Lazy W Marie

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

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holding space, and early march update & a new spin on optimism

In like a lion, out like a lamb. That’s the adage I’m celebrating right now, doubling up on the almanac’s confident assurances about an early spring. My local friends will argue that our frigid air temps of late have already proved that prediction wrong; but it was a brief blip on an otherwise sunny outlook. This too shall pass. Let’s cling to that adage as well, which brings me to my favorite reading material this week: The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle.

Have you read this book, or are you listening to Oprah’s piecemeal interview with him, which dissects his other title, A New Earth? The material is such a luscious reinforcement to all the Buddhism we have been absorbing this winter, all the lessons on mindfulness, stillness, and impermanence.

And I may or may not have mentioned this here: For months now I have been receiving crystal clear direction from God to make space and hold it. I crave space in my body, in my schedule, in our home, even in my intimate relationships, though creating space there has been magically coupled with a new layer of more meaningful intimacy. I tried to rationalize it for a while but eventually relaxed and decided that simply doing it could become my daily practice. It has been lovely, and I am only just beginning.

One funny thing about space is that it tends to fill itself up if we aren’t watching. Physical space, especially. We recently sold one car and rearranged the others plus some gym equipment to other outbuildings and in so doing wound up with a completely blank car bay in the garage attached to our house, the one where I do laundry and have a potting/painting bench. How long did that space stay empty? Not very! We went to the feed store last weekend and brought home 21 newly hatched chicks and 2 tiny ducks. They now live in a heated metal horse trough in that “empty space,” ha! Our days since they came to the farm have been very peep-ish and our whole world is now totes adorbs. This kind of space filling is fine by us.

Let’s talk about the weather once more, and the seasons.

These recent weeks brought us freezing (truly freezing, not just hyperbole-cold-Oklahoma but actually sub-zero) temps and plenty of frost and ice. We fought off the despair of unceasingly gray, gloomy skies, wore layer upon layer of clothing but still shivered, and ate weird food that barely ever warmed us up. The tail end of February is always bizarre, right? Doesn’t it feel longer than all the rest of winter, combined?

Then, on Monday evening, the clouds parted suddenly and the sun shone on the farm just long enough to accomplish a dramatic stab of gold and bronze, fighting off the gloom, literally moments before dusk. We were sitting in the east living room when it happened, and the change in atmosphere deserved its own Vivaldi soundtrack.

Then Tuesday was ever so slightly more pleasant for being outside, and sunset on Wednesday took my breath away. This morning, before seven, I saw the eastern sky do that kaleidoscope twist where all of her pink and apricot colors churned and shone and cast a shimmering mix of lavender and yellow onto the basin of the western sky, just across our pond. It happens some days in a more kinetic way than others. It’s truly magical, and I love it.

Also, our only two adult roosters are fighting a little bit, no matter that they have a harem of seven gorgeous hens to share.

The pine forest has been weighed down with hefty flocks of visiting, screaming black birds.

The earthworms are wriggling into the warmest top layers of soil and compost.

The horses are shedding like crazy.

The bees are foraging on dried manure and dandelions.

And my heart just knows.

What I’m saying here, friends, is that springtime is happening. We knew it would!

All the seed trays, empty raised beds, and future watermelon patches will soon be ready for action.

Until then, more space making, More reading and cleaning and working and loving. More teaching ducklings to swim (like they need lessons) and more encouraging German Shepherds to appreciate every single romp outdoors, because the freeze is over, at long last.

A quick, gentle word about optimism, and this darling snuggling photo of Handsome with Maddie:

At our friend Maddie’s recent high school performance of Shrek, one song stood out to me and actually kind of hit me like a marshmallow sledgehammer. The character Fiona was singing a funny lament about how many years she had been locked away in her tower, about for how very long she had been wishing for her prince to rescue her (insert your own long-awaited miracle at this point). Then in the scene when it finally happens, when Shrek finally comes to release her from her bondage, she proclaims, “I knew it would happen TODAY!”

TODAY. Fiona knew, all those days and years leading up to her big moment, that her answer would come. She surrounded herself with evidence of other princesses and their unique moments of redemption. As her own waiting and captivity stretched on, she may have felt discouraged sometimes but still knew in some funny, weird way that it would happen today. The only detail missing was exactly which today it would be. And so, with that deep knowledge, she never gave up.

