor with a hay spike; until then, it’s my husband’s brute strength that keeps things happening around here.)

We later dropped that delicious contraband over near the bonfire pit and deck yard, beneath some oak trees. I walked-rolled the big aluminum hay ring across the farm to encircle the feast.

I love fresh hay. Fragrant, tender, all shades of grassy neutrals and some green threads too. I love massive, dense bales that seem to be concrete blocks wrapped up in a flaky layer of goodness. Being stocked up makes me deeply content.

Early this morning, we took another walk south with perfect coffee in hand. Our Hot Tub Summit ritual continues. The farm was half wet from gentle overnight rain. The clouds were dappled, this daybreak as colorful as Monday’s but much warmer. The horses were standing at the new bale of hay, beneath the oak trees, eating breakfast (which actually appeared to be the end of a midnight snack). Sunlight from the east stabbed right through the steamy darkness and landed on the scene, illuminating all of it. Chanta’s hindquarters especially were glowing. Dusty took a deep breath and folded his legs to lay down. His big head lowered until his chin touched the wet leaves, and he fell asleep. Just as the farm was waking up.

Happiest of Thursdays to you, friends!
XOXOXOXO

 

a private moment filled with reminders

At the park where I ran this morning is an open-air, concrete pavilion with several large caged fans mounted at the ceiling, all pointed down to the floor at different angles. I was stopped for a drink of water at a brick building about twenty feet away.

A young dad was standing inside that pavilion, holding his young son up in the air, facing away from him, the dad’s arms wrapped around his little boy’s slender, stiffened legs, chunky sneakers hitting his dad mid-torso. The boy’s arms, also stiff, were glued to his own torso. His blonde head was tilted back, and he was screaming into the fan, at high volume and with lots of gusto:

“III LLLOOOOOVVVEE YYOOOOOOUUUUU DDAAAAADDD!!!”

Over and over again.

Just like we all did to oscillating fans when we were kids. But it was an extra big fan. Extra loud.

So many times.

The dad just held him there, a blonde headed little torch of energy, beaming happiness. The boy screamed I love you dad at least a dozen times while I stood there drinking water and stretching, spying on their private moment in public.

Mom, baby me, and Dad, circa 1974.

This is what I wanted to tell you today:

Go for a run if you can and love your kids steady and hold them up really strong and love your dad, too.

Over and over again.

XOXOXOXO

 

looking around to improve your perspective

Yesterday afternoon I stumbled into the weirdest funky mood. It lasted maybe 90 seconds and had the effect of a low, dark cloud crawling meanly across an otherwise brilliant sky. It was so distinct and forceful that it literally stopped me in my tracks. I was walking downhill toward the vegetable garden and paused, looked around like maybe I heard something behind me? Klaus stopped too and crooked his head to wait for my next step. His face and the green lawn and a few other beautiful things reminded me that I was home. That the moment was good and the context was magical. 

I’m grateful for awareness when my perspective is shifted negatively and for the power to bring it back to center. It’s often just a small exercise of noticing physical beauty, then maybe indulging in the quiet, inner messages some of them bring:

Fallen tree branches that resemble antlers. I cannot resist collecting them and inserting them into every flower pot, and it gets me thinking of the hundreds of patterns in nature, in the universal patterns of the human experience, from one generation to the next.

A stout gray and white horse who loves to scratch the hollow of his chin against every T-post on the farm. Oh Dusty, I love you.

That weird but pleasant summertime fragrance combination of latex paint, sweet clover, and manure, all warmed by the sun and stirred by the breeze. It’s just nice.

Watching our German Shepherd (I can no longer in good conscience call him a puppy) and our llama play together like little boys. Remembering the girls when they were little and prone to indulging in “Mud Monster” afternoons. Dreaming of their futures. Watching the dog and llama again, best friends on the muddy edge of the pond. 

The pond is still so high! Exceeding its banks, our own small lake, all these weeks after the heavy rain. Grace is abundant. We are fattened by it.

Walking around the bee hives, seeing the Honeymakers float and parade near their respective porches. Each colony is so unique, and all three of them are so entrancing. This is an endless metaphor.

Raking up great, thick, heavy clods of crabgrass, recently tilled, and shaking loose the dirt. Looking up just enough to visualize the food that will soon be growing here.

Checking for the day’s newly laid eggs, having to gently lift each hen to find them. Feeling the warm, sticky film on eggs that stay in the nests, waiting to hatch. Learning to trust the life cycle without counting chicks too early.

The lingering smell of marigold blossoms and arugula, the rough texture of kale, the jewel toned petunias and geraniums near the kitchen door. Oh man I had the best Grandpa…xoxo

Neatly pruned trees that had once been a chaotic black jack grove. Peace and strength that have brought some order to a fearful heart. Order and more beauty.

Frozen things are long thawed, mountains are moving, fear is losing once again to Love.

“Most people think it takes a long time to change. It doesn’t. Change is immediate! Instantaneous! It may take a long time to decide to change…but change happens in a heartbeat!”
~Andy Andrews in The Noticer
XOXOXOXO