Lazy W Marie

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

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friday 5 at the farm: missed photos

First, here are two snapshots of Scarletta Jones providing composting services as I cleaned out a space for planting green beans:

((scarletta jones very interested in the fresh weeds I was pulling
from the vegetable garden May 2024))
((she mooed gently and followed me around the perimeter))

And here are at least five photos I missed recently because I didn’t have my phone in my pocket:

ONE: Rhett, standing to Scarlett’s immediate left, their shoulders touching, was licking her face over and over again like she was a popsicle. His eyes were wide open, and hers were closed, a contented expression. Their tails swished almost in unison, dismissing flies. I take lots of snapshots of them most days, but this is one I really regret not capturing.

TWO: Chanta driving all his weight onto his front legs in order to kick Dusty, vertical bucking bronco style, because he felt my ten minute tardiness in feeding them breakfast was for sure Dusty’s fault. Chanta’s coat is almost shiny now, very little winter fur remianing, and his belly is filled in luxuriantly. His leg muscles rippled when he moved to kick. His beachy mane flew wildly. I celebrate every day he shows such youthful vitality and always wish I had taken a photo of moments like this.

THREE: One of the Ex-Pat roosters from our sweet neighbors’ house next door has taken up residence with one of our bantam hens, who almost daily escapes the coop to be with him. There are at least three free range Ex-Pats, but this particular one is in love with this hen, and she clearly returns his affection. One morning recently she had gotten herself enclosed in a live trap (the kind you put out for raccoons, etc.), but I hadn’t noticed yet. I was working in the Circle Garden, and he traipsed up to me and tilted his head, clucked so politiely, with a quesiton mark inflection at the end. “Excuse me, Ma’am?” I talked to him for a minute then followed when he scurried across the yard and around an oak tree to the metal cage where his betrothed was waiting. I released her, reprimanded her gently, then watched them proceed to eat breakfast together. The food was nearby; he could have eaten without her but didn’t. I would love to have captured the look on his face when he approached me for help. And I would love to have a photo of them scratching up their shared meal, crisis averted.

FOUR: The early mornings have been foggy and rainy and moody, with smeared navy and grey skies and dramatic cloud patterns. I have taken zero photos of all the beautiful gloom, but I wish I had taken hundreds. Twice this week I did breakfast chores beneath a canopy of shimmering hidden lightning, and it was gorgeous. There will soon be a day when we are parched dry to the bones and crave this heaviness and thick moisture. I love it all but wish I had taken photos of the sky this week.

FIVE: I had a waking dream of Jocelyn again, and while that is not something you can take a physical photo of, I still wish I had it to see with my eyes over and over again. She will be twenty nine at the end of this summer, and despite the circumstances I feel intensely close to her. I feel her in my heart and against my skin, and in this waking dream I heard her voice. It is lower now, more womanly. Her girlish limbs are different. Stronger, more graceful. Her eyes have more maturity and experiece behind them, but they still sparkle, are still deep brown and glossy with ideas and grief and depth. I wonder if she has visions or waking dreams of me, too. If she has a sense for what has changed in her absence. If she knows how much she is missed but also how much she is trusted and loved and upheld in thought and prayer and conversaton. She felt preternaturally close to me during this vision, and I am so thanful for that gift.

“Keep joy in the front seat.”
~Courtney Dauwalter
XOXOXO

team free turkey & my near miss with a hidden camera tv show

I regret to inform you, dear reader, that this is a true story.

On a chilly morning about a week before extended family was due in town for Thanksgiving, I had quite a memorable visit to Midwest City. First I ran seven easy miles at Regional Park. Then I stopped at Winco for the final push of groceries for our massive feast. This was a day I had been eagerly anticipating: The well organized purchase of all the loveliest and most perishable Thanksgiving Day supplies, including of course the centerpiece turkeys, plural because we planned to feed at least twenty four people.

