Lazy W Marie

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

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a charlie and rhett story

Read this short story in your best Rod Serling voice:

Imagine if you will, a ten degree morning on an ice covered farm. The sun is brilliant, bouncing wide, metallic sheets of light off of every surface. The wind is mercifully nonexistent.

Everywhere you look is a snow dusted pine tree or a pile of oak leaves, crunchy and frosted and as still as a sculpture. Chickens are clucking, a goose is skronking, and horses are whinnying their demands for breakfast.

Now you see a happy and energetic Puppy following his giant best friend German Shepherd during morning chores. They are flipping like fish and bounding across the weather stiffened tundra. Their claws mostly grip the ice, but not always. Still, they run and chase and beg the Lady to play fetch and keepaway with a frozen softball. When the Lady throws it, the puppy runs with absolute abandon, no thought given to its trajectory or obstacles or ice or anything.

The Lady is not great at throwing. The Puppy has not learned this yet.

The softball lands on this side of a wire fence, in the vicinity of a young steer, his face buried in a pile of soft hay. The puppy is exactly one second behind the ball. He hits his brakes. His claws fail. He skids on his bottom, pliable young puppy legs splayed, toward the ice dusted Thing With Horns. Thankfully, the fence is between them, but still they bump, giant face to small body, and the Thing With Horns emits the deepest, most baritone objection the puppy has ever heard. A rare sound, it startles the Lady too.

The Puppy regroups, retreats to the Lady without the prize, and checks over his shoulder to see that the fence is still in place. Fetch and Keepaway continue but not without some anxiety.

The End.

a farm story and a message about starting not quite from scratch

This morning I found this story in my blog drafts, sketched out August, 2021. I remember this day clearly and hope you will enjoy the story. It was in 2023 that we lost both Marigold and Romulus. So these memeories are bittersweet, heavy on the sweet. xoxo

Last weekend we had a scare with Romulus that evolved into a sweaty, chaotic, hilarious episode with Little Lady Marigold. It all ended well, thankfully; and after some reflection it also provided me a lesson about compounding progress. About how despite the way things sometimes feel, we are not often starting truly from scratch. We may take a few steps backwards sometimes, but good progress tends to stick. Square One, no matter how it looms behind us, may be nothing to fear.

((summertime nephews visiting marigold))

This is what happened.

I had walked outside just three or four minutes before sunrise, to greet the day and walk around saying hello to all the Farmily. By the time I reached Retirement Village (where Romulus and LLM reside), the sun was glowy peach and all the gardens shone dewy. Roosters in the south coop crowed their greetings, and Marigold was baa-ing; but Romulus was nowhere to be found. He was gone.

Our big, regal, black and white llama had liberated himself in order to join the Middle Field Bachelors, his progeny Meh one of them. Llamas have a lot to prove to the world, and their violent competitiveness is the main reason we had them separated. Happily, the horses were too engrossed in their early breakfast to pay attention to Romulus’ unnerving stares, and Meh (this surprised me the most) was visibly terrified of his Dad. It would have been funny if it wasn’t a little bit sad.

What happened next was a long series of cautious attempts by me to lure Romulus back to Retirement Village while Handsome repaired the fence damage caused during the predawn Llama Liberation.

Revolucion!

In the midst of all of this, we had to keep Little Lady Marigold more or less inside Retirement Village and Meh and the horses more or less far away, despite a necessarily open gate between them. The trick here, as you can imagine, is that all of these activities are precisely the opposite of what all the animals wanted to do. Probably, Murphy’s Law was made official on a hobby farm.

Also, my system was short one cup of strong coffee and Handsome greatly preferred to be watching cartoons at that hour. Also, at this point, Klaus was unsure of his role in this drama. He swarmed the scene, waiting for instruction.

It’s fine.

After almost ninety minutes of frustratingly slow progress peppered by the frustration of sudden retreats, Romulus decided all on his own to slip nonchalantly back into his fenced yard and help himself to breakfast, as if nothing had happened at all. At the exact moment that he did so, his timid sheep companion bolted. I mean she moved like quicksilver, a grey and white blur, through the open gate, past the pond, and straight into the unlikely comfort of eight strong horse legs. She hid behind and among the horses as if they were her big brothers and I was the school yard bully come to steal her lunch money. Had she already forgotten all the little moments we had shared recently, all the love at our fingertips? Meh was as nonplussed as I have ever seen him. Klaus salivated audibly, his desire to give chase an obscene visitor in the room. My sweet, exasperated husband who just-wants-one-day-off-for-the-love-of-all-things-holy yelled, “Well she’s gone! Just let her go!” And threw his hands up in defeat.

