Lazy W Marie

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

plant health, mental health

Fourth grade Garden Club is always a delight. Every time we gather, the kids inspire belly laughs, and I appreciate gardening from a kids-eye-view all over again. On Facebook lately I have been sharing their zingers here and there, Kids Say the Darndest Things type stuff, but today I want to share something that encouraged me in a whole other sphere.

In addition to planting mustard seeds and checking the progress of our sweet peas and onions, the Garden Club lesson this week called for reviewing the basic needs of a plant and how those compare to what humans also need: Shelter (or location and soil), sunlight, fresh air, water, and nutrition.

Our lead volunteer displayed a potted plant that was pretty obviously neglected and canvassed the room for ideas about what might have gone wrong. A smattering of well informed answers rang out: “Not enough water!” “No nutrients!” “Couldn’t breathe!” Then, just as we were switching gears, at least four little voices from around the room suggested, “It’s depressed!” This garnered a mix of giggles and agreement. To be fair, every answer garners a mix of giggles and agreement. The whole group is constantly poised, for example, ready for one particular classmate to say, “My name is Christopher and I like chicken nuggets!” It literally slays every time. Christopher is jockeying for his own Netflix comedy special.

So. The moment passed quickly, as do so many high vibration moments in fourth grade, and I thought little of it until later in the afternoon. Seeds watered and tiny gloves and plastic spades shuffled away until our next meeting, the kids retreated to their regular classrooms. The Master Gardeners were debriefing a little bit. The school counselor happened to join us that day, and she seemed to enjoy hearing what we thought of our experience with her kids, who she clearly knows well and loves very much. I recounted the cuteness of their depression hypothesis for the ailing plant. She smiled, nodded, and gave some insight.

The school counselor has been teaching the entire student body ways to recognize that someone is not feeling their best, even when they don’t say so. They are learning to recognize signs of suffering in each other, simple clues that their friends or family members are not having their needs met. She has been offering them new vocabulary for describing how they feel, for understanding how others may feel, and for finding help from adults when needed. In other words, they are destigmatizing the human experience of not being okay; and they are building some pretty serious emotional literacy in the process. I was floored.

Just imagine the idea that a plant might be depressed. And imagine that meeting its basic physical needs will help it thrive again. Then apply that loving wisdom to human beings. Friends, can we please bookmark this topic for a longer conversation soon?

This curriculum would be amazing in any setting, and how much more thrilling to see the students naturally translate their knowledge over to plant life! Children tend to have an innate sense for wellness or discomfort, way earlier than they can verbalize it. This student body will have such an advantage in life.

I am so encouraged that this fresh new batch of humans is being armed with empathy, insight, and vocabulary to walk through the world more aware of themselves, more able to live kindly with others.

All of this plus, of course, the skills to grow a garden.

(How young is too young to recommend reading The Well Gardened Mind?)

Thanks for visiting this happy topic with me, friends! If fourth graders can learn to tend their emotional gardens, we can too. Hang in there.

tulip

Spring is here.
Every winter has its end.
xoxoxo

would you rather, gardeners’ edition!

Friends, I am shin-deep in pruned off rose branches and dried pampas grass clippings. My ponytail is full of shredded oak leaves and dried manure, and all my jeans are loose from excessive wear and grimy from, well, everything. Seed trays, still devoid of green sprouts, are filled with what looks like brownie batter and are also wrapped in plastic, coaxing all that sunny-window magic they can to germinate tomato seeds and other treasures. Sugar snap peas have soaked overnight and are ready to find a spot outside. Potatoes are soon to follow.

My trusty work gloves are getting as much use as my best kitchen apron, and I love it all. I am giddy from it, and the season is just getting started. My imagination for the outdoor spaces is in overdrive this year. I have more construction ideas and growing inspiration than ever before, or maybe it always feels that way?

Let’s play a game! Let’s play “Would You Rather, Garden Edition!”

Please share as many of your answers as you can. I love to hear how other gardeners think and feel!

