Lazy W Marie

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

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Unnecessary Fear

   Earlier today I was working alone in the barn, raking soft, sweet hay into enormous piles for the horses and buffalo to eat. The air was comfortably chilly, and the absence of electronics there made the quiet feel like a safe blanket. My mind had been frayed this morning from a series of sad memories and difficult exchanges, and my concentration was suffering.
   Thankfully, work abounds, and physical activity does wonders for my mental clarity and sense of peace.
   While I raked the hay and sorted out my thoughts, I was happy knowing the animals were all satisfied by their breakfasts of either sweet grain, kibble, fresh eggs, or kitchen scraps, and they milled around their respective pens quietly.  The farm was sunless and still, though low, quilted clouds hinted at weather changes.
   Then, without warning, I heard the loud, rapid drum roll of sleet crashing against the metal roof and siding. Our two barn cats were startled so badly they jumped down from their elevated eating perch and found shelter beneath my pink four wheeler. Admittedly, I was startled too. 
   In that quick moment I thought to myself, How long is this storm going to last? Am I dressed warmly enough to stay in the barn all afternoon, if I get iced in? Should I do something for the geese, who are too stubborn to seek shelter? Do we have any cars parked outside that will suffer hail damage if I don’t move them? I wonder if it’s icing where Jocelyn & Jessica are, and if I send them hats and gloves, would they wear them?
   So after three or four seconds of jumping to the most dramatic possibilities imaginable, I walked over to the west doors and took a peek outside. Despite the aggressive, unruly noise of ice hitting the barn, all the precipitation I could see in the middle field was finely textured wet glitter. It was dusting Daphne, our black mare, and moistening the field. but it was nowhere near the frozen storm I expected to see. My nervousness settled instantly, and I had to laugh at myself.
   The barn had served to magnify the sound of the ice, and I allowed that sound to scare me. The metal roof and siding could do nothing to magnify the ice itself, nor the danger or inconvenience the ice might pose; it was only my perception of the danger and inconvenience that affected my nerves.
   In light of my frayed state, this was a revelation. 
   The way I feel is not necessarily linked to truth. The way I see things is not necessarily based on facts. “Facts,” wherever and however you collect them, can be distorted and can be misleading.
   And while women especially want to be able to trust our feelings and instincts, sometimes we get it wrong. Sometimes what’s going on in our immediate surroundings can trick us into fearing the worst about what lies beyond us.
Wishing you a warm, dry place to hide in your next storm
and wisdom to correctly understand that storm.
xoxoxo

Less Pomp than Circumstance

   Our Charlie Brown Christmas tree is now in full regalia, and my heart is overflowing.

   Three days ago I mined through a heap of decorations while smarty pants blogger M Half, in town for a birthday surprise for a mutual friend and staying at the farm, sat in my living room doing professional things on her laptop and reading aloud to me wonderful, witty blog posts and articles. I listened and chattered out my thoughts, she read to me her own carefully crafted responses, and we laughed. I continued decorating Charlie, drank copious amounts of perfect coffee, and sometimes made her yummy things to eat. Together we resisted the melodious urgings of Bobby Pacino, our resident blue and gold macaw. This bird is very seductive. And distracting.

   M and I might have solved a few social crises. At least betwixt us two. We mostly luxuriated in the mellowness of the day. We definitely shared an appreciation for the hopefully mythical flavor of hotdog-water herbal tea. Periphery, did you make that up? 

If you have never had an intelligent friend sit captive in your home 
and read to you mind-nourishing bits and baubles,
please find a way to make it happen. 
It helps if she has a pleasant voice and similar gastric appetite
and can follow your errant trains of thought nimbly. 
You can borrow M Half now and then,
so long as her Hubs agrees.

   As mentioned last week, Handsome and I decided to take a milder path with Christmas decor this winter, starting with our tree. What we did not predict is the friendly debate that would be sparked by the culling of a live tree from our forest. If you missed it, check out the comments on this blog, following my December 6th post and then chime in! I’d love to hear what more people think!

   This is one of the best byproducts of blogging. I am so thankful to have a reader like Nadya who will share her feelings like that, just as I am grateful to have a husband and girlfriend who are both willing to defend me, although I never for one millisecond felt offended. Nadya raised excellent questions which need to be asked and regularly. Namaste. By the way, I’d sure like to learn about Christmas traditions in South Africa! 

   Onward.
   Our chosen tannenbaum, sparse in branches and very slender at his trunk, offered up lots of space for fillers when first we propped him up in the living room. But his branches are on the weak side of strong, so while I craved to wire up pruned boxwood, Bradford pear, and dried oak tree branches, that was simply not possible, The poor little guy would have toppled.

   So I collected from around the house as many dried flowers and ancient rose bouquets as I could find. I also added broken up bits of tumbleweed, dried hydrangeas, crispy golden gladiolus leaves, and feathers from our own birds. You know, lightweight pretty stuff. Things that evoke romance and warmth and life. Things that glow with my favorite colors, too. Plus maybe seventeen store-bought ornaments in only three colors.