It’s fine. It’s very, very fine and okay. We’re fine.

Let me tell you that the first chapter of llama drama that day was far outshined by the second chapter of herding victory.

In my flipflops and cotton pajamas, I chased and lured and lured and begged and chased and pleaded with Marigold to return to the safety of Retirement Village, but it was like a woven straw Chinese handcuff, one of those finger traps from childhood, remember? The more I struggled to “help” her, the less she wanted my help. The literal distance between us grew, and I started to worry about the figurative distance. Was she actually afraid of me?

So in desperation and maybe surrender, we employed Klaus. His natural herding instincts ignited like wildfire! As light and fast as his quarry was, this beast was smarter and more powerful. He gave chase like a missile, he pulled back to widen his circle, he tightened it again, he lassoed her uphill and across the middle field. And despite how much he fears the horses himself, having narrowly survived an angry hoof stomping when he was a puppy, he eventually needled her away from the safety of their tall legs. Smiling and focused and perfectly on task, our boy was magificent. Living out his purpose and thrilled about it.

She ran and ran and ran, like nothing I have ever seen before. A tiny poof of dirty wool with stick legs and bug eyes, she screamed and slipped through the three wire fence near my big vegetable garden (please god no!). She passed the giant hydrangeas, skeetered across the wood deck, and stood stubbornly in the shade, near the fruit trees and south coop. Cornered, without the horses to protect her. Klaus standing guard. Everyone panting.

I crept around the bonfire and slowly opened that big red cattle gate, saying little prayers the whole time that she would see the open invitation. She did. She walked in. I closed the gate. It was all over in a moment. She ate breakfast with Romulus, very casually, as if nothing had happenedand everything was normal.

It was touch and go for a bit, and it definitely drained our big sweet Shepherd of all his morning energy, but it was done.

This is the part about not fearing Square One:

The relief of having ROmulus and LLM in their safe place was somewhat eclipsed by the fear that LLM was now afraid of me. That all of the cuddly progress we had been making lately seemed now shattered by the adrenalous chasing drama. For the next few days I was extra gentle with her, demading nothing, offering her food and space and sweet talking and gentleness, honestly apologizing to her sweet spirit for the terror that morning.

Would we still be friends?

The answer is, yes.

After two or three tentative interactions that next week, things returned pretty quickly to where we left off. She remembered in just a few feedings that we were friends, that I was not there to hurt her. Gradually she allowed me to tap her narrow snoot, stroke her cheek with the outside of my finger, and talk to her while she ate contentedly. I thought maybe we were back to Square One or worse, but that wasn’t the case at all. We had retained most of the affectionate progress.

Love was still at our fingertips, err, hooves.

((the first week Romulus lived here, 2013, I spent hours sitting with him, earning his trust. He called me thirsty))

Continuing January 2024:

This story was good for me to revisit, two and a half years later. Life is full of good projects and efforts that sometimes take several steps backwards, and I don’t know about you, but when this happens I often worry that I am starting all the way over. I resist Square One almost with fear. This thought process is so exhausting! We don’t want to lose the progress we have made; and this is understandable.

The more I pay attention, though, and the more I see patterns develop over time, the more I believe that much of the work we do in life tends to stick. We learn and do really good, satisfying work. We make mistakes and slip up, we learn new and better tricks, we gather strength and practice the basics and try fancy stuff. Things happen to us that are very much outside our control. We respond to them and cope. We heal. We spiral upwards, sometimes slowly, sometimes at an indiscernible rate. Then sometimes we skyrocket! and get dizzy from the sudden progress.

But over time, we do grow. Even in winter, in seasons of waiting and resting, we are alive. Putting down roots, saving nutrients for the next burst of life. We can trust that.

I think that more often than not, even on days when llamas escape for no reason and sheep run away from us despite our hard won friendship, we can trust that good things generally return to normal, or even better than normal. Our efforts are not wasted. Square One is fine, too, if you ever do happen to land there again, nothing to fear. Because by then you will be changed. You will be a different person there than you were the first time around.