Dressed in running tights and a now damp sweatshirt, a black wool coat covered with blonde and grey horse hair, and muddy running shoes, I wheeled my grocery cart all through the raw kale and firm pears, the walnuts and the butter, the heavy cream and lemons and bags of stale bread. I zipped happily through my menu and shopping list then ventured over to the frozen meats. There, I was thrilled to see a sign boasting, “Free turkey with $125 purchase!” I can spend that much money just driving into the parking lot of any grocery store, so I did not bother tallying up my treasure. I just selected two frozen turkeys, grabbed a few more needed items, and made my way to the registers.

I slid easily into an empty space attended by a cashier who was new to me. We exchanged pleasantries, and I asked her if either of my turkeys could be included in the $125 minimum for a free turkey. She thought so, sure, but would happily confirm. She speed walked over to her manager, they conferred for several minutes, and she glided back to me beaming. “Yes! No problem!”

She was the picture of efficiency, relaying my Thanksgiving groceries from one hand to the next, scanning prices, her fingers flying to input produce codes, making effervescent small talk with me as she worked. Yes, very excited for Thanksgiving, oh my gosh yes, the weather forecast is beautiful so far! Are you hosting? yes, yes, it’s my favorite thing. And wow this is the perfect time of day to shop. No one is here! So nice.

I looked around, just enjoying the spaciousness of the store, admiring the extremely well stocked shelves and symmetrical displays, wondering how many people it takes to keep so many chrome and glass surface that shiny.

When she reached the end of my massive order, she cocked her brunette curls to one side and kind of clucked. The total was only $121 and some change. I was surprised because, as I mentioned, it is normally so easy to spend that minimum and then some. No one was waiting behind me. So she encouraged me to grab another item or two to reach the required $125 for, in case you have forgotten, the free turkey.

I abandoned my groceries and did that stupid ball-of-your-feet jog people do when they are trying to look like they are running cooperatively across a street in front of a yielding vehicle, searching without my list for any items I might have neglected. Canned soda, yes. Okay a couple of packages of brown-and-serve dinner rolls, too. That should do it.

I rounded an aisle that becomes a straightaway to Efficient Brunette Curls, and my heart sank. In those few moments since I had polite-jogged away, three groups of shoppers had accumulated behind my now unattended cart. I saw a well dressed woman about my age driving a cart with a similarly generous arsenal of ingredients; in front of her was an older black woman, dressed in a loose gown and wearing a scarf around her recently set hair, leaning against a cart that held only cranberry juice, a bag of oranges, and a few boxed pantry items; and in front of her was a young couple. They were both festooned with tattoos and wearing cropped concert tees, black combat boots, and vividly colored hair. I squirmed past each shopper, whispered my awkward apologies, and presented those spontaneous purchases for adding to the goal.

This is where the story really begins.

Efficient Brunette Curls cheerfully rang up my new items, took a pleasantly deep breath because this transaction was almost done, and then cocked her head again, clucking again. The total was somehow lower than before.

I am no scientist, but it sure seems like adding more items to a total should increase that total. Are we all in agreement on this?

Something deep inside me set off awareness in every physical sense. The shiny surfaces were shinier. The space between the aisles became oceanic. Neat towers of boxed products swayed like unstable skyscrapers, at risk now of toppling. The music playing in the distant speakers was like a booming, scratchy concert. I could smell the refrigerant in nearby coolers.

I glanced briefly over my left shoulder, mouthing inaudible apologies to the four people probably waiting for me to get on with my stupid life. Everyone shook their heads sweetly and dismissed the niceness, it’s fine it’s fine, no worries.

Efficient Brown Curls had already taken the matter into her own perfectly manicured hands, clicking and clacking her heart out until she felt she had reached an impasse. “I don’t get it.”

“It should be enough,” I said, never able to resist stating the obvious.

“It should be enough, yes.” An ally.

The woman last in line, the one with the ample grocery haul like mine, stage-whispered through the small crowd, “Are you trying to get the free turkey? I am too! What’s wrong?”

Okay, maybe this is actually where the story begins.

