Lazy W Marie

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

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we better just keep going

There is a sensation that reads somehow as both expansive and contractive. I am sure you know it, too. It’s the breathing in and breathing out of Life Itslef, the simple, sacred rhythm of just being.

We feel the coexistence of both joy and sorrow. We grow big and strong but make terrible mistakes. We have brand new, beautiful experiences that stretch us then some that humble us. We add to, subtract from, and constantly edit and polish ourselves and our lives so that, no matter how many patterns and routines we follow, no matter how many seasons we witness, nothing is ever exactly the same, not quite.

And it feels like it is happening all at once.

And all of this is exactly as it should be.

We are given this rich, lush, fascinating world meant to be explored and loved. We are given all these many, varied people, near and far, meant to be known and loved deeply. We are given animals and gardens to care for, work worth doing, communities worth building, experiemnts worth trying, and goals worth chasing, in order to… Well, I won’t pretend to know the exact purposes, but I do know without a doubt that it’s all an extravagant gift.

I am telling you this because it hit me right when I needed it most. I have been feeling like too many things in my life have been starved of the attention and energy they need, yet I am all the way depleted. Not much extra to give, you know? When I pulled back to see what’s been happening, I was so happy to remember that I just set different goals for a while. The chaos I have been feeling is the natural result of a life densely packed wth all the best things, and it’s okay. I know that it’s within my power to reorder things when the time comes.

With this deep breath of contenment in my body, I see no other way forward except to just keep going. Continue on in the mild chaos. Continue doing the work we find important and satisfying. Nurture the friendships we treausre. Chase the goals that make our mouths water, respecting the process regardless of the outcome. Cultivate the best things we can find in community. Make sure we are doing everything we can to construct a history we are proud and happy to reflect on later.

It will feel off balance plenty. It will feel weird often. But it will also feel victorious and hilarious and awe-inspiring! I’ll take it, all of it, thankyouverymuch, and all of it at once if the Universe continues to see fit to send it that way.

Keep on going, friends! We all need the particular flavors of chaos, disruption, and beauty you are creating.

“Don’t be fooled by the calendar; you only have as many days as you make use of.”
~Charles Richards
XOXOXO

introducing… Rhett McTavish

Exciting announcemet! A few weeks ago, we added a new member to the Lazy W Farmily. Rhett McTavish is a ten month old Highland with long auburn red hair, abbreviated horns, and deep set, sparkling brown eyes topped with the most ubelievable long, straight lashes. His expression can be described as permanently contended. His disposition is truly sweet with a dab of onery. And he has an overall sense of curiosity about the world. We are all smitten over here, as I know you will be once you meet him.

((rhett mctavish, march 2024))

Why do we keep doing this, you ask? Why do we keep bringing home animals when we know that one day, either terrifyingly soon or many years down the road, their death will break our hearts? Because we are gluttons for punishment, ha.

No. We are not. In fact, this was a hard choice and one not made lightly, with so much grief from wintertime still fresh.

Really, we found Rhett because Miss Scarlett Rose needs a proper companion. While she and Klaus did bond fast and true over the winter months, as she approached her first birthday in February she began showing signs of sexual maturity. Or, if not maturity, then at least exuberance. Enthusism. Our happy go lucky little man was bewildered, unprepared, and basically unsafe playing chasing games like soccer, hide and seek, chase, etc. I had started carrying a “NO MA’AM” stick with us on back pasture walks, and really that is no way for any of us to live peacefully.

As for the horses being potential herdmates, they eventually did relax about her presence in the middle field. She had started sharing hay with them a little, and they all three even napped in the same general vicinity of each other, with no incidents. But Dusty is fifteen, Chanta is twenty five, and neither of them seems interested in soccer or high strung little cows.

Scarlett is a herd animal and just seemed lost. Back in October, we had intended for her to be with Shelby and Shelby’s baby, after all. So. We decided to get a cow for our cow. And the exhaustive search led us to a ranch just north of Stillwater. A woman there had acquired a pregnant cow with no record of the calf’s paternity, so he had no market value as a pure Highland. But he has perfect value to us.