Trust your progress.
Love your sheep.
Keep an eye on wandering llamas.
It’s going to be okay.
XOXOXO

friday 5 at the farm, oct 20, 2023

Hooowwwww is it already Friday again? This week has been another one packed with joys, both big and small, just shouldered and layered together like sardines in a too small can, and I love it. But I am stunned by the passage of time. Again.

How about a quick Friday 5 post to remind our future selves that yes, life is full and beautiful even when it races past at lightspeed? Okay.

CONNECTION: We have been fortunate to spend lots Of quality time with loved ones lately. Last Friday (I know that is technically last week, but I have not documented this joy yet) I drove to the city and savored a three hour coffee date with Kellie. We had not had any appreciable time alone in probably a year, and I missed her terribly. It was a soul refresher! We also had a glorious, casual, festive weekend with our dear friends Rex and Cathy, hip-hoppin around a local fall festival and then spending an afternoon carving jack o’lanterns and eating chili by the bonfire. On Monday, I had a wonderful visit with my Aunt Marion, who I have not written much about here but who has been central to my formation. She is at a stage in life when I appreciate every hour with her and regret the ones I have avoided. The next night, Mom and I met at Oklahoma Christian University in Edmond to listen to the author of Killers of the Flower Moon. That evening has been soaking into my bones every waking minute since. So fascinating! Wednesday was my sweet Dad’s birthday, and the whole local gang descended onto one poor waitress’ table in Midwest City to celebrate. I took a batch of triple chocolate cupcakes and sparkling “66” candles, and we all had a great time. I sure hope he felt loved. Today we had surprise guests, Mickey and his new lady friend, and my running friend Jeff! This weekend we have a few more easy social plans, and our tanks will be full to overflowing. I really value packing in easy but meaningful connections like this before the holidays, before the weather turns, before chaos threatens to rush things even more.

ANIMALS: The Farm-ily is doing well. The chickens are cooped up right now, partly to give my fall seedlings a chance to establish, and partly because of recent reports of the Avian Flu. Chanta had one half day of diarrhea, but it resolved quickly, thank goodness. I hope it was as simple as eating a bit of mold or mushrooms. He is great now. Meh has been a cuddle bug this week, and Dusty thinks that every time he sees me walk outside I most likely have carrots in my pockets. We owe this development to Cathy, who got the horses hooked on carrots while they farm sat for us in September (hitherto to their treats were mostly peppermints and apples). All three of the bachelors are getting that early autumn fuzz now, and it’s beyond soft. It’s sweater weather for them too! Klaus is on a personal mission to either befriend or exterminate two particular squirrels who jet back and forth across the meditation path all day. It consumes all of his available physical stamina as well as most of his waking thoughts, I am pretty sure. An armadillo is dramatically renovating three lawns for us, no charge. Very generous. We do have a big, exciting Farm-ily announcement to make soon, but I am going to try and hold it in for a while. This will be a challenge for me.

DOMESTICITY & THOUGHTS: I spent some time in the Apartment this week, editing furniture and collections, squaring up my sewing supplies for winter projects, and generally cleaning and reordering things. I have moved my writing desk up here, too, which is both smart and luxurious. It is easier to stay focused on writing with a dedicated spot that keeps me from seeing half a million other tasks at arm’s length, or hearing the tv. We are decorated nice and spooky for Halloween and are already excited for Thanksgiving and Christmas. The whole family is going to be together again! Twice in one year, and I am so PUMPED!! My mind is buzzing, but in a calm and pleasant way. I could sit here and type out one blessing or miracle or answer to prayer and be here forever. You might not believe it all. The flow of goodness in our life right now, really always but maybe we are sometimes sloe to acknowledge it? is staggering. This flow of Love is a strong, nourishing, safe river of cold, mineral rich water that we need and love and treasure. I have been practicing a few mental exercises that keep me in the conduit frame of mind, so that I can receive and then share the goodness over and over again, letting it flow freely through me, without feeling the need to hoard any of it or reject it or let it leak out before my thirst is quenched. If this is interesting to you, message me and we will talk!

