Lazy W Marie

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

checking in post equinox

Friends, happy springtime. We made it! Barring the very real possibility of a frosty morning here and there, Oklahoma is on the cheerful upswing towards warmth and rebirth. Today we are drinking in a much needed gentle rainfall, windows open and a cleansing breeze combing through our senses. Clover patches are overtaking the dead lawns. Trees have leaf buds dotting their naked branches. Daffodils assure us that Old Man Winter had his rightful turn and is once again retreating.

Gardeners everywhere are either tending tray after tray of seedlings in their warmest interior rooms or already raking clean their flower beds and ruminating over their raised gardens for planting this year’s treasures. Will food prevail in 2022, to combat the price of groceries, or will more people grow flowers to celebrate a return to life and liberty? How will you pursue your gardening happiness?

((basil sprouts indoors, grown from last year’s seed))

For me, the answer is both, with a heavy lean to all things kitchen. I am also very excited to be actively mentoring a few friends plus Jessica and Alex for a big round of first time garden growers. This is a life pleasure I never knew to anticipate! Maybe the only thing more fun than growing my own garden is helping loved ones grow theirs.

I hope you’ll tune in again in the next few days. I have some stories to share about Miss Scarlett, our rescue calf. I have been sharing quite a bit about her on Facebook and Instagram, but right here on the blog will be a fun place to record more detailed updates for posterity. I also have a brand new interview to share, this one not about Pandemic, and the subject is our very own Handsome, aka BW, aka Farm Daddy, aka Director and Sir and brother and friend to so many. My husband!! I am so excited for this project, but I want it to be clean and sooth when I share it.

Until then, I will be writing stories and potting up seedlings, cleaning oak-leaf-filled garden beds and scrubbing dirty concrete floors. Feeding chickens and filling compost boxes, definitely making bottles for an unbelievably sweet baby cow. Keeping Klaus entertained but not reading much, not this week. In spare moments I have been rereading highlights from The Well Gardened Mind and drawing all kinds of fresh inspiration from that. I’ll find a new book once these two writing projects are complete.

((scarlett and her milk bubbles mouth))

What are you up to this week?

“The return of spring each year
can be endlessly relied on,
and in not dying when we die, we have a sense
of goodness going forward.
This is the garden’s most enduring consolation.”
~Dr. Sue Stuart Smith
The Well Gardened Mind
XOXOXOXO

late winter bliss list

It’s been a while since I have written a Bliss List, and as I sat down to remedy that I doubted my timing.

Russia has invaded Ukraine, I have friends and loved ones in crisis, and Jocelyn is still gone.  Life in general has plenty of heartache and shadows, so as usual I wrestle with the guilt of celebrating, well, anything.

And yet, what always wins that internal wrestling match is the knowledge that counting blessings matters. Giving time and attention to the goodness in our lives only allows it to multiply. Letting God know that we see and appreciate the answers He has already sent us keeps us on the lookout for the answers still coming.