   In lieu of an angel or star for the tree topper, this year we’re enjoying something we find equally beautiful and equally meaningful. I twined up a bunch of tumbleweed from western Oklahoma (where the Lazy W ranch brand was originally registered by Handsome’s great-grandfather) dried sage (a wild herb used by Native Americans in purification ceremonies) and tail feathers from our beloved, recently deceased Tom turkey, Sir Clark Grievous.

   So our Christmas tree is symbolically crowned with family and state heritage, delicate natural beauty, a yearning for purity, reverence for other cultures, and  affectionate nostalgia. Clark’s feathers in particular represent all the precious people we continue to love and miss desperately. More importantly, though, his feathers prove that our home is still made beautiful by love even though some of the people we love are not here right now. 
   I am not trying to make you sad. 
We are actually less sad than I expected to be this month. 
We have very strong faith and hope 
that things are as they should be for now 
and that the future is still brimming with miracles.

   Of the eight boxes of tree, mantle, and house decorations I excavated from the attic after Thanksgiving, I have used less than two. The rest is now either back in the attic or waiting at the top of the stairs.

   The restraint feels amazing.

   We are still surrounded in lights and colors and holiday mood; we’re just not drowning in it. Instead, we have room to breathe and love. We have room for new memories. And maybe for a few of those longed for miracles.

Hoping your tree is meaningful to you
and that you fill your home with your own beauty.
Merry Christmassing
xoxoxo

Christmas Parade in Cowtown

   Nestled just off the heart of OKC is a part of town called “Historic Stockyards City” or, as lots of locals call it, “Cowtown.” For more than a century, ranchers and cattlemen from around our beautiful United States have been delivering their delicious cargo here for distribution to hungry, carnivorous people like me.  
   Oklahoma is, after all, at the crossroads of America. We are where four major interstate highways intersect. And we have a lot of cows. And we are the Horse Show Capitol of the World. And I love parades and anything we can do to reinforce the atmosphere of Christmas frivolity without spending a thousand hundred million dollars. I also really like excuses to cuddle with Handsome in the cold. All of that is the background for today’s story. 
   Okay.
I will always have a soft spot in my heart for our state’s blue flag.
Learning about the symbols was my favorite part of fourth grade.

   Every December the good people there in Cowtown erect a tall, festive Christmas tree (you can see it in the background in the photo below) and host a really fun, really different sort of parade to kick off the season. Handsome and I have grown attached to this little local tradition, and that is exactly how we spent this beautiful wintry Saturday morning.
   The air was cold enough to keep our toes numb and our cheeks red, but the sun was so bright and the sky so clear that we felt just perfectly comfy. We cuddled together at the front of an elbow in the parade route and soaked up the Christmastime mood. And let me tell you, there was plenty to go around.
   Longhorns also cuddled as they tiptoed through the bricked streets, unrestrained and unconcerned. These gentle behemoths seemed unnaturally calm in the shadow of a well known steakhouse, Cattlemen’s. 
      A little steam-punk style for Christmas, anyone? This costumed cyclist looped around to wish me a Merry Christmas!
   This sweet creature posed for a moment so we could snap a photo of her equine reindeer antlers. It took no more than twenty seconds for me to start formulating horse decorations for back at the Lazy W. The chicken coop is being entered in a Christmas decorating contest, of course, so why not let the big animals join the fun?
   I almost wet my pants laughing when a baker’s dozen of llamas, festooned to the hilt in Christmas finery, came strutting past. Seriously? They were all wearing hats and carrying teddy bear passengers. Because that’s how llamas roll. I cannot get enough of their skinny little legs and arrogant faces. Awesome. Merry Christmas, Sirs.
   The silly hearted llamas were followed by a very serious pair of saddled up longhorn steer. I have been daydreaming about saddling up our lone buffalo for a while, and after talking it over with Chunk, he is mostly okay with it. 
   This photo above gives me a pretty good mental image. Theoretically. In my imagination. But probably not. Not because I couldn’t do it; I just choose not to.
   The General Lee made a surprise appearance, garnering more whooping and hollering than even the Jolly Old Elf himself. If you happened to see my car show post from summertime, this is the same car. Gyoog-gyoog-gyoog!
   Speaking of General Lee, we saw a small Union group too. During the Civil War, of course, Oklahoma was still Indian Territory. Handsome thinks we would have sided with the Confederacy. I am less convinced, given the fierce cultural conflicts with Native Americans at the time. 
   This gentlewoman and her horse were dressed so elegantly, so festively, in their red and silver and holly garland and feathers… that I felt ridiculously under dressed in the same clothes I wore to a hockey game last night!
These blue eyes caught our breathless attention from a far distance.
   Of the many spirited and creative parade entries this year, my onlooker’s heart goes out to this little girl. She was dressed in cowgirl pink from head to toe. She waved and smiled at every single person watching. She yelled “Merry Christmas” to me. And she kept tight, gentle control of her horse the entire time. Merry Christmas, sweet nameless girl.
   The very last piece of the parade, of course, was Cowboy Santa. This is me waving frantically to get his attention. 
   Never. Even. Looked. At. Me. In fact, his wagon seemed to speed up a bit as they wheeled around the bed where we stood watching.
   Chances are that wasn’t the real Santa, anyway. But it did hurt my feelings a little.
   As the parade wrapped up, we joined the happy crowds walking around the shops in Cowtown and Handsome bought me early Christmas gifts, because that’s how he rolls. We talked excitedly about entering next year’s parade ourselves, and I relished the feeling of Christmas coming to a rolling boil in my bones.
However you celebrate, 
Whatever your local traditions,
Wishing everyone a mid-month dose of easy fun!
Merry Christmastime!
xoxoxo

