Lazy W Marie

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

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duck tales, a-woo-hoo

Between what ages would a person be to have read the title of this blog post as a cartoon jingle, and what after school snack are you now craving?

On the first brutally cold morning of this artic storm in Oklahoma (in every where), our two ducks were so cold they were struggling to walk in the south coop, so we quickly brought them into the house to warm up. They took up residence in the downstairs (pink) baththroom and have provided loads of entertainment ever since. Their bathtub days are numbered, though, as the forecast continues to imporove, so I am sharing a few stories to really soak up the moment.

Rick Astlee and Klaus in a friendly stare off,
Mike Meyers Lemon doing his own thing as usual.

First, Klaus believes this is all for him. He believes we brought them indoors for his pleasure alone, and he has established a routine where two or three (or seven) times per hour he interrupts us, staring unblinkingly at us from his soul, and leads us to the closed bathroom door. The instant we open the door and he can see the ducks, his tail starts wagging. No, his whole, long, substantial body starts wagging. He grins wolfishly and pants in a baritone way, gazing left and right and in small, slow circles as Rick Astlee and Mike Meyers Lemon scuttle around the towel-lined bathtub. After a few minutes of tense but safely guarded interaction, we escort Klaus out and close the door. For the next three or four minutes, our gentle giant finds the nearest stuffed animal and thrashes it hard, violently I am afraid; then he runs back and forth across the concrete floor, smiling like it’s his birthday. Then he usually falls asleep. This routine is literally the first thing he does upon waking up in the morning and the very last thing he does before retiring at bedtime. We are powerless against his begging. I do not know how we will handle the emotional void when the ducks return to their chicken flock.

Next, the ducks are noisy. I mean, quacking is the least of it. They are big and strong (for ducks, at least, in my limited duck experience) and highly energetic. They make lots and lots of racket, especially when we run them some warm bath water to play in. Today as we exited the bathroom for them to swim peacefully alone, they went bezerk. Mike Meyers Lemon especially flipped upside down, spun in tight little counterclockwise circles, and dove repeatedly, in that wonderful dramatic duck-swoop way, into the foot-deep warm water. It was quite a sight. Even without the water to splash, though, they climb and wrestle and pitter patter nonstop until about 9:00 p.m. It’s amazing and sweet.

Also, my favorite beach towel: Will my favorite beach towel, which I grabbed that first day to warm up the ducks, ever be the same again after their indiscriminate filthiness? No. The ducks defacated all over it and embedded seed like it was a mosaic project. Goodbye, blue and green sea turtle beach towel that was the perfect length for me. You died a noble death. Thank you for all the paperback reading-sunburn-on-the-deck memories.

The ducks’ indoor adventure has coincided with the widespread energy crisis in Oklahoma (and beyond), at the epicenter of which my husband has been working an average of 16 hour days. He is virtually undistractible while working this hard on something this important; but today at a relatively calm moment, he heard the ducks’ chaos from his upstairs office. My tall, handsome, super smart, thunder-and-lightning bolt husband appeared just to playfully reprimand our temporary houseguests: “You ducks better caaaallmmm doooowwn! That’s enough! You’re being crazy! We are gonna have to burn this bathroom down after this!” Sadly, they ignored him wholesale and continued their white water party. This man has been crafting large scale, unheard of solutions to unprecedented crises all week long, fearlessly confronting people in much higher positions than his. And then he was ignored and flatly disobeyed by a pair of two year old water fowl.

One more note about the ducks’ indiscriminate filthiness: The smell is pretty special. Have you ever been to, like, a herpatarium at the zoo, and there is also a cat’s litter box in there for some reason?

The End.

small changes, big miracles

Even before Labor Day weekend, when Oklahoma was still hot and scratchy and humid, when we were still slow paced and sticking to ourselves in that humid, chlorine scented, bare ankles kind of way, the wild sumacs turned a purplish magenta. It was the first, brash signal, found mostly on hidden trails. Everything else was still the solid, lush, emerald green and as hot as the Amazon.

Then on September 8th, on the evening of Jocelyn’s 25th birthday, a cold front moved through. Temperatures dropped sharply as daylight faded, and the sky let loose buckets and buckets of truly cold rain, like so much pent up emotion. Our dear friend lost one of her dear friends. We all cuddled up at our respective homes, hoping for and trusting in The Very Best Possibilities. Handsome and I ate ate bowls of cozy comfort food and watched a show about surviving in the Canadian Arctic. Alone, together.

