Lazy W Marie

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

near miss & a new friend

Yesterday midmorning I was driving north on Harrah road, toward the park for a run. I was in the right hand lane, slowing gradually nearer the school zone, far away from all other cars. Just as I passed the gas station on the west side of the road, a gray pickup with a camper shell exploded out of the intersection and raced right up alongside my car, definitely aimed for it. I hit my brakes and fishtailed just a little bit, and very much against my nature I also laid the palm of my hand on the horn, simultaneously. It was all instinct, not anger, though within seconds of narrowly avoiding a crash all that adrenaline did turn to anger. The pickup swerved just a breath away from hitting me, and the driver blended slowly into the right hand lane, just in front of me.

My hands were ten and two and shaking. I took several deep breaths and continued driving, even more slowly now, and eased a greater than necessary distance from the gray truck in front of me. I was nearing the park to stop for a run and saw that he, too, was headed there. He used his blinker, drove slowly, yielding to pedestrians the entire time, and parked in the shade.

I briefly considered driving somewhere else to run, I am so averse to confrontation. But I talked myself into staying because I had done nothing wrong. I just felt weird and conspicuous for having honked. I also didn’t know if the other driver felt he had done anything to warrant being honked at, and maybe he would think I almost hit him, you know, and try to fist fight me and I don’t know how to fight, not even in a video game.

My inner life in complicated.

Anyway I stayed.

I also pulled into the parking lot slowly, also yielded to pedestrians, and parked as far from his truck as I could. I did my weird little warm up, started my podcast about an unsolved murder, and started jogging. I was plenty nervous, and I don’t know exactly why. I just hate conflict so much.

The park has a smallish oval loop sidewalk for walking and jogging. I was going counterclockwise and the other driver was walking clockwise. We passed each other head on a few times before we both looked up and acknowledged each other. I pressed a thin smile at him and raised a hand for a low commitment wave, and he nodded softly and also smiled, but he looked sad. He was elderly but not frail, clean cut, polite, focused, and walking alone.

Around mile six I paused at my car for a drink of water, and I saw his truck pull up behind me, perpendicular to my bumper. I paused my stupid murder story and waited as he reluctantly put his truck in park and stepped out into the now blazing sun.

I took a deep breath and assured myself everything was fine. His posture was steady and gentlemanly. Polite. Cautious. He removed his ball cap and opened both hands and said, “I nearly hit you there, I pulled out and scared you, and I am so sorry.” His voice broke my stupid heart. Any defensiveness still in my body dissolved into either shame for honking at him or compassion or maybe amazement at his quiet nobility.

“No I am sorry, I never honk, I am so sorry I honked at you!” My chin started trembling. I was sweaty from running but also cold.

He shook his head and cut me off (haha) saying, “No, I didn’t mean to, but I did almost hit you.” He spoke more firmly this time. He went on to explain that the woman driving behind him had been speeding in that school zone, and she scared him. He felt she was about to slam into him from behind when he saw the opportunity or necessity to race out of the intersection, but all of it was so jarring, so sudden.

I tried a second time to apologize, and I extended both of my hands, not metaphorically. We shook hands normally at first then held hands, and I started weeping a tiny bit behind my scratched up cheap sunglasses. Had I not been sweaty I might have forced a totally inappropriate and unnecessary hug on this stranger (bad hugs are my hobby). It turns out, the verbal exchange was infinitely sweeter.

He said several more times and in a few different ways that he was sorry, and I said I was sorry. I thanked him for coming over to talk to me, told him I had been worried about it (the murder story barely kept my mind occupied), and told him his generosity made me feel so much better. I told him I was so glad that woman didn’t hit him. We agreed we all got lucky and wished each other a good rest of the day then shook hands again (I resisted the urge to invite him for Thanksgiving, because are we friends now?).

As he left the parking lot I started my murder story again, continued my run, and exploded into confusing tears. And the crying was only partially because I am in pre-ovulation. The tenderness and nobility he showed by approaching me and starting that awkward conversation was just so stunning. What an example he sets by this.