Curls explained to her surprisingly rapt audience the mystery of the diminishing grocery total, and I made sure to interrupt her a lot by saying how sorry I was to delay them all, and also trying to justify my immense collection of kale and oranges and walnuts and butter and, you all might have noticed, two turkeys! Because it is our parents’ fiftieth anniversary year, and the whole family will be in Oklahoma for Thanksgiving, and we need it to be really perfect. My body flooded with whatever hormone keeps you from being able to shut up but makes you want to run away as fast as possible.

But I had $118 worth of reasons for staying put. Which meant I needed to spend another $7 or $8 to get a free turkey.

Here, I should point out that the turkey I was hoping to get for free was only about $14. My husband is in charge of our finances overall, just to rest you assured.

Okay. Efficient Brunette Curls tapped a few more keys on her Magical Grocery Machine and marched with purpose away to the manager’s bench. She approached. “Your honor, I object,” is probably how she started. They wagged their heads at each other a few times, exchanging points of view beyond our hearing. Curls, now our fearless leader, returned to us.

“You just have to get to $125. It should work.” We had made no meaningful headway.

I was completely unwilling to do that stupid polite jog again, especially in front of people, especially in front of people who had been waiting for me already, so I panicked. And friends, I mean, I panicked.

I let my head pivot freely on my neck a few times then spotted the bottle of 100% real cranberry juice in the older woman’s cart. It was not the juice cocktail; it was the real stuff. Pure cranberry. My brain saw it as a gold mine and said to my body, “That’s it! That’s the solution. Buy her juice, it will fix everything!” So I did, and she smiled and said, “Thank you Jesus!”

What happened next really truly makes no sense.

The grand total did not go up, not ever by one cent. It actually went down.

I added a not cheap grocery item to the order, and the total diminished again.

By now, the young couple, the juice loving lady with the recently set hair, and the Thanksgiving hostess in back were all four gathered close, drawn together as if by an invisible thread, the common thread of either concern or wonderment. What is happening? We all needed to know.

If moments ago my body wanted to flee, then now it now wanted disappear entirely. The whole scene felt like a hidden camera television experiment. A What Would You Do kind of situation. As Curls worked furiously on her Magical Grocery Machine, my gaze expanded again to the store overall. Has it always been so clean? Is it normal this well stocked and tidy? And what about my overly accommodating neighbors… Each of them seemed suddenly like caricatures of themselves, like they were cast by a director to play very distinct parts, unlikely neighbors in a supposedly spontaneous public moment. I knew it.

Everyone was crowded now around the keypad where I would have donated blood right then and there just to pay and be gone.

The young couple, the two women, and me in my horse hair covered coat and sweaty running clothes.

Curls half-demanded that her manager come help. I gulped.

The manager arrived wearing an annoyed expression and, I kid you not, a nametag: Karen.

Karen did a Mike Tyson-punch at three or four buttons on the store side of the keypad and took one of my turkeys in hand. She asked me is this is the one I wanted for free or NOT. My eyes could not have have blinked shut even with great effort. Yes ma’am, please. OK THEN and she bowled that frozen bird all the way down the otherwise vacant conveyor belt so that it crashed into the metal end. The girl behind me gasped. Karen said nothing and stomped away.

The grocery total went down even more. I felt dizzy.

“It’s okay! I will just buy the turkey, it’s not worth it. Please let me pay.”

“Absolutely not. This makes no sense.” The world’s most patient and meticulous cashier suggested we undo the entire order and ring it up all over again. An audit, if you will. “There has to be a reason,” she insisted. And she seemed unfazed by her manager’s small tantrum.

The gasping tattoo girl behind me had since noticed some fine print in a small sticker near the keypad: “This offer does not include alcohol, tobacco, lottery tickets, or milk.”

Ok, milk! Yes, I had purchased half a gallon of whole milk because my little brother wanted a certain kind of mashed potatoes. Okay, that is a few bucks. What should we do? My body asked my brain.

Well, my brain suggested that we panic in new and better ways.

I looked at the items Gasping Tattoo Girl held in her artful arms: A plastic baggie of green onions, something in a box, and an enormous pumpkin pie from the bakery.

BINGO! My brain said this in Cousin Eddie’s voice. Obviously.