  • Early in January I reflected on a full bodied, joyful holiday season, giving thanks for time with loved ones and the ability to celebrate in our favorite ways. We really had a magical Thanksgiving and Christmas season. Bliss to keep traditions the way we do and make note of the memories.
  • Clearing out the Christmas décor more thoughtfully than ever, taking time to scour the storage space and organize it all by season and holiday. Walking space!! Donations! Law and Order in the attic! Bliss to finally have that mammoth job done.
  • Tender moments with our friend who lost her Mom in January. A memorable sunset the night she passed moving funeral that honestly left us both inspired to live in quieter, more meaningful ways, and a glorious sunny day the afternoon of her burial. Sad, yes, but also bliss to experience that depth of love, even peripherally.
  • Innumerable long, loving conversations with Jess every week. Constant contact and ongoing closeness with her and Alex. A few surprise visits and always fun with the pups! Laika had a little surgery and Bean stayed at the farm for a few days. Bliss to share life with them in such natural, easy ways. Bliss to witness their love story and their growth as people.
  • I baked a snowflake cinnamon bread for Cara, one final holiday baking effort! And that same day Jessica and I went fabric shopping for her new aprons. I absolutely love seeing her thirst for color and flavor, both in the kitchen and in life. Bliss to be out in the world with my girl, to see a friend, and to share some creative energy.
  • In late January, my husband and I celebrated his mom Judy’s birthday, just the two of us. We had a long delayed meal at Saltgrass, the last restaurant she wanted to take us to before she died suddenly. I wrote her a long letter to her, trying to update her on the life events has missed since her passing, an impossible feat, but the act of trying was good for us, and we may have sparked a new tradition. Another sad day, but also, bliss to conjure up her spirit and to share our hushed grief a little bit.
  • Blood donation! This appointment had been rescheduled for many weeks due to weather, covid exposure, and other life complications; so it felt like a major accomplishment to get back on track. My blood pressure was super low that day, but still my left arm sprayed nearly black blood like a fountain all over the chair next to me. Bliss to be healthy enough to do this, to sit still for half an hour reading a book, and then to eat snacks all afternoon, ha.
  • We enjoyed a new Outreach project that fueled and motivated us for several weeks. A single mom and her twelve year old daughter had just arrived in Oklahoma after a long, treacherous journey fleeing wildfires and homelessness in California. We were inundated with donations from friends then went shopping to make sure their new home was well furnished and comfy. Meeting these sweet people after chatting for a few weeks, to prepare, was almost too much. Very emotional. Bliss to connect with strangers and have a small hand in helping them feel at home in our state.
  • Running has felt great the past few months, a gift for which I am so thankful. I have reminded myself that a speed workout once or twice per week is safe and fun. I have built mileage steadily, happily. And I have managed to resist exterior pressures about expensive races. Bliss to run better and on my own terms.
  • Two massive arctic storms, both of which could have been much more destructive, came and went since the holidays. We are so thankful for healthy, safe animals and for continual electricity. One of the storms brought heaps and heaps of gorgeous snow, which was really fun. This most recent storm that brought mostly sleet and ice was still pretty, and I am so thankful that Jess and BW and our other local loved ones stayed safe on the roads. Bliss to survive weird winter weather in Oklahoma.
  • Both Chanta and Dusty had health scares this past month, between the winter storms, and both of them turned out okay. I am so thankful for their health, so thankful for the thick blankets they wear during arctic blasts, so thankful for every happy year we enjoy with them. Bliss to see them walking and eating comfortably.
  • Surprise quality time with our friends Lynn and Jimmy Dale, time to laugh and dream and pray for all of our kids. Time to normalize parenting difficulties and heartaches, then laugh some more. Plus they let us try out their performance stilts! Bliss to enjoy easy, spontaneous quality time with friends.
  • Birthday gifts shipped to siblings in Los Angeles and Spain. Feeling better connected to them than ever before, despite the miles that separate us. Also daydreaming about trips to both places! Bliss to nurture adult friendship with my siblings.
  • It really makes me happy to have a loafing shed stuffed with giant round bales of hay. It’s as good a feeling, maybe better, as having the grocery shopping done a week before a major holiday. Bliss to be well prepared and secure.
  • Book discussion Zooms with friends in faraway places, personal prayerful video conference with two respected and beloved women, and a much needed Zoom with my sisters. I need these connections, and I am thankful for them. Bliss to connect with people in meaningful ways.
  • So many great books this winter! Since Thanksgiving I have already read more creative fiction than I did all of the previous year, and I am enjoying it. My spirit has needed it, this pleasure of reading books I want to read and reading books that stimulate my storytelling mind. Bliss to read slowly and deeply.
  • A few weeks ago I started shaping and amending soil for a brand new pizza garden! Oh my gosh, it’s so exciting. Bliss to wear thin gloves and let my body take over from memory, to feel my spade crunch through the sleeping earth, bliss to watch the blank circle emerge from the snow and mud. Bliss to work the compost, too.
  • We finally watched The Art of Racing in the Rain with Jess! Family pizza night. Good, relatable cry. Great laughs. Many cuddles with Klaus and Bean. Bliss in every way.
  • A couple of days in a row during a warm spell, we spent some quality time with our neighbors and new friends Rex and Cathy. They are so fun and easy to talk to, so rich in life experiences and so steeped in Love, being in their company is the best feeling. Bliss to have neighbors we love and enjoy so much.
  • I spent a few hours here and there with buckets of hot water, cleaning solutions, and scrub brushes, and I loved it. Bliss to get a head start on spring cleaning.
  • Another sweet and quiet Valentine’s Day, our traditional heart-shaped rib eye meal at home, and some very good romance, all of it like a warm and sexy quilt. Bliss.
  • Shortly after Valentine’s, we had one fiery marital disagreement that definitely hurt both of our feelings, one of those Clash of the Titans-style conflicts that thankfully doesn’t happen very often. But we both managed to express ourselves fully and honestly, then we reconciled in a few precious, unforgettable moments. Bliss to feel that authentic reconnection and deep peace.
  • We have a handful of small farm events coming up right around the corner, and planning them is a lot of fun. Bliss to anticipate gathering our people and to plan how to feed them and how we can set the stage for memory making.
  • One day this past week we fired up the yurt heater, ready with a pail of water for the sauna rocks, and luxuriated in a 150 degree room for probably too long, ha. Bliss to feel that deep, full body sweat in the dead of winter.
  • On the afternoon we were set to deliver a trailer stuffed with furniture, appliances, and home supplies to our Outreach family, our truck had some mechanical trouble. Dennis, Brandon, and Adam showed up, though, and saved the day. The guys are always there to help, and we don’t know what we would do without them. Bliss to have friends who always make a stressful situation more fun, and who always help.
  • Yesterday my sweet, smart husband sat with me for about two hours and answered dozens of layered questions for a brand new interview project. He indulged my curiosity, shared his heart, and made me fall in love with him all over again. Bliss to know your spouse of twenty years in ever deepening ways.