HEALTH: News on the health front here is great. Handsome’s stitches came out some time ago, and his wound is fully healed. We continue to be actively thankful for this. because that bizarre freak accident could have been life altering. Or life ending. Not to be dramatic; it’s just true. He also has been taking some chest pains seriously and sought more aggressive attention from his cardiologist. We are extremely happy to report that his physical self is thriving and safe. His mental load and overall stress levels are beyond the scope, though, so that is as serious as if we had received a scary medical report. As for me, all I can say is that a couple of days ago while running, I tripped over literally nothing and fell forward in a full speed, momentum-driven, cartwheel kind of way, straight to the sidewalk. I was so embarrassed, that I just laid there for a few seconds, hoping the ladies walking up to me would just leave me for dead and pretend they saw nothing. One hip bone, one elbow, and both knees and both hands were scraped up and bloody, and my left hand was bruised. I am thankful it was not worse, and I would like to give a shout out to the older gentlemen who witnessed my actual fall form grace, continued to speed walk past me, and called out, “SOMETIMES YOU GOTTA BLEED!” Thank you sir. Thank you indeed.

GARDENS: The farm gardens are still beautiful. Summer treasures are exhausted and changing but still producing too, which blows my mind. Tomatoes, peppers and fragrant herbs are the big show offs right now, but soon abut twenty brassica plants and several patches of salad greens will take center stage. I do not have the heart to tear out a single thing, not even the blackening Tithonia or zinnias with powdery mildew. I relish the crispy sepia shades, and I am happy to just keep things hydrated and delay the culling. We are still Grand Central Station for pollinators, anyway, so why rob them these final feasts? I have planted a few beds with fall treasures and swapped out the front door and kitchen door planters a little bit. Nothing too crazy, just small adjustments for the barely different weather and my shifting moods. I am in the market for more asparagus, two apple trees, more spring bulbs, and more wildflower seeds.

Okay friends, I hope your week was also packed with a variety of joys like sardines in a too small can. I hope you are approaching your weekend with full hearts and tired bodies and enough space for a couple of adventures, work worth doing well, and all the pleasures life can afford you. It is okay to be happy, even in the midst of tragedy. It is okay to enjoy your life. It is okay to choose to believe that the best is yet to come.

Be happy on purpose.
XOXOXO

a few of my favorite average moments at the farm

Sometimes a few average things happen here at the farm that take my breath away and leave me buzzing with pleasure. If you have a moment to join me, I would love to read something from your everyday life that thrills you.

After weeks of raking thin flakes of hay from large, tightly wound bales, the moment always comes when the dense core is exposed and everything relaxes. That feeling of my strong metal rake toothing itself into the final thick layer of reluctant dry grass is so exciting. I can feel the breakthrough about to happen. Then I feel the whoosh, the great exhale and collapse of all that necessary tension. I relish the sight of hay falling in heaps and layers to the ground. The core is solid and heavy but manageable, and it tips over with a little effort. A giant cylinder of food for the horses. For a few weeks after this, the hay comes in thicker, friendlier sheets. And I always crave to make cinnamon rolls for someone.

Every sunset and every daybreak is special, and I am always thankful to catch either. I especially love dramatic skies, purple clouds with hot pink underbellies, backlit metallic banks of clouds, streaky sunrays extending further than necessary and exactly as far as they want. I love it when the western sky reflects across the farm onto the bowl of the eastern sky, and vice versa. Our house sits in a way that displays the roundness of the heavens. And I love it when the various colored lights clings to trees and buildings and, at very special moments, animals. Light blessings. Kisses everywhere.

How sensual to walk around the gardens and smell herbs recently disturbed. Someone has been scraping through mint and oregano and rosemary. Someone has made a snack of Thai basil. Lemon balm, tomato vines, parsley. All of it available to everyone. Cats or chickens emerge, peaceful. I would grow a garden just for these silent, fragrant moments.

Every morning after breakfast chores, Klaus and I walk the front paths to pray and lay groundwork for the day ahead. Lately the prairie grasses have ripened into warm colors and many have grown their feathery tassels and plumes. I scout for blood grass and sumac, and he scouts for deer. I love the ever tightening corners where pine trees flank the walkway and threaten to grow into canopies above us. I love the profusion of yellow wildflowers. I love the flattened areas in the meadow where deer have been sleeping. I especially love the joy on Klaus’ face when he meets his “babies” and they leap and sprint away from him with unbelievable grace.

When the weather is just right, hanging laundry outside is a great pleasure. I love seeing bedsheets and towels billowing on clean breezes while working in the garden. I love catching the horses nap beneath the fabric. I love the heavy scent of ozone that comes with us back to the house with that basket full of dry, crisp fabric.