Since presumably we live at least somewhat near each other in a fairly cozy community, it is likely we will see each other again. I know now that if we do, it will be comfortable. But even if not, he made an impression on me and reminded me it’s ok to make the effort to keep neighborly bonds intact. We don’t have to go through the days ignoring strangers and neighbors, pretending we are islands or neglecting the effect we have on each other. He did not hit me. He was neither rude nor reckless. No harm was done aside from the momentary panic. He had no obligation whatsoever to ever mention it, but he did.

I swear my intention of honking my car horn was strictly to alert the oncoming vehicle to my presence there, not to express anger. But since I felt the anger immediately afterwards, all of it made me so nauseous. His boldness to resolve the conflict not only allowed me to let it go; it also inspired me to be bolder with neighborliness and more humble about my mistakes.

I am a nervous hugger, too, so there’s that problem. All of this also reminded me sometimes excessive handshakes are enough.

THE END.

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

springtime in october

Hello again, and happy almost Halloween, 2021! A lot has happened at the farm since last I wrote here, and I know a lot has happened in your world, too.

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We remark so often these days on the paradoxical grinding whirlwind of time, how it seems to both hover on a moment or a task and also spin wildly, too fast, all at once. How the days and weeks and months are accumulating and dissolving into memory like no year we have ever experienced before. It’s easy to guess why life feels this way right now, after the (forgive me) unprecedented chapters we have all survived. We taste life so fully now, all of us, and we like it. We cannot get enough of it. We are gluttons for living and living fully.

I am awake alone, writing this in an ultra quiet house at three in the morning, windows open with mild air seeping in, not even a trace breeze. I am enjoying the luxury of perfect coffee hot and strong in my grateful mouth and belly and my brain firing with new thoughts. The night sounds are muted, and my heart is grateful for a happy farm, for safe, well fed animals and for all these gardens that are not just thriving in autumn but refreshed, colorful, very much alive and ready for something miraculous to happen.

Everything happening is miraculous.

We are living a season of springtime in the midst of autumn. Not just this spectacular weather, but also a renewing of body, mind, and spirit. However quickly time seems to be passing, it is passing with great meaning and accomplishment. Time and energy seem to rush and flow through us like the cold Thompson River in Estes Park, powerful and cleansing, life giving. It feels incredible, this renewal. The fruits of our ongoing labor feel incredible, too. From one corner of life to another, we see goodness and give thanks for it constantly.

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I continue to swell with pride for my husband’s professional life; how his personal evolution is bringing everything he touches along for the exciting ride. Every week we build and improve the farm, sometimes making huge changes and sometimes just tightening things up, suiting them just to our liking and hopefully the animals’, too. Our multi-generational family time is warm and glittering, an ongoing gift that truly is a dream come true. Mom and Dad are so much fun. Jessica and Alex and their sweet pups are limitless sources of joy! We are surrounded by siblings and nieces and nephews and friends who might as well be family. Every week we gather to celebrate something big and wonderful, and I love it all.

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When Jocelyn rejoins us for the second time in this crazy life, she will have such a powerful nest to enjoy. We miss her like crazy, but in a happy, expectant way right now, not a grieving way. Like the way I felt just before she was born. This time, though, I’ll wait for it to happen naturally. She is worth every single minute of waiting. The party is going strong, showing no signs of slowing down, and she can join in anytime she is ready.

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I have lost track of all the answered prayers. I walk the farm and meditate intentionally every day, and I try to journal enough to keep up with it all, but the avalanche of goodness is more than I can keep up with. Sometimes it literally makes me giddy, delirious with gratitude. I hope that the condition of my heart and the effort to acknowledge it here an there is enough of a thank you. Thank You.

More soon, but before I signoff, a great journal prompt:

“How much overlap is there between
what you say is important to you
and how you spent your attention
over the last month?”
~James Clear (author of Atomic Habits)
XOXOXO

friday 5 at the farm, life lately

1. Doing: We just wrapped up the 2021 Oklahoma County Master Gardeners’ Tour! After receiving the invitation earlier this summer, Handsome and I have spent lots of time and energy preparing for a bus full of talented gardening friends to visit the Lazy W. I have really been missing the community, and it was an honor to be considered, so we dove in and had a blast!