Would You Rather…

Rehabilitate on old, overgrown garden… or start with blank earth and design your own? (I always want to rehab spaces. Driving around neighborhoods and small towns, especially abandoned properties, I cannot resist visualizing how I would change things. Rip out old shrubs, prune trees, double dig weedy flower beds, what would grow here?  How could we change the eye line? Etc.)

Would You Rather…

Grow only food… or grow only ornamentals? ( I would choose food and edible flowers and herbs, but grow them in artful arrangements.)

Would You Rather…

Win a huge lottery-style budget to spend all in one gardening year… or win free, unlimited garden labor for that year? (I would choose the budget win, and spend it on long term investments like trees, perennials, and masonry supplies. Because I love working outside and Handsome does pretty much anything I cannot do, physically.)

Would You Rather…

Have access to unlimited flats of healthy annual color… or have perennials guaranteed for life? (This question pops into my head every time I visit places like Six Flags, where their annuals beds and baskets are overflowing every single day, and I just know they have greenhouses full of replacements for the inevitable losses. Still, I would choose perennials that never fail.)

Would You Rather…

Grow all the roses… or all the hydrangeas? (Hydrangeas for me, only if you force me to choose! I have several of both at the farm.)

Would You Rather…

Grow only old fashioned, stand by heirloom vegetables… or only the new, fun hybrids, bred to solve modern problems?

Would You Rather…

Have a gardening mentor… or be a gardening mentor?

me with my mentor and my mentee xoxoxo

Would You Rather…

Invest a windfall amount of money in statuary or other garden art… or invest it in gardening machinery? Tell me what you would buy!

Would You Rather…

Spend your November cash on paper whites and poinsettias for the holidays… or spend it on tulip bulbs for spring? (I always spend my winter gardening money on immediate gratification then regret, come spring, that I did not buy at least a few tulip bulbs. Every year I resolve to plan better. Including this year.)

Would You Rather…

Use chipped wood mulch… or well rotted organic compost?

Would You Rather…

Wear boots or golashes… or flip flops?

(…or maybe your Grandpa’s old leather boots?)

Would You Rather…

Work outside in the morning… or in the evening? (Tough call. I feel extremely lucky that most every day I can flit form task to task at my liesure, more or less following the sun. If I had to choose, though? Morning.)

These are fun to track in wild thought, and they can help us refine our wishes and priorities; but how wonderful that we rarely have to choose. We can grow and design and indulge our senses in myriad ways. We can do things differently every year if the mood strikes us.

What projects are on your early March calendar? Tell me everything!

“And forget not that the earth
delights to feel your are feet
and the winds long to play with your hair.”
~Khalil Gibran
XOXOXOXO

indian summer and back again (and 5 friday photos)

An especially lush few months in Oklahoma made the end of August feel like June. The pond was high and glassy, the gardens verdant, almost tropical. All the way through Labor Day we luxuriated in one gorgeous week after another, scooping up a cool, mild daybreak here and there, just for extra credit.

Then we noticed the zinnias and gomphrena fading a little and the basil going to seed, even as the deep green leaves grew as big as your hand. The pond stayed high, but the goat head stickers finally made their unhappy appearance. (They were several weeks late, so we will try not to complain, but this is a sure sign of the end of the salad days.) We eventually halted daily pool maintenance and braced ourselves for the inevitable sight of that 20,000-gallon green lagoon. We knew fall was creeping up, but the afternoons stayed so humid. Pumpkin spice erupted on the scene, too. It was a mixed-up couple of weeks.

I was on the verge of making peace with the season change from summer to fall when the season changed again, back to a veritable heat wave. The wildflower meadows burst again with pollen. Overnight the pepper plants grew heavy with red, green, and purple treasures. The horses grazed lazily with sweaty bellies and swooshing tails. The afternoons were noisy with cicadas, and I was into it. I had even made peace with the grasshoppers, for chewing up my cannas.