Okay, I will leave that with you for a while, to marinate. Please get back with me and share your thoughts. The whole notion that today is all we have, that this moment is all there ever is, that presence and attention are powerful, well, it will not let go of me. And it all leads me to crave more space. And I knew that springtime would eventually happen, that it would happen on some unknown today. And I know that all of our hardest-yearned for prayers will also be answered, on some very special today that is very much worth waiting for.

A final thought about Fiona? She waited, and she trusted, but her answer was still a miraculous surprise. Remember? It was not exactly what she imagined: It was far better. So friends, let’s stay open to the shock and trembling joy of all that is possible in our lives. Let’s crate and hold space for whatever is coming. And then relax back into the present moment.

I love you. I wish you only the best of every detail. Please come visit our baby peeps before they grow up.

“Past and future veil God from our sight.
Burn up both of them with fire.”
~Rumi
XOXOXOXO

farm update: january’s breath of summer

It’s Wednesday afternoon, and my biggest work is done, miles ran, house clean and quiet except for normal Lazy W sounds. Schedule clear until dinner with friends tonight. I am forcing myself to sit down with a salty snack and cold drink, just to offer a quick farm update and return some emails. Because really, I’d much rather chat with you outside. So would you if you were here.

The weather here in Oklahoma, in case you haven’t heard, is temporarily glorious. So glorious it makes being indoors a little difficult. I get antsy. Warm afternoons, cool evenings, starry nights, and abundant sunshine day after day. The fresh air is intoxicating, so our windows are all open. Curtains billowing inward like a dream then sucking back against the screens with no warning. Rooster crows and buffalo chuffs making the silence fuller, warmer. Sunlight streaming in and colliding with the disco ball, scattering silver blurs all over the living room. I love all of this. It’s like magic, this symphony of beauty for every sense. Every spring I remember just in the nick of time why we live here, just when I was about to start packing boxes and move either to the Equator or the city.

The animals are blissing out, too. Egg production is up from six or seven per day to nine and sometimes even eleven. And we’re getting minty green ones still, which are my favorite. There’s a lot of, um… chicken romance happening all over the farm, so if things go well our little flock could make it possible for us to hatch out some gorgeous feathery babies again this year. We have a greater variety of breeds now, too, so this could be fun.

The llamas have rearranged their pecking order since Dulcinea has recovered from her pregnancy. Interestingly, while she was El Preggo, she was very clearly at the top of that adorable little totem pole. Then came Romulus, then Meh, oblivious to being in last place. (Llamas seem to be matriarchal, which could be why an expectant mother rose to the top despite her youth. This is my unprofessional observation-based opinion.) Now recently, Dulcie has fallen to the bottom, with her baby brother above her and Big Daddy Rom up top. “Where obviously I belong,” he seems to say with his stately gaze. Anyway, she’s doing great. The fall from grace has actually made her more cuddly to us, so we like it. Handsome really seems to be enjoying his extra cookie time with the llama he has always called Little Bit. xoxoxo

Yesterday we were pulling up the driveway at a particularly warm, still moment and saw Chanta napping in the sun. He was all folded up against himself, basking, no halter on his face, breathing with his entire body. The sight was beyond precious. I snapped these photos showing his startled wake-up. The fourth photo, had I managed to take it, would have been him stretching his legs and neck as far as they would go. And yawning. He is the yawniest horse I have ever seen.

chanta 1

chanta 2

chanta 3

Tulips are breaking ground. This is said with a great measure of self control, because as soon as anything breaks ground, I can think of little else besides gardening. This, together with the insanely gorgeous temperatures, makes it difficult to remember we are still finishing up January. About 50 days still to live fully until the official start of the loveliest of all seasons.

Live fully, Marie, live fully, Carpe every single diem.
Don’t waste too much time reflecting on the past or anticipating the future.
Today is beautiful and important.

On that note, I’ll wrap this up and go scoop some manure for composting. I hope wherever you are that the weather is kind to you. I hope if you are still in winter’s bitter grip that you have lots of soup and fuzzy blankets nearby to warm your bones.

Count your blessings. Make the most of today. The days add up.

“A garden is always a series of losses set against a few triumphs, like life itself.”
~May Sarton
XOXOXO

 

friday 5 at the farm: goose attack

Happy Friday! For this week’s edition of Friday 5 at the Farm, I thought I’d share 5 photos of geese (6 if you count the one of my arm) and tell you a little story.