Choose joy. Inventory your pleasures and sensations. List your bliss. Allow and encourage light to overtake the darkness.

“Our daily noble pursuits make us human.
War awakens the preciousness of life
and reminds us to live each moment
to the glory of God.”
~Timothy Willard
XOXOXOXO

winter wake up call

For the past few years, I have noticed a moment late in winter when I worry whether I can do it all again. Somewhere past the holidays and even past the worst of the cold but too far from true warmth for even an optimist to declare an early spring, I just feel so deeply exhausted. Or, if not exhausted, then supremely comfortable. I work steadily and contentedly through the short daylight hours of January and February, mostly a very quiet farm life, and wonder whether I will have the energy for another series of busy, warm weather months.

After the final thaw and first true green up, my life will be filled with gardening and traveling, entertaining and big project wrangling, animals and farm expansion, and more. This time of year I am again deciding between a focused marathon training cycle and feeling good in a bikini. (These two goals are not necessarily compatible, which is one of life’s biggest surprises, ha!) This time of year my husband has legislative season layered on top of his normal Commish duties, which are already voluminous, so his energy drains away completely day after day, and this depletion becomes mine in many ways. I become protective of our available time and energy, forgetting that effort begets effort and energy begets energy.

None of this is a complaint! I choose every bit of it and more. This is a beautiful, complex life we have designed and which I love in great detail. And yet, gosh my mind and my body, my actual spirit, are fairly bankrupt by late winter. Sallow, like my skin.

So I worry a little, am I up to the task again? I have just recently convinced myself it was okay to read books in the late afternoon and cook dinner already showered for bed and definitely wearing pajamas. I really love our cozy living room with white twinkle lights and our stacks of fuzzy blankets, and these many consecutive nights of luxurious, gold star sleeping hours are so so so nice.

Very soon, the quiet, often starry black sky we inhale during that first cup of coffee will be noisy with roosters and already Technicolor, already gleaming with daybreak and bursting with wild potential. Soon, instead of letting me take my time waiting for first light, the farm will be antsy while I stretch awake, and every task outdoors will compete for first attention. The days will be crammed full, so full I never finish everything on The List, and I will be lucky to have showered by sunset, much less before cooking dinner, ha. I yawn against these thoughts and doubt my stamina.

I look for the snooze button on seasons.

But then…

Then it happens. We are gifted with a few extraordinarily warm, gentle afternoons, a few skies that pulse that familiar childhood shade of blue, and that intoxicating scent of freshness everywhere. Can you smell photosynthesis, or chlorophyll? Can you hear roots shimmy underground, coming back to life? The newness grows and expands gently, every day, even when a cold snap reminds me it’s still winter. It all accrues slowly along with the lengthening days, and, thankfully, my energy does too. Just a little bit at a time.