 

When my husband noticed a “peak hours” electricity price event and the weather station said we could expect another heat wave, he cleaned the pool with feverish delight. I bought the last watermelon still languishing at the store, and we rallied for at least a few more days of summer. In late September.

Carpeing the diems, you know?

Well, we enjoyed two more swims this past week, and that watermelon was pure, sugary heaven. I made sure to feed the rinds to the horses slowly, knowing it would be many months before another such offering. I saved two big hunks for filling with seed for Shoulder Chicken. We made eye contact, and she understood the importance of this treat.

And now, our second summer is over. Nobody who has lived in Oklahoma very long is really surprised. The temperatures can swing from season to season effortlessly. We just take each week as it comes. Carpeing the diems to the best of our abilities and imaginations.

Today the skies slid opened and poured out all the promised floodwaters. The temperature at daybreak (72 degrees) was probably the warmest we will see for a while. And I am drinking coffee in the afternoon. This never happens when it’s hot outside. Yesterday I added some fall plants to my containers outside and some Halloween fun to a few corners of the house inside. We bought ingredients to bake for an upcoming pie contest in the City. And our bookshelves are loaded with good reading for when it’s too wet to enjoy the outdoors.

Summer 2018 was beautiful, satisfying, and pleasure-filled. We miss it already. I also learned a lot and felt like the work here was well done. But Autumn will bring her own smorgasbord of pleasures and work worth doing. I’m eager to sink into it all. 

“Slow down, you move too fast.”
Simon & Garfunkel
XOXOXOXO

 

friday 5 at the farm, camera roll short stories

Because, as always, life is bursting with long, deep, worthwhile stories but also, therefore, are my days too full to properly tell them all, how about a quick look at cell phone snapshots from the previous few days? I’ll hit the high points.

Oklahoma Weather: Depending on your perspective and chosen activity, our weather lately has been either gloriously cool and wet or murderously humid. You have to admit, though, it is wonderful to be a week and a half deep in August sunshine and see the ponds and lakes overflowing instead of burning up to cracked-apart mudholes as so often happens this time of year. And we could easily be in triple digits again. Yes, we have mosquitoes, and yes, running and working outdoors can be challenging; but the gardens are bonkers! The hay meadows are lush and heavy with big round bales, freshly cut. And the Lazy W chickens are sure happy, too. Egg production is up from 4 per day to 11 or 13. I’ll take it! 

Nourishment: So much great food. Every day I am learning more details and themes about what my body needs to feel great and not only get the most from my workouts (so different right now) but also stay feeling amazing for the rest of the workday.

Except for Tuesday, when I ate one million and a half cashews (fail number one), and Wednesday, when I let myself get too hungry during the thunderstorms and ate a third of a box of Triscuits (fail number two), I have paid good attention to nutrients and the size of my meals and just overall stressing way less about stuff. I will write more about this in an upcoming health post, but the whole shift away from running has kind of messed with my mind a little.

The photo below was from Monday, our traditional weekly pasta meal. Whole wheat noodles (LOVE them) with fresh garden tomatoes, mushrooms, zucchini, and some shredded chicken breast. Add garden fresh basil, obviously. So filling and tasty! And I felt that ticklish, content feeling while eating it with no regrets later. Unlike the day I inhaled the truckload of cashews.

Shameless Sweaty Selfie: Taken after a particularly exhilarating 9-mile run, fasted but well hydrated. Behold the blotchy skin and copious amounts of sweat. This was only one of two times this week that running felt really great, so I had to capture the moment. The funny thing was that my pace was only about 20 seconds per mile off from the day before when I felt like I was literally going to die, but this run was like flight. Bouncy, strong, filled with that lemon-juice-and-trampoline energy, you know? Endorphin City. (My car was parked.)

New Farm Animal Alert: Oh I forgot to tell you guys we adopted a big strong gorgeous boxing kangaroo! Smiling is his favorite. We love him so much it hurts a little.