Now, after just two days of this premonitory autumn cold shoulder, the Elm trees are yellowing brightly to catch up with the sumacs, so many leaves now confetti-strewn across the back field. Oaks are soon to follow. And the sedum is blushing into that dusty lavender brown. Armfuls of sunflowers and hydrangea blooms look heavy with their burdens of rain, and faded, but still plenty full of secrets and surprises.

This weather is a shift for all creatures great and small. Llamas go insane, especially Meh. Honeybees rally around their queen. Hens lay eggs again. Klaus relishes the fifty-five degree days and remembers how to sprint and chase down semi feral forest cats. Once again he spends his energy in great, lusty bouts, untamable, and then is content to snooze between missions, this pattern on repeat, all day long.

These are the transition days. After so many years here (13!), this is all finally more familiar to my body and spirit than all of my previous autumns, all those childhood years of football games and chili cook offs, all those young-family days of back to school events and late night volleyball or basketball practice. This is home and home base and we have a good, natural rhythm here. One worth keeping. This is more than some extra escape. I have unending work worth doing, and I am so thankful for it all.

How awe-inspiring, that so much can change in a couple of days, following the shift of small details quite outside of our control. How wonderful that air temperature and light differences and moisture can, together, generate so much beauty and energy.

Let’s help each other remember that the Very Best Possibilities are more than flimsy maybe ideas. They are all of the refreshing miracles we have been craving and counting on. Coming at us in the perfect time. Outside of our own doing. Just like autumn.

“Here is joy that cannot be shaken.
Our light can swallow up your darkness,
but your darkness cannot now infect our light.”
~C.S. Lewis
XOXOXO

impermanence

Yesterday afternoon, Handsome walked into the Apartment where Jess and I had parked to do some serious conversating. He announced playfully that between the dogs roughhousing and panting like monsters and the women talking nonstop, the temperature inside the house had risen five degrees. Ha! It might actually have been true. Once again, #sorrynotsorry

On Day 2 of Jess’ Farm Retreat, we swam, made frozen treats for the chickens, chased the dogs tirelessly, made Bean swim in a tiny inflatable pool donut, fed extra soft grass to the horses, discussed legiterally everything, made sprinkle sugar cookies via Joy the Baker, made homemade pizza from scratch, and watched a movie at the end of it all. Somewhere in there Jess managed a good old fashioned summertime afternoon nap, much needed and hard earned.

We had planned an art project like painting or scarecrow constructing, perhaps macrame, but got pleasantly sidetracked making the chickens’ frozen scraps treats. This is when the topic of impermanence arose. It was such a careful, loving task, walking around the farm collecting colorful flowers, herbs, and bits of fruits and vegies, then cleaning out the kitchen for more. We chopped everything and Jessica arranged it beautifully inside a bundt cake pan before filling the pan with water to freeze. All of this preparation for a treat that will freeze overnight and be toyed with, melted, and consumed tomorrow morning. A brief pleasure, an impermanent gift. But still joyful. We talked about the monks who work so hard on their intricate chalk mandalas, only to sweep them away once finished.

Have you seen Onward yet? Oh gosh. The three of us (five of us if you count the dogs which you definitely should) watched it tonight with our homemade pizzas and sprinkle cookies. It is not just cute and funny, it is also one of the most inclusive, soothing, loving Pixar films so far, with many beautiful messages. We all really loved it, and I actually felt a warm touch of grace for having seen it exactly on this night, exactly in this life chapter, exactly after a series of heavy conversations Jess and I have had this week.

I am not certain what tomorrow holds for us, both in the broader life sense as well as in the what will be doing on Friday sense, ha! But I know what our prayers are. I know what our values are. I know what binds us together and what fuels our work and our play. I know that Love is worth every bit of our trust and that magic is real.

Sweet sleep, friends! Thanks for checking in!

XOXOXOXO

marigold has wounded me deeply

This morning at first breakfast, Little Lady Marigold displayed a startling level of steadiness and composure. A tiny little stone colored frog had been perched on the edge of her bowl, and when I filled it with molasses scented grain, the frog jumped right up to her left shoulder. It landed in the deep, stressed-out tuft of her greyish fleece, and she did not even budge. For a sheep who still won’t let me cuddle her, she allows an amphibian passenger?? Gross.

Speaking of gross, the cats are still nursing. They seem content with jeans edges and such, but wow. How much longer can we expect this behavior?