He is as beautiful and endearing as you can imagine, and we care zero for his paternity. We only care that he could travel (which he did, like a champ!) and was young enough to be safe to handle and maybe train a bit (check) and potentially a good match for our girl (time will tell, of course, but so far so good). We just want him to have a long happy life here, grazing and napping and being brushed, you know, just doing lots of cow stuff! And helping Scarlett feel less alone in the world, as she can do for him in return.

If you are wondering whether we intend to breed Rhett and Scarlett, the answer is no. Despite their Gone With the Wind monikers, we intend for them to be companions and hopefully platonic roomies and BFFs for the next very many years or so. He will eventually outgrow her, though for now she has the advantage on not only age but also size.

Edit: Since writing that last sentence a week ago, I should tell you that we have noticed that he has noticed that he has horns. So.

((rhett feasting on hay in late march 2024))

To my point about not breeding Rhett and Scarlett: Before we loaded him into our trailer that day, he was directed into a squeeze shoot and endured the mild indignity of banding, a quick process by which he became a steer, no longer a bull. At nine months old, we thought that surely he was several months away from being ready to mate; but still we felt good about taking this precaution right away.

The last few weeks have been pretty wonderful.

Scarlett spent the first few days bossing him around, making sure he knew it was her pen and her cow cabin and her hay and her mama. But he was undeterred. He just followed her everywhere. They quickly began to move almost as one animal, and he picked up on our farm day routines like magic. It has been fun to watch them interact, bump into each other for treats, and nap within a few feet of each other. He learned immediately that the garden cottage is where we keep their proten feed, so anytime I work in there I can feel someone wacthing me.

((rhett sending me telepathy about needing a little treat))

For one day and one day only, we did observe some romantic behavior between them, but the geometry didn’t quite line up, so we are not worried about an unplanned pregnancy. Also, his banding should soon have taken full effect.

I could tell you cow stories all day. They are both so funny, just full of innocence and insistent about their needs, like toddlers. They terrorize the horses, but gently, and they get the zoomies when loose in the middle field. We love them. Klaus loves them. I think Klaus is also relieved to have someone bigger and sturdier to absorb Scarlett’s considerable energy, ha.

The learning curve has been solid. My husband has a bank of childhood memories from his grandfather’s ranch, and we are surrounded now by cattle ranching friends who help us naviagte the ocean of internet answers when we have questions. We also love our vet. I am fully enjoying it all. I hope that Rhett will soon accept grooming like Scarlett does, but I am in no hurry. He comes straight to us when we walk outside, accepts treats and fly spray, and has shown zero agression. This is a very good beginning. And Scarlett Rose is no longer a lonely cow.

“Friends are the siblings God never gave us.”
~Menicus
XOXO

early march touchstones

Hello friends! Long time no blog. In the weeks since we said goodbye to Meh and you all poured out your love so generously, life on the farm has been a classic mix of funny and serious, hard working and deeply restful, celebatory and mundane. Basically, all the ingredients that make life worth living. We have been soaking it up and trying our best to make the days count, you know? I hope you have, too, and I hope you are well.

((turns out, forcing tulips indoors makes a great Easter display…xoxo))

In Oklahoma we seem to be waltzing toward a pretty reliable springtime, and our calendar is filling up with all the attendant festivals and family parties for which I try hard to be ready, after long, sweaty days and weekends outdoors. Who am I kidding? My husband would love for me to be showered and presentable just for a weeknight dinner, ha! But that is a big ask this time of year.

I do love this time of year. I love the mild chaos of a garden cottage filled wtih seed trays, hand tools, and plant labels. I love that the oak trees are finally dropping the last of their crunchy leaves, just as the maples and redbuds are dotting themselves with barely visible leaf buds. I love how Solomon’s Seal is closely following the daffodil parade and that we are watching for signs of tulips who have defied the odds. I love that the horses are shedding and the hens are laying again, just like clockwork. I love the days when my hardest decision is how much regular work I should do before diving into garden work, which actually feels like play. I love that we are collectively trading out winter clothes for bright colors and sundresses. I love that daylight is expanding, birdsong is growing louder, pollinators are exploring, and ideas are multiplying faster than I can even write them down.