Of course in true Oklahoma fashion, our long standing drought busted wide open the very morning of the tour, with a cold front and all day thunderstorms. Ha! But Jess and Alex joined us to help with guests, and we made some very happy memories despite being soaked. Also in gardening and activities news, I spent a day last week with my friend Mer. We drove to Stillwater to see her stepdaughter Ash as well as tour the OSU campus botanic gardens and the Bustani grounds. The gardens were deeply inspirational, and time with a dear friend refreshed my soul. In between these two events, gardening and farm cleanup has been the name of the game. With heavy rain predicted again tonight, I won’t be watering for a while, and all the weeding and mulching is caught up, so everything gets a little rest, including me.

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2. Reading: I have started listening to audio books, which is a big departure for me. I have always been kind of a snob against them and will gladly explain why if you care. My first foray was a pitiful necessity: The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoevsky is a current group project with a deadline. I was muddling and suffering through the five-million-page book version and realized I would not finish it in time to participate in the remote book club discussion, and I have really wanted to participate with this particular group for a while, so I broke down and paid for an Audible subscription. Friends, it was a lifesaver worth every penny of the fourteen dollar fee. The talented narrator helped me differentiate the dozens of (IMHO) underdeveloped characters with complicated Russian names (I was not forming crisp images as I read). Plus, being so busy with tour prep these recent weeks, I had a hard time sitting still to read. at all Audio helped me power through a classic, and I am glad for it. Since finishing The Idiot, I decided to keep up the audio momentum during housework and cooking hours. Yesterday I started listening to Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis. Nice palate cleanser, you know? As for actual reading, my whole body and soul are still vibrating from The Well Gardened Mind by Dr. Sue Stuart-Smith. I’ll have a full review for you soon. More exciting than my review, though, is that this weekend we are hosting an in person discussion brunch at the farm! Several friends read it along with me, and we are lucky enough to have snagged the author for a Zoom interview!! I cannot wait to meet her online, ask her some questions, and lavish her with affection for her gorgeous piece of work. And yes I will share more of that experience here, next week.

3. Eating: I personally cannot get enough eggs, Greek yogurt, and walnuts lately. Sounds pious, but I don’t mean it that way. These cravings have been as real and insatiable as tortilla chips and guacamole or dark chocolate and almonds. This week we have enjoyed a couple of different versions of homemade enchiladas and seared jalapenos, which was fun with friends here for dinner, plus one new sugar cookie recipe, which I baked strictly to fragrance the house on our first rainy day. Sadly, since Handsome is requesting fewer sweet treats these days, I have no idea what to do with all of my autumn baking energy. It is soon going to be an actual problem. Friends and neighbors should begin expecting anonymous deliveries of apple cider donut bread, pumpkin muffins, brookies, and apple-cinnamon rolls.

4. People News: My never-stop-working husband just passed his fifteen year mark at the Commish! This feels like such a pretend milestone, as if the real one is much more substantial, because each of those fifteen years has been so packed with drama, uphill battles, stunning accomplishments, and paradigm-shifting life changes, both for us and for his professional community. So much history under his belt, and all while our own story rages on in the periphery. We were practically newlyweds when he started and have built the farm during those years! Overall, what a beautiful whirlwind of endurance and growth. And a great portion of it has contributed to the enrichment of our marriage, for which I am so thankful.

5. Animal News: Little Lady Marigold is still sweetly aggressive and absolutely stuck on her morning routine. She also continues to be people shy. Did she even peep around the corner during the tour? No, but Meh made lots of new friends that day. We overheard some ladies pitying him for being so wet, and he ate it right up. The two flocks are still cooped up until my gardens heal a bit more from their recent reign of free-range terror. Klaus misses his bird friends, so I let him in the big pen every day to play. We are, not surprisingly, collecting a glut of eggs again.

Okay, more stories and updates soon! I would love to know what’s happening in your world. Are you sinking into autumn where you live? Are you baking or decorating or gardening accordingly? Anyone running a fall marathon? I’m not, but I am slowly ramping up mileage and feeling better than ever.

Thanks for checking in, over and out!