Handsome was thankfully able to extend his staycation by a couple of days. It is not only needed; it is really needed. So we are relaxing a little extra today and tomorrow, expecting to resume daytime remote office duties early Wednesday morning. I skimmed an online article about how people are designing their work-from-home office spaces, and I really want him to ask me to do this for him, ha. It’s unlikely to happen, though, if only because he loves to work from either of his car shops. He takes advantage of every spare minute to either tinker with his fun cars or make progress on the Batmobile, and I totally get that. Are you following his Batmobile photos yet?

Today is Quarantine Day 128. We are enjoying some New Moon energy, and our late July weather could not be more luxurious. The first day of autumn (September 22nd) is a bright and glossy 64 days away, and our first average frost date is at least 101 days away. Probably more. These facts help me breathe deeply, like I am buffered by a wide, velvet greenbelt of summertime. I feel so lucky to live in Oklahoma, where the growing season is not only long but also multi-faceted. It gives us lots of choices and keeps us guessing. We have first spring, second spring, early summer, late summer, at least three autumns, and maybe an Indian summer too.

Jess has been working lots of overtime at the hospital and has scheduled her corresponding days off all together, rather than staggered like usual. It will look and feel like a nice vacation, but she will leave her vacation time untouched. Genius! We are excited for her to get some much needed rest, and we are really excited that she will spend part of her time off here at the farm. I have said it before with Jocelyn, and it is still true: Preparing a guest room for your adult kids before they visit is at least as much fun as preparing the nursery before going to the hospital. And that is saying a lot.

We are working on some fun projects for the upcoming school year, so stay tuned! And happy fresh new week, friends! Thanks as always for reading and for sending me your thoughts. I love hearing from you.

“Then tell me of your long journey home.”
~Cold Mountain
XOXOXOXO

and so we welcome July

Hello, and happy fresh new month! According to my journal, today is our 109th day of quarantine. It has become a flexible lifestyle, one that is evolving through the changing seasons. I feel the need to document more if it all.

Handsome and I have fallen comfortably into a work-from-the-farm summertime routine. Monday through Friday, we wake up and drink coffee together just before daybreak. The animals can be very demanding, even as early as 6 a.m. So if they catch us walking around taking in the technicolor skies, odds are good that chores start early. He eventually tackles his Commish projects and teleconferences from the relative comfort of either of his two car shops. I divide my morning hours between housework and laundry, the animals and gardens, and some form of exercise. Klaus rotates between us, preferring us all three to hang out together, of course, but he does seem finally resigned to this confusing new division of labor. Having a new sheep to gently terrorize has been a nice outlet for his restless energy, ha.

Speaking of routines, starting today I am attempting a blogging streak. My plan is to post daily updates for the entire month of July then reevaluate. My long stretches of not writing have never been for a lack of happenings; it’s really that I can barely keep up! Maybe if I write a little more as we go that will help. Better than nothing, at least. Will you read along? Will you share your thoughts and life events, too? I hope so.

Yesterday we wore our masks to vote in the Oklahoma primaries. Our polling place is a local church, and their spacious auditorium was arranged nicely for good social distancing. How many more voting cycles do you think will happen under these circumstances? Some rumors suggest two more years like this, living cautiously while covid-19 rages. It’s a moment in history for sure.

Our tomatoes, blackberries, herbs, peppers, and various squashes are growing and ripening like crazy. I am seeing tiny watermelons popping up on the green vines, too. Our hens are laying between 7 and 12 eggs per day, despite the heat. We have killed two large snakes in the east coop though, so perhaps they are laying far more than I am collecting, and the snakes are just well fed.

The day lilies, hydrangeas, and hollyhocks are so thrilling this summer. I have in the past been pretty content with just massive sprays of zinnias here and there. But since those are moving slowly this year, I am more than comforted by these lush perennial displays. I am also loving the wildflowers growing with abandon out front, along The Enchanted Path. My friend Lynn suggested this photo below looks like a wildflower bridal bouquet, and I agree.

How are you faring? How is whatever stage of quarantine you are at, affecting you? Are you able to sink into summertime pleasures, or are you feeling the squeeze of confinement too much?

Thank you for all of the loving messages after yesterday’s blog post, about our difficult family news. As it feels right, I will share them with my girls. Many of you already understand what a complicated and difficult situation this already was. Prayers and Love and grace will soothe everything in time.

Please take care of yourself! Be well, physically and emotionally. Know that you are loved and needed in this world. And thank you for checking in here. See you tomorrow!!

XOXOXOXO