I literally took the pumpkin pie from her hands (without verbally asking permission, just with my eyes, because, that is just how this new and better version of panic manifested) and thrust it at Fearless Leader: “TRY THIS!”

Gasping Tattoo Girl hissed a happy, affirmative yyeesssss and threw her hand up in a heavy metal wagging gesture I am pretty sure was invented by Ozzy Osborne.

Now. Everybody guess what happened next.

The total went down again.

I really was beginning to consciously believe that a team of cameras was positioned in hidden spots all around us. This was too uncanny, too weird, too uncomfortable and hilarious. But I could not laugh yet; in fact I was on the verge of crying.

“No no no, don’t worry honey,” the Cranberry Juice Lady said in a warm, oracle kind of Oklahoma accent.

Hostess Lady agreed, “I need to see what happens, I need my free turkey too!” She even tried to rally a group cheer, pumping her slender LL Bean arms in the air and chanting all alone, “TREAM FREE TURKEY!” I tried to join her in this cheer but wow that felt self congratulatory, so it fizzled almost immediately. I felt bad for her, but she was laughing.

“Yeah no worries,” Ozzy Fans both said, “Let’s see how this plays out.” She petted her now paid for holiday dessert like it was a kitten.

Everyone leaned in towards the keypad, all of us aimed at it with such intensity.

The intimacy of space and purpose with these unlikely strangers really took my breath away.

We continued to chat. At some point, our group research stumbled onto the possibility that each customer was perhaps limited to one turkey. Like maybe the system refused to ring up both of them due a limited supply. Curls was so intent of getting me my turkeys as promised that she jokingly said, “I should just let you have it, how will the system know?” I begged her not to do that, please don’t get in trouble, and I glanced fearfully at Your honor’s bench in case she could somehow intuit our long distance conversation.

What finally happened is pretty anticlimactic. By removing one turkey from the order, the subtotal was enough to get one turkey for free. Then I just paid for the second turkey. Plus the half gallon of real cranberry juice and a huge pumpkin pie, which each went to their respective homes. In all the chaos, I did resist the urge to tell the young Ozzy Girl that it would have been much cheaper to bake the pie from scratch, but after that bizarre display, I doubt she would listen to any home-ec advice from me.

I paid for the big order. I paid for the a la carte turkey. I said my goodbyes and thank yous and wished my five new friends a very wonderful Thanksgiving. Then I hightailed it past Your Honor Karen and out of the too clean store before the hidden camera crew could catch me and ask for a signed release. I kind of regretted not waiting to see if LL Bean got her free turkey. She was rooting for me so hard.

By the time I reached my car to unload these precious feast supplies, my heart was racing and my eyes still had not really closed. I texted my husband, “You are not going to believe what just happened,” and I drove back to the farm.

The End.

early october senses inventory

See: Sunlight streaming in and bouncing cheerfully off of several small disco balls, now their fuzzy reflections wiggling around the room as if they are living creatures. Halloween decorations in front of me on the dining room table and above me, suspended from the light fixture, mixed with honeysuckle twigs. I have the light bulbs in here set to purple just for fun, and even in the bright afternoon sun this is causing a bowl of apples to appear black. Oh wait, that is a plastic rat. The apples are fine. Two stacks of notebooks and garden references. My cell phone which needs to be charged.

Hear: Roosters crowing. Klaus alternately snoring deeply then breathing fast and shallow, catching his breath after a fun romp around the back field. Clack-tap-clack-tap of my keyboard. Refrigerator humming.

Touch: My bare feet on the area rug, toes searching tentatively for stickers that are surely hiding in the deep pile. Baggy denim overalls, too baggy, constantly falling off of my shoulders. My husband’s Top Gun t shirt beneath those, also too baggy but perfect. Some dried sweat around my hairline, proof of a morning well spent. Comfortable tailbone allowing me to sit like a normal person, something definitely worth celebrating.

Taste: Salty tortilla chips, a remnant of Dijon mustard on the corner of my mouth, and that bittersweet flavor of off-brand diet cola. A high quality lunch.