Just One Strand for Charlie Brown

   This year Handsome and I decided to follow a yearning we’ve both had for years, that is to find and decorate a skimpy, humble, happy little Charlie Brown Christmas Tree. 
   In years past we both I always buckled to the pressure of big and bold, doubtlessly playing silent games of comparison for the girls’ comfort and approval.  This is one of the hidden, if slightly treacherous, blessings of having accepted our circumstances for now: We are learning how to feather our nest for ourselves now and then.
Brief Side Note: Can a thing be slightly treacherous? 
Isn’t it either treacherous or not? 
Are there in fact varying degrees of treacherousness? 
I don’t think so. 
But there are varying extremes of grief. 
And there are many shades of gray in matters of
dealing with grief. 
We’re getting stronger, FYI.
xoxoxo
   Soooo… early one recent evening we found our boots and jackets and took a chilly but romantic walk through the Pine Forest next door. We found about a dozen worthy tannenbaum candidates, including some table top babies and more than a few Griswald-style giants. You know what I mean. The kind that inevitably houses rabid squirrels and such. The kind that looks like an appropriate size in the context of a FOREST but is sorta not appropriate in anybody’s living room.
   Our voluptuous momma cat Fast Woman accompanied us on the trek. She was fascinated by our path and scratched trees left and right to encourage the search. Two of the horses heard our noises and, possibly thinking we were Sasquatch, came galloping and screaming up to the forest edge. Daphne especially was steaming and panting. What the heck was actually going through her equine mind? I’d love to know.
   After about half an hour we settled on a tree close to seven feet tall, once trimmed, but certainly on the lean side of life. If our tree was bacon it wouldn’t be bacon; it would be Sizzle-Lean. It would tell other bacon trees to move over, cause now there’s something leaner.
   The trunk is skinny enough for us to wedge into an Ozarka water bottle which I found by chance in the barn. The Ozarka bottle also seems to be the perfect hydration system. And with a few household screws twisted into the base, our tree stands nice and straight. We pretty much feel like geniuses around here. Behold our egos.
   In years past, with our bigger, thicker trees, the Christmas light loading took a while. It required some serious unraveling and a dab of  yoga prowess. It was a job.
   Not so this year.
   We still chose to make the lighting a ceremonious event by making sure we were both there, turning off all the other lights in the room, and generally being in the right spirit. We even watched the Charlie Brown Christmas special. But I think it took about three minutes. No, make that two. 
   We used exactly one strand of white lights, and our tree is simply glorious. 
Glorious to us, you guys.
Glorious to us.
   I know everybody usually shares photos of their trees in fully decorated pomp and circumstance, but we’re feeling very peaceful and slow paced around the farm right now. Really soaking up the moments and trying to enjoy the truest joys of the season.
   I might decorate it tomorrow, now that our lights are up. Handsome also traced the front of our house with white lights, which pleases my soul. 
Life is good. 
Christmas is Merry.
I Love Our Tree.
xoxoxoxo

Sea Monkey Conception

   It was Wednesday afternoon. The farm was clean and quiet, and nothing on the schedule threatened interruption. The water tank had been prepared, and the time was right.

   So I lit a few candles and pressed play on my favorite love songs album, thinking Ewan McGregor and Nicole Kidman singing Come What May from the Moulin Rouge soundtrack would be a good beginning for such a risky venture.
   I ripped open the square paper packet of instant live eggs and tenderly peppered them into the distilled, treated water. Someone in the other room started playing a weepy violin, which is weird because nobody else was here and no one I know plays the violin. Was that an omen?
   The eggs fell like glitter through the water. I covered the little plastic tank with my favorite cotton tea towel, the one with owls on it, thinking maybe the image of a fierce predator will help ensure the Sea Monekys’ safety.
   A quiet, trepidatious beginning to be sure. But a beginning nonetheless.