Sometimes I visit the chicken coop and discover eggs so recently laid they are still hot to the touch. Sometimes I check squash and pumpkin vines and discover that yesterday’s fruits have doubled in size. Sometimes the morning glories are still blooming at lunchtime, and woody sunflower stalks that had broken from their own glorious weight are suddenly growing new shoots. These quiet details, all proof of Life that wants more and more of its own energy. Amazing and encouraging.

Happy Thursday, friends.
May you notice and swallow whole
every pleasure available to you.
XOXOXO

rooted & grounded

And just like that, we have leaped across the verdant threshold between seasons. My heart is filled all over again with excitement for the coming gardens and with hope for so many yet-unanswered prayers. I know I say that a lot, about hope, but please know that we also celebrate the brick-and-mortar resolutions, the answers, the rewards of waiting and hoping, all the time. Our world lately has been riddled with both good news (really good news), encouragement to expect more of it, and some healthy perspective about how much worse life often is for others. Gratitude is not strong enough a word to express how I feel about it all. I am in awe of what God has been doing for us and the people near us.

Jessica planting some joyful color in her apartment courtyard garden…xoxoxo

Seeds are germinating left and right. The Peeps have officially outgrown their indoor trough home and have moved to the flight pen outside. Broccoli, cauliflower, and cabbage starts are suddenly voluptuous; their neighboring snow peas are tendriling upwards on arched cattle panels; and the Mouse Garden is a thick, highly textured bed of kale. Kale!! The Yukon Gold potato box has sprouted with food, and what so far looks like just green confetti will very soon be full ruffles of spinach, kale, arugula, and fancy lettuces. Last year’s chicks, now fully mature hens, are laying eggs regularly and eating all the wild clover I can pull from our new watermelon patch. The horses are shedding as thickly as the cottonwood is about to be blooming, and speaking of blooms, all four of our fruit trees seem to have kept their precious springtime flowers and are all set up for a heavy season of apples, peaches, and plums.

The house stays warm enough most days, now, even with the heater off and the windows open, to keep a sourdough starter going, and I bake fresh bread as often as we crave it. We stay busy outdoors so much longer these days, with the gradually later sunsets and mild weather, just moving easily and with great pleasure from one task to the next. Klaus keeps us company the whole time, and it is wonderful to find him exhausted instead of restless at the end of a day well spent. (My husband says he feels the same way about being able to exhaust me, ha! Hibernation is not for everyone.)

Our middle field especially is greening up, and just a moderate effort to scoop up and relocate manure is making a big difference. The compost bins have stayed so full that I recently started a second, much larger area for experimenting with a faster decomposition method. But now I think it’s too far away from a water source. Oh well, the honeybees love it!

My little herb garden is waking up from winter, and it is so fun to try and visualize what will return, where the truly blank spots are, how to reshape and replenish the small area. It’s a luscious intimacy, to know a garden for a length of time, to become familiar with its dimensions and habits and needs and wants. To know how it behaves in each season, what is asks of the gardener, what it offers in return. In the spaces between perennials, I am scattering seeds like cinnamon basil, dill, zinnias, and more. By Easter Sunday everything should be erupting there. Already, in this garden and in the areas flanking the vegetable gate, day-lilies and vinca have returned. I am so excited about the gomphrena and Mexican petunia. For now my eyes feast on the Jane magnolia petals falling all over the front sidewalk.

We have been craving to host an outdoor yoga night and will do this soon. The weather is just so close to being reliable, and we have only a short list of deck repairs to make first. Local and interested in moonlit yoga and meditation? Stay tuned!

The first three months of this gorgeous new year have been filled with incredible Love, satisfying work, plenty of restoration and deep breathing, and just good, plain, happy daily pleasures. Life at the W is not without stress and certainly out hearts have aches like everyone’s; but we have laid hold of some powerful antidotes and some very agreeable reminders for each other about what matters most, about how to shrug off distractions and quickly refuse energy siphons, and how to really sink in and enjoy the moments. Magnify pleasures. Minimize irritations. When either of us buckles from some outside pressure, I think we are pretty good at showing each other grace and welcoming each other back to paradise. Because paradise, really, is how it so often feels. For these things and much more, I am so deeply grateful.

One last update, I just finished The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle. My sister Angela had recommended it, and I found it to be not just thought provoking but deeply confirming of so much I have already been considering. Lots to discuss if you have read this!

Happy Sunday, friends, and happy springtime!

Rooted and Grounded in Love
XOXOXO