Smell: Faint smell of fabric softener mixed with potting soil. That midseason perfume of sunshine cooking dust on the open air windowsill. And sweet red apples. Red, not black.

Think: What is the weather today in Colorado? Does she have time to hike this week? Are the aspens bright yellow yet? Will we get to host Thanksgiving at the farm this year, and if so, can I persuade any of our guests to spend the night with us that weekend? Thinking about the power of words, both written and spoken. Speech and spells and blessings and curses. Not because it should be that way, but because it is. Operating Secrets of the Universe, you know, not someone’s mandates. There’s a difference. Thinking of turning fifty next Spring and how, if we keep to our pattern of leaving the farm once every four years, then I have at most 8 trips left. Best case scenario, what are the top eight places I would like to visit?

Feel: More in control of the emotional tidal waves lately. If not in control of what causes them, then at least more like I am able to surf them more gracefully, more safely. Certainly more in control of my perspective and responses. Feeling disturbed by recent events and still reeling a bit from dreams about beheadings, but not overwhelmed. Feeling thankful for an incredible summer season and excited for our transition to fall and winter. Feeling amazed by the detail with which God sometimes answers prayer. The specificity and timeliness. All the many ways He efforts to demonstrate his love for me, for our family, for everyone. Really amazing.

((we keep it classy like san diego))

How are your senses informing your world today?
XOXOXO

january t.g.i.f.

Hello, and happy Friday! Here’s a Brene Brown-style “TGIF” as we wrap up a short work week. I am feeling so good and hope you are, too. If not, I hope you know how to change that, no matter your circumstances. Taking the reigns on our emotions is a superpower. It’s how we change our actual, three-dimensional worlds.

((January reds laying the groundwork for Valentine’s Day soon))
((visiting mallards fluttering away from the pond))
((little Miss Hissy fit still not comfy with Klaus))

TRUSTING: I am trusting that Jocelyn is safe and healthy, as happy as a young woman can be, and that deep down she knows she is loved and treasured beyond words. I am trusting God’s timing and healing and the joyful power of all those reunions in recent years. We are trusting that Marigold passed as peacefully as she appeared to and that she felt our intense love. We are trusting that rainfall will replenish Oklahoma, that hay prices will soon adjust, and that our sweet old horses will stay healthy for many more years. I am also trusting in the timing of some personal goals (two book proposals and a few really unique community events here at the farm!).

GRATEFUL: Gratitude is the name of the game lately, ha! I am so grateful for a safe, comfortable, happy home, for this big, glorious nest we cultivate together, for our marriage, for all the daily Love between us and around us. We are immersed in Love that gets expressed in so many beautiful ways. I am thankful for constant, fun and meaningful communication with Jess and Alex, for quality time with family, for easy times with friends and neighbors and their precious dogs (Klaus’ best friends), when we all laugh so hard and just relax and make memories. We are thankful that the hens are laying big, colorful eggs again and that some long fought battles at the Commish are slowly yielding real success. I feel the beginning of relief coming, and it’s a thrill. Another cool thing for which I am grateful is that my husband has rekindled his Car Guy instincts and is waist deep in a new renovation project! He always seems happier with a big mechanical toy at his disposal, and his happiness makes me happy.

INSPIRED: Lately I have gulped in the beauty of art forms I am unlikely to ever even attempt myself, much less master, but they have nonetheless inspired me. Dancers, musicians, and painters are just amazing. They practice their elaborate crafts, create brand new works, share generously, and make the world infinitely more beautiful and interesting! Many of our actual friends are spending their lives as artists, and I just feel so lucky to absorb it all. It wells up inside me and inspires me to do more of my own creative work. I am also inspired, as all gardeners are in January, by the myriad possibilities of a brand new growing season. Recently I attended a master gardeners’ meeting where Julia, the Extension Director, shared a slideshow of her trip through England, and of course those gardens gave me so many ideas. Boundless beauty, such inventive themes. Also? I am thinking specifically of Van Gogh and his combination of gardens with painting. I think we need another painting day here at the Lazy W gardens. It’s been too long. We are also hosting a garden tea party in early spring. Does anyone want to come dance? We can make it a true bohemian day.