A few days ago I was minding my own business, feeding treats to the very harmonious cats and chickens in our front yard, trying to catch a nice moment on camera, when the Gangsters (that what we call our gaggle) showed up and caused a ruckus. It was noisy and confusing and ended in violence. Violence directed at me. So, pride wounded, I posted the following photo to Instagram.

goose bite
A goose attacked me and I almost died. “That’s gonna leave a mark!”

All my internet friends were immediately on my side, declaring how scary and vicious geese are, and possibly evil, and how they can’t believe I probably need a tetanus shot and maybe amputation of the offended limb. Goose bites are horrible, right? Then I felt bad. Because, in retrospect, the Gangsters tried to warn me. I was just too caught up in catching a great photo of cats and chickens to pay attention. I’ll tell that part of the story with our Friday 5 photos.

 

Canadian gosling domesticated
Duck-duck, our adopted Canadian gander, approaches from the right while the hens make a graceful exit.

 

South African goose happy posture
The other five, the South Africans, enter the scene quickly but Mia in right in my face. See his different posture? This is a goose in love.

 

South African geese on high alert
This is where the tide turns. I was way too close to their beloved Duck-duck, as you can plainly see from the straight necks on Mama and the other three. Mia, as always, is still curve-necked and honking his love softly.

 

Gaggle of geese protecting their adopted baby
That’s Duck-duck still in the middle of it all. Mia is on the right, trying to protect me. I should have listened to him.

 

goose attack
This is Johnny Cash. He had enough and charged me, biting my tender forearm and not letting go for what felt like hours. (It was probably like ten seconds.) I screamed like a little girl and Mia honked wildly and Handsome came to my rescue.

 

That’s pretty much the whole story. Except that since Johnny Cash has tasted my blood (yes, it bled a little) his bullying has gone to new levels. I cannot go anywhere on this farm without looking over my shoulder. He honks with this particular tone of arrogance that just drives me batty. I woke up from a goose-related nightmare last night. He doesn’t even care.

I still love the geese, even Johnny Cash. Mia has to be careful not to show me too much affection in front of The Gangsters, but his heart still belongs to me.

The End.

Have you ever been attacked by a goose? Let’s have all the gory details.

We’re goin’ ballistic, Mav, go get ’em!
~Goose to Mav in Top Gun
XOXOXOXO

 

 

Sun Worshipers Rejoice!

   In our little slice of heaven, the clock has made its annual adjustment forward, making the sunrise a bit later and the sunset later too. And I could not be happier! The first morning is always the most difficult, of course, and most of my friends joined me in accidentally sleeping late because the sun was nowhere to be found at the usual “time.” Whatever “time” means to you.
This leafy mess is the area outside my kitchen window 
where I’ll soon be installing an herb garden.
   Aside from this first dark thrust into the new work week, though, the beginning of Daylight Savings Time is a wonderful thrill for me! It is one more signal that winter is closing up shop. Springtime conditions are in full force in Oklahoma already, but now even the calendar agrees. It gives me butterflies. Or, chickens. Or whatever.
The chickens are more than happy to scratch up the weeds
and devour whatever bugs they can find,
especially when I tempt them with a good layer of manure.
This loosens up the heavy clay and saves me a lot of time with the spade.
It’s like slave labor. Only more symbiotic.
   Now we can cook more slowly in the evening and hopefully crave less heavy meals, too. We can eat dinner, clean up the dishes, and still have time to walk around the farm without a flashlight. We can feed a second round of kitchen scraps to the chickens in the evenings because they’ll be foraging still. Handsome can feel the sun on his skin every day now, rather than just see it through his airtight office windows, so we anticipate spending more hours together outside, and not just on the weekends. This is such a good time of year.
Of course, Mia supervises the whole operation.
   On top of all of this, I am feeling so thankful for the gentle, consistent rain! It bears repeating that after last year’s brutality, this year’s mildness will be reverently accepted as an undeserved gift every single day.
   Interestingly, in addition to the clock shift, we are also in the beginning days of a waning moon here. So I suppose after finishing some housework I should get to work on soil amendment and planting potatoes, garlic, carrots, and radishes, which are all below ground crops.

   The many slices of time and season that God gives us are so fascinating! A time for everything, for every purpose under heaven.

Thirteen Days Till my Beekeeping Class!!
Have a Beautiful, Productive Day, Everyone!
xoxoxo