And for the grand finale…

Jessica Turns 21: This is certainly one of those milestones that begs a long, fully explored, detailed writing. And I have tried, believe me. While writing for a few hours twice lately, attempting to wrangle the emotion, most of the words got stuck somewhere between my ribcage and my hands. Finally, it seemed like the words that did make it out were meant more for her, privately, And that’s ok. I know most people will understand that. But here is a snapshot of the three of us at dinner this Thursday, a very happy moment in the midst of a very happy life. And look at the words above our heads!! We got our baby back.

And I know in my heart that soon Joc will be joining us in these special moments. I feel it. We believe it.

Okay, onward to the next interesting project!! Handsome is home early today spraying paint on his big behemoth Cadillac. Klaus (the kangaroo) is napping between bouts of fetch and llama chasing. I have a pile of excellent things to do. 

What is new in your world? What snapshots from your cell phone could tell some pretty great stories? 

Happy Friday!! Thanks as always for checking in!

Redeem the Time
XOXOXOXO

 

cultivate

After a gentle, soaking rain this morning, we went outside to survey the farm and accept some of the afternoon’s unexpected sunshine. It was warm, but in the shade still plenty comfortable. My husband loaded the spool of the weedeater and started tracing clean lines around every raised bed, sidewalk, and rock border. This makes us both so happy. Clean edges are heaven.

I fed the animals, played fetch with Klaus, and started pulling weeds from inside those edges. So many weeds lately, everywhere you look. The lushness of our summer weather extends to all forms of life at the Lazy W.

I mentally celebrated the rambling hyacinth bean vines and vibrant gomphrena and zinnias, gave thanks for the tomatoes and basil, and got a jolt of early excitement thinking of the seeds that were planted yesterday, in the bare earth where all forms of zucchini vines had been. (I do hate squash bugs.)

Then I saw the daylilies. They seem to have stopped blooming too early this year, and that’s a shame because they are normally so tall and gorgeous, such a deep, electric shade of orange. Lately, I see only the decapitated stalks, sometimes hanging onto a withered dry bloom, the plants’ brown leaves falling exhaustedly downward. Too early.

I started combing away the dead parts, gloveless, and scooping them into my wheelbarrow already full of weeds and dead stuff. My hands went after the task easily, twisting and pulling old lilies from the pliant earth.

I caught sight of one fistful of green and brown and realized it was not lilies. I was pulling grass, too. But a foot or two up, the grass looked and felt so much like the daylilies that I hadn’t noticed. I threaded my way up and down and forested through the flower bed to see exactly what was growing and where.

I was kind of stunned to see how much grass was choking out the daylily stands, but also relieved. Maybe cleaning everything out would rejuvenate the flower bed.

The thing that really stuck with me was how similar the grass felt to the flowers. An uninvited imitator, a fraud. And one that had gone undetected for a while yet was easily uprooted.

It all leaned hard into my thinking lately about cultivating. Pulling up what doesn’t belong to make room for what does. Cultivating. Feeding what you want to grow. Eliminating what no longer serves you. I couldn’t stop smiling as those grassroots popped out of the damp earth and sprinkled dirt on my face and arms. 

This is a snapshot of the shade garden about a week ago. It has already changed so much, again.

Cultivate.

Cultivate our homes, our work environments. Our routines. Our work products, after all. Our diets. Our social media feeds. Our reading material. Our schedules. 

Cultivate our relationships. Our friendships, family bonds, romances, all of it.

I adore the idea of cultivating our lives in every way. To my thinking, it all comes down to the smallest things. For all the big planning we do, all the garden architecture and herculean seasonal efforts, sometimes we need to kneel down and feel each thing by hand, no gloves, face to face with the details. Uproot the bad habits in the exact moments that you see them and make the yes/no choices one at a time, slowly and mindfully. 

So that all the things we do want more of have all the space they need to flourish. 

Just some food for thought on this gorgeous Sunday afternoon. 

“We must cultivate our own garden.
When man was put in the garden of Eden
he was put there so that he should work,
which proves that man was not born to rest.”
~ Voltaire
XOXOXOXO