Around the days I see the first daffodil sprouts emerge from the sleepy garden beds, I begin to think that my daily routine has been too much about easy maintenance. I naturally crave traction, progress, and creation. Coasting feels stale. Resting begins to feel wasteful. My hands itch for gardening gloves instead of cozy ones, skin also longing for the silkiness of warm soil. My legs flex involuntarily when I think of crunching a spade into raw earth or forking over the compost heaps. My eyes are desperate for new colors, no longer content with all the sepia. I begin to obsessively check the horses for signs of shedding.

Gradually, my body responds to more tasks and more opportunities, especially outdoors. I feel excited again for the longer days and everything they bring along.

Nature and all her interlocking cycles inch forward without our permission and unheeding of our understanding. Ready or not, the seasons make progress. Thankfully, we are more than passengers; we are part of nature. Our energies are all intimately connected, and as the outside world moves through changes, so do we. Trust that.

If you are feeling too tired or very comfy and maybe reluctant to think of doing much more than you have been doing, take heart. Your inner resources can expand greatly as the days lengthen and the temperatures rise. The sun and the moon are your allies. You are part of nature, and this recent season of hibernation was good and necessary. What’s coming next is good and necessary, too.

I am ready. Are you?

“If you want to make your dreams come true,
the first thing you have to do is wake up.”
~J.M. Power
XOXOXO

Year One

Today’s weather is very much like the weather we had on this date last year, if maybe a touch colder. The sunshine is abundant and vibrating with energy. The wind is low, skies clear.

Today, Jessica and Alex celebrate their first wedding anniversary and, just as before, Love is winning.

Love wins…xoxoxo

After their first full year, a young couple could measure their marriage in bills paid and paychecks hard earned, in emergencies resolved, in how many friends they welcomed into their home to help them get back on their feet, in how many extended family crises they endured. They might look back over twelve months and remember strong grief for lost loved ones and fresh grief for hurting loved ones.

A young couple can cry a lot of tears in their first year, under the very best circumstances. In a global pandemic, with ancient, unrelenting storms still circling them, it can be an awful lot.

I think those and many more hardships are actually opportunities for growth and can be beautiful ways to measure your first year. But I vote for measuring and counting the outright joys, too.

A milestone year can be measured by how many road trips you’ve taken, how many spontaneous date nights your romance has sparked, how many fun parties you’ve thrown for your people! How many home cooked meals and nest feathering projects you’ve enjoyed, even the dozens of times you’ve lovingly taken your perfect pups to the park and to the groomer and (when necessary) to the vet. How many times did you buy delicious groceries together or rearrange the furniture, listen to music and sing and watch documentaries and discuss the world and politics? How many college classes and appointments and important meetings did you check off your list?

All the cozy bonfires you burned in your backyard firepit, they all count. All the many new traditions you cultivated, all on your own, for no one but yourselves, they definitely beef up the first year. Every time you lovingly participated in family events even when you weren’t quite up for it? Extra credit, babes. In a year, there are so many amors uttered, and plenty of movie nights and star gazing nights. They are all riches for your hearts.

Alone, these life details may feel small, but together they are good, solid building blocks for a happy, textured life. Three hundred and sixty five days worth of life well lived, of love exchanged and grown and realized.

A year is a nice long time to learn each other’s rhythms and habits, preferences and strengths, to begin to really galvanize and harmonize the cultures you have united. And these precious young people are just getting started.

Alex and Jessica, as you step across the calendar into January 17, 2022, into your second year as husband and wife, we wish you more time for each other, more opportunities to travel and more parties and fun. We wish you success at school and in business, fulfillment in every creative endeavor.

We also wish you all the strength and wisdom you will need for the inevitable challenges that are coming. You already know that the obstacle is the way; may you also begin to see that your dreams and visions are powerful forces. Craft your life, your marriage, own it, make it yours.

Wear the fur, eat the cake. Laugh as much as possible.

We love you so much.

Happy First Anniversary.

“Every love story is beautiful,
but ours is my favorite.”
XOXOXOXO

the thank you habit that helps me

For the past several days I have been employing an old standby habit, something that felt awkward at first but then got me through a crisis when my girls were toddlers, and these recent days it has felt luscious. I call it the Thank You Habit: While still lying in bed, in the dark, before speaking to anyone or even checking the time, before my feet hit the carpeted floor, I start silently saying thank you for as much as I can think of.