“For it is the body, the feeling, the instincts,
which connect us with the soil…”
~Carl Jung
XOXOXO

free range friday

Our free range experiment is going well overall. Not a single chicken has been hawk-caught or otherwise injured during their daytime freedom romps, and Klaus is acclimating well to his newly crowded playground. In fact, he loves the two flocks being out, and when he isn’t protecting them he seems to be boasting his superior running and fetching skills.

We wondered whether any of the birds would know exactly how and when to retreat to the safety of the coop at bedtime, but our concerns were soon alleviated. Despite having only ever lived in either incubators or grow troughs or enclosed coops, every hen and every rooster (around thirty, total) has scooted peacefully to their correct shelters every evening, just before sunset. Knock on wood, we have done zero chicken chasing in the dark. Have you ever chased loose birds with flashlights, with your spouse, wearing pajamas, very tired, avoiding stickers, trying not to get in a fight and also getting sweaty before bed, but then definitely getting in a stupid fight but the chickens still don’t appreciate your efforts? Fun stuff. We are so thankful that has not been the case this year.

Our lone gander, Johnny Cash, is sometimes the wild card. He still rejects our offer of pond life, choosing instead to keep company with, and loosely referee, his adopted family. Occasionally at bedtime he is alone, still nested comfortably in the lawn. He honestly appears to be watching the sunset, though, and as we approach, he always waddles sweetly to bed. We say goodnight and latch the door behind him.

As I write this from the upper deck, the sun is basting me aggressively in my own sweat. Klaus is sitting on the top step of the pool ladder, cooling his hot feet and belly while Handsome sweeps the chlorinated water. To my left, some poultry chaos is brewing in the fire pit. One rooster and two hens have taken up residence in a small, empty cardboard box and are attempting a late afternoon ménage-a-trois. It is a novel setting, I will give them that. But they are making too much noise now, and BW has left the pool and walked over to evict them.

Now someone else is laying an egg in the shade garden, a particularly vocal event, and all the disruption is bouncing from one small group to another, layer upon layer of growing excitement. Exult! Celebration! Announcement! This lasts for several minutes and is so loud we cannot have a conversation. But we love it.

Now the south yard is mostly quiet. We gradually hear a few long, exaggerated moans plus a few stray, one-syllable clucks in the distance. Just here and there. Someone is hot and sleepy, and someone else has found a wealth of insects or worms and is calling everyone to the feast.

my newly arranged stone walkway is a joke to them

Free range ducks means that I can move their little plastic wading pool around the various gardens as often as I want, emptying it easily at the base of any thirsty shrub or in any flower bed as needed. I am not pouring the duck water on food, just to make sure I use compost that is as well rotted as possible; but this little nutrient-rich deep watering feels like a good choice for ornamentals. And the ducks love having fresh, shaded water every single day. It is so fun to watch them discover it anew every day. Splish-splash. Klaus stands and watches them too, smiling. Salivating?

Half an hour later, the same feathered trio attempted another cardboard box rendezvous, and this time Klaus took charge. He marched up to the edge of the fire pit and used his considerable snoot to tip over the box, emptying the lovers onto the smooth rock surround. More chaos. Many loud objections. A satisfied Shepp.

A few people have asked me recently whether the chickens do much damage to my gardens. The answer is yes, they certainly do some leaf shredding and crater digging for dust baths, but not enough to bother me. I harvest way more food than they ever eat. And they provide far more help to the gardens than harm. So the balance is in check for now. They eat grasshoppers and who knows what else. They uproot crabgrass for me and scratch the earth where it is impacted, leaving scant amounts of diggable fertilizer as they go. Symbiosis.

And gosh dang they are so fun and beautiful! I might think long and hard about exposing my more delicate early spring gardens to their treachery, but that decision is for next March. For now, this well established Eden in late summer can comfortably host these happy flocks.

they are not shy lol

The only new problem worth solving seems to be the sudden and conspicuous absence of fresh eggs. We get only three or four per day lately, compared to twenty or twenty-five normally, and most of the ones we do bring to the house have been found in random, temporary nests around the farm. Handsome tends to find a clutch near the base of the pool pump, which is enclosed by wooden walls. Today I found eggs inside a potted plant.

Two roosters are that empty box now. They are obsessed!

The End.