((Chanta & Dusty feasting on alfalfa and shedding their winter coats…xoxo))
((Miss Scarlett Rose, getting acquainted with her new pasture…xoxo))

How can it already be March?

So much to do and say.

We owe you all a heartfelt thank you for sharing in our grief over Meh. I have a post coming out soon that will answer some questions about that, and we have some reflections to share.

We have exciting family updates to share! We also have a community event in the works (locals, stay tuned). And I have a milestone birthday around the corner, which has me feeling extra philosophical, ha! So, you know, either stay tuned or stay clear, whatever suits you best.

((a photo from February, but remind me to update you on our handsome boys))

Speaking of milestone birthdays, a little red head we love recently crossed the one year mark, and our dear friend Cathy hand crocheted her this darling crown to celebrate! We’ll work on getting better photos so you can see the details. It is absolutely scrumptious her sweet, forelock topped head.

((Scarlett Rose, middle field royalty…xoxo))

Life is still good. Life is better than ever not despite the shadows and hardships but because the shadows and the hardships are part of the recipe. They always will be, but we grow stronger and more elegant in how we navigate them. This injects such depth and sweetness.

((Miss Scarlett Rose is finding her place in the Farmily.
She is officially one year old now and pure joy!))

Life is still full of beauty and work worth doing. Still thrumming with new energy and mercy and Love. Life is still all about awareness and connection, about what we choose to focus on and magnify.

((oh HI-drangea! xoxo))

Thanks very much for checking in. I hope you are welcoming every life ingredient with open arms and that, if you are gardening this spring, your soil is intoxicating and your growing dreams and wild and colorful.

((dreaming of roses and tomatoes and green bean collecting afternoons))

“Do you know why birds sing just before dawn?
Scientists believe it’s to tell their mates
that they made it through the night.
As a way of saying, I’m still here.
Maybe that’s why we sing, too, why we create art.
As a way of saying, I made it. I’m still here.”
~Jeff Goins
XOXO

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.

give chase

As of today, Handsome and his team at Public Utilities are working in the building again. Full time, more or less, with plenty of considerations and creative solutions to keep everyone safe and happy. Although he has been in the Jim Thorpe building or at the Capitol more and more in recent weeks, this marks a new chapter. The farm will miss him very much.

This afternoon while going on a muddy wander-walk around the farm, Klaus and I discovered three giant buzzards feeding on the carcass of a dead snake (an enormous, previously muscular, now flat and stinking dead snake). The exact moment we realized they were buzzards and not crows, Klaus flexed his entire body, spiked up his terrifying hackles, and bolted straight and hard like something out of an action movie. The scavenger birds dispersed, floated up to the lowest branch of a nearby pine tree, and sat there pulsing their considerable shoulders at us. Klaus delivered his most baritone warning to the sky then turned to me proudly, smiling.

We wander-walked away, but every time Klaus sensed the buzzards return silently to the ground, he again gave chase, ruined their luncheon, and returned to me, panting and smiling. Few things makes this boy happier than protecting the farm. Even if he is protecting us from nature itself.

All of that adrenaline boiled, cooled, and boiled again, without a full release. So when Johnny Ringo (the cat) joined us on the meditation path, he was really in for it.

In about an hour, I get to meet with a fascinating gentleman from Choctaw to finish up his pandemic interview, which I will be sharing later this week. I am so excited to get back in the swing of this project. And I believe you will be inspired by his slant of things this past year. His is one of two stories that still remain to be told (my friends are so patient), then I will be hungry for more interviews. I had to take some time away to kind of let my heart settle. It had all built up in unexpected ways for me, then of course the gardens and all of life reopening meant I was spending less and less time on my laptop. Anyway. I’m back and loving the project and everyone’s stories as much as ever.

This first day of June has been a good one for diving into good intentions, sweaty exercise, happy farm tasks, and solid conversation. My heart is full. I hope whatever you’re chasing gives you the same thrill as wild buzzards gave Klaus today.

“Whatever fills the heart and consumes the mind
is a manifestation of what is worshipped.”
-Alisha Illian
XOXOXOXO