I let my mind float from person to person in my life and say thank you for them, then thank you for every modern convenience and insane material comfort we have, for the specific problems we overcame the day before and for the satisfying goals we met, thank you for the food I know is in the kitchen waiting to be prepared (and for the coffee that is probably brewing automatically at that moment), for the animals outside who trust me to meet their daily needs and for the supplies I have available to make my job so pleasant.

I say thank you for the hundreds of miracles we have witnessed over the years, as they come randomly to mind (these will gain momentum if you allow them to!), and thank you for the miracles still on their way. Thank you for my husband’s job which provides not just abundance in the practical sense but also abundance for the state of Oklahoma, for the people on his team, and for him as a person who was born to do this work and much more. Thank you that both of my girls are breathing and have hope, beauty and spiritual gifts to develop, despite their intense grief. I say thank you that both of my parents are alive and nearby, and that I enjoy true adult friendships with every single one of my siblings. These are blessings that only few of my friends have, and the older I get the more I see them as wild, amazing gifts.

thick night snow, moonglow, & a flashlight path…
I believe some moments of deliberate thanksgiving
can slice through the dark just like this

Before even standing up, I say thank you to God for the day ahead, for the problems we will inevitably face, because I know He has help available, and I know that in facing them we always emerge stronger. I tell Him how excited I am to see what kind of sunrise he has designed that day (I imagine Him staying up all night like an artist feverishly painting, waiting to display His new work), and thank you for what I will learn or enjoy on my run, and for what random surprises might happen. Thank you for the colorful fresh eggs our hens will lay. Thank you for the phone calls and texts with loved ones I might receive or make, thank you for the many people my sister will help that day and for the students at school and just as much as my mind will collect. Thank you for every hour coming, for every scrap of grace I will be afforded in the new day. Thank you for the near misses and close calls, for crises averted (there are many, you know).

This is just paving the way ahead with generous rivers of heartfelt gratitude, a way of attaching my day and my mind to the best possible outcomes.

This habit may sound goofy or trite, but I promise you it will feel smoother and more natural the more you practice it. After a couple of days, it tends to give me a glowy buoyancy, an inner sense of expectation that good things actually are coming. After this predawn ritual, I often catch myself throughout the rest of that day taking mental notes, “Oohh, tomorrow morning you can say thank you for that! That was cool.” This thought of course just sparks a midday thank you fest, which feels wonderful.

What this habit does not do is perfectly insulate me from dark thoughts or bad attitudes, for slipping emotionally from faith into fear. I am still susceptible to all of these errors and more; but the ongoing habit of saying thank you can even permeate this very real part of life: “Thank you for this frustrating challenge, thank you for this important relationship that may not come easily to me right now, but I know you are growing me here. Thank you for this deep pain, because it shows met how deeply I feel love, and it reminds me to be more loving. Thank you for the dreary landscape that makes me crave color, because I know you have built in this season of rest for a purpose, and I know this appetite for new life will help me enjoy springtime so much more. Thank you for this anger that awakens my protectiveness, and thank you for absorbing it cooling me down before I lashed out.”

If you try this one day and find your mind blocked or your words jammed up, or maybe you are in such abject pain that you cannot fathom a sincere thank you, I believe in my heart that is okay, too. This is not meant to be a saccharine exercise. I encourage you to try privately thinking only the words thank you a few times in a row, with no expectations or embellishments, and breathe deeply and say it again, while you are still in bed. Just rest for a moment longer before lunging desperately and painfully into your day. Whatever you face next, you have taken control of your energy for a moment. You have set the tone.

You know this drill, friends. We all know it in different expressions.

I just wanted to share my version as this brand new year takes hold, because the daily, hourly, private practice has helped me tremendously. My husband and I are facing some mammoth stressors lately, as I know you certainly are, and we are still enduring the same family heartaches as ever, still praying and watching for signs and still hoping for the next homecoming. Saying thank you ahead of time keeps me both tempered and lively. It keeps me happily tuned into good news, instead of staying vigilant, waiting for the next shoe to drop; and it helps me feel like the Universe is wired to my advantage, if that makes sense. That feeling that God is on your side, as silly as it may seem, works wonders. It magnetizes you for more goodness, and (at least for me) it sums up how it feels to trust God, to look Him straight in the eyes and willingly be held by His absolute goodness.

I heard a gorgeous interview that I will share in better ways soon, but for today, within the conversation the speaker shared a meditation:

“You are loved, you are held, you are guided, and you are never alone.”

Thank you for that assurance!