FAITH: We are still not attending church services, but My private faith practice is pretty nourishing. I love to start the day early with a short devotional, the related Bible passages, and usually journaling. Then I do walking meditations during breakfast chores. These ebb and flow with life and that day’s prayer requests. I have learned to stay in a posture of saying thank you all day long, of constantly naming blessings as they cross my mind, and of thanking God in advance for blessings showered on my people, for solutions to problems we are facing, for surprise miracles not yet seen. This practice not only feels wonderful; it yields stunning results. I strongly encourage you to sample it in your own life. Just thank God in advance for His help, internalize the sensation of your prayer being answered, and watch what happens. So simple. Also along the lines of practicing faith, I have become more protective over my own spirit lately, guarding more than ever the content of my information diet. I just don’t have the stomach for serial killer or murder mystery stories right now, nor really anything too tragically sad. The ideas and images in which I allow my heart to marinate quickly take shape in my days, in my attitude, in how I see the world, and really I just want more of the good, beautiful stuff. To that end, my podcast subscriptions, books, and video choices are heavily weighted to happiness studies and health, spiritualty, gardening, uplifting stories, you name it. I cannot remember that last time I finished even a short episode of a crime documentary, and that’s fine by me.

Okay, your turn! In what ideas or in whom are you trusting? For what are you grateful? What’s been inspiring you lately? And how are you practicing your personal faith? I would love to hear.

Happy Friday, friends,
and have the most luscious weekend.
XOXOXOXO

early october moments (tgif)

Does anyone remember Brene Brown’s old school TGIF posts? Her break down (Trusting, Grateful, Inspiration, Faith) is a lovely way to punctuate the work week and step mindfully into a recharging weekend. I am sharing my version today, and if you have a moment, I hope you’ll share a bit of yours, too.

What are you Trusting? This week I am trusting that God is working behind the scenes on our biggest prayer requests, all the important things we cannot change on our own. I am trusting Him to provide for and protect Jocelyn above and beyond what she can do for herself, to remove destructive forces from the Commission, to heal a few precious loved ones who are sick and hurting, and to replenish our water supply after such a long, hot drought.

For what are you Grateful? I am immensely grateful for our beautiful home, for my ever ripening marriage, for our close knit extended family and mosaic masterpiece of friends. I am so thankful for this recent garden season and for the chance to guide Jessica through her own first big garden season. I am thankful for the shift in weather, the promise of time to read and nest and write more soon. I am grateful for the flowers still blooming like crazy.

((an easy walk around the farm yielded me this surprise bouquet, and I love it))

What is Inspiring You? Recently I have been soaking up stories about gardening on a shoestring and all the many things we can do to beautify our outdoor spaces with just work and creativity, rather than always spending lots of money. Moving and dividing plants, massaging compost, and generally caring for the garden inspires me. I am inspired by the sumac branches that boast green, red, orange, and yellow, all at once. How they are in no hurry to finish the transformation. They can hold an audience with ease. I am inspired by a combination of music by Leon Bridges and Taylor Swift then the scents of rain and pumpkin bread. I am wildly inspired by my husband and the way he works and by Jessica and the way she squeezes every available minute of her day to be outdoors. I am also inspired and awakened by a podcast I heard this week about time management. It asks, what are the things for which you feel you do not have enough time? My singular and immediate response was writing. So I have decided to get back to writing daily.

How are you practicing your Faith? I have been making an effort to speak my thanks aloud as often as possible, all throughout the day. Klaus is used to it, haha, as are the horses and chickens. I have also been reading my devotional and Bible passages early in the morning, while my mind is sill warm and pliable from sleep, and writing down all the joys and answered prayers from the previous day. These small practices keep me tethered and encouraged. I am still moving those gratitude and cocreation muscles by giving thanks ahead of the miracles. This is sometimes easy and sometimes hard, which is ok. It works.

Happy Friday, friends.
Thank you for stopping here.
I hope you are inspired
to mark the goodness in your life
and really enjoy it.
XOXOXOXO