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an everyday life

Tag Archives: Oklahoma Gardening

The Weather Gods

14 Wednesday Aug 2013

Posted by Janell in Life at Home

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Blogging, Everyday Life, Gary England, Home Restoration, Oklahoma Gardening, Oklahoma weather, Soul Care, Writing

IMG_0657Curious sorts might be wondering whether I’ve done little but stew about Oklahoma’s crazy weather since last dropping a few words onto this blog…given the laments of my last post and the headline of today’s…

If so, I’m tossing out a bevy of lines to say that the weather has been very much on my mind these days… though in a good way.. and that I’m alive and well… and that by this time tomorrow, I”ll be in Seattle… getting ready to board a cruise ship to sail the coast of Alaska.  Who knows?  Maybe if I’m can lasso a little discipline, I’ll drop a few posts during our travels.  Photos, maybe… if words, other than “wish you were here” evade me.

Stating the obvious, in case few have noticed, I’ve become a fair-weather blogger.  Or better to say… a foul-weather blogger — one who’s only willing to write when the forecast for rain is 30 percent or more, when it doesn’t make sense to pull out my paint brush… when finish coats need four hours to rainproof.

That my absence from the blog has more to do with busyness on other fronts, that I’ve been occupied outside… gardening up a storm and happily painting the exterior of my house between rainy spells … stirs up a strange stew of emotions within me.  At times I simply rejoice in the work and the result, for both past times are rewarding in a way that writing, for now, is not.  But I can’t begin to describe the relief I feel to have this burden of projects almost lifted, since I’ve been pondering the work for two years now.

IMG_0659Juggling these two outside chores has meant not only that I’ve dropped writing, but that I’ve tethered myself to hourly forecasts as if everyday life depended upon them.  Of course, in a real way, it has.  For I’ve no shame in admitting that slipping my smart phone in and out of my pocket every few hours to see whether the winds of change say it’s best for me to pick up my paint brush… or shovel… or simply head to the showers till another day.. is as natural as breathing… has become (at best) a fidgety tic…. or, at worst, a mild sort of addiction.

Working outside has given me new appreciation for those whose occupations take place everyday in the wild blue yonder.  For plans are just that…subject to change; their execution hinging upon good weather or bad.  Forget the bedtime forecasts.  What matters is the weather one wakes up to… since it doesn’t take a Oklahoma weather god to know that the bedtime forecast is ‘old news’ when there’s a morning forecast.. and that that, too, grows obsolete in the face of the noon forecast at mid-day.

Why weather changes with the beat of time.  It is mercurial.  One year rainy, the next parched with drought.  Temperatures rise and fall in sync with changing mercury levels of old-timer outdoor thermometers. And crazy as it may be to admit it, I love our constantly changing Oklahoma weather.  Somehow, in ways I don’t wish to describe, it changes me.  And not just my current mood… but something deeper that is tied into faith and hope for all things good.

IMG_0660This year, in a Fat Tuesday post, I gave up all my lovely planting plans.  But come May, I saw I was too quick to give in.  Because in spite of our wetter-than-normal summer– or maybe because of it… (since I always seems to get more done when I feel as if I have limited windows of opportunities of “making hay”) — it’s good to report that the bones of all my ornamental gardens are now installed. And that my  two year old front gardens  — taking up space in this post — are “toddling” about, needing very little attention.

Good thing, given all the time it’s taking to get my house painted.  It feels goods to know that I leave for vacation with the roof trim finished and glowing.  And that I’ll come home to less than a month of painting to the finish line… with just vinyl windows and garage doors to go….  Why by the looks of things, vacationing from the blog has been very good for home and garden… and good for my soul, too, since both offer spaciousness and time to reflect on life and God and what and who I love most in the world.

IMG_0661In between all the work, my husband and I are still making plenty of vacation plans … after Alaska, comes Australia and New Zealand….which seems odd, I suppose… to run away from everyday life when it’s time to step back and savor all that’s been accomplished.  But such in life, I suppose.  And not just for us, it seems, since our very own weather god, Gary England, at the height of a glorious career, will soon be retiring as chief meteorologist for Channel Nine…our local CBS affiliate.

Gary has always been our “go-to” weather guy, in good weather and bad.  It will be hard to imagine everyday life without him.  I will miss his calm, reassuring voice and comforting presence in my living room.  Especially on stormy nights.  Gary is the sort of person that most people feel like they know even when they don’t.  Many nice words have already been written about him and his long career here in Oklahoma City.  And I expect many more will be aired, in one fashion or another, between now and his final forecast later this month… though it has surprised me to realize it’s not just the local press.  A LA Times reporter wrote a nice article right after the May 19th and 20th storms worth reading if you’ve the interest and time.   Similarly, the New York Times published a piece a few days ago, which by the sounds of it, had been baking since the storms of May 31st… awaiting for Gary to announce his retirement… for Gary had admitted during the interview that he had been encouraged by station management to keep on being a weather god until it stopped being fun…. and well.. sometime after the May storms, he admitted to the reporter, it had stopped being fun.

IMG_0662When things stop being fun, whatever “things” are, those lucky enough to have choice in the matter move on to the the next fun thing.  For Gary, it’s an executive job at the television station.  For me, for now, it’s being outside painting with latex formulas and flowers instead of painting with words at my computer.  And I don’t regret a single minute of being away — for what a glorious time it has been to be out of doors.  Why this is the first time, in a long time, that Oklahoma lawns have been lush and green entering August.  Or that I can recall tomatoes still setting fruit this late in the season, and evening temperatures hovering below eighty at night.  Today’s morning forecast is mid-eighties and sunny — a change from yesterday’s 50 percent chance for showers.

IMG_0664Some times, during all that planting and painting, I’ve wondered whose summer weather we have had the good fortune to experience.  I’ve wondered whether, perhaps, the jet stream made a wrong turn and lost its way… giving us some other fine state’s weather in the process.  Because if I didn’t know better, I’d think I was living in Oswego, New York rather than Oklahoma City, Oklahoma.  However it happened, whatever its source, wherever our fine summer weather has hailed from, I don’t imagine I’ll soon forget it.  Nor Gary England, the T.V. weatherman, either.

Could be that the weather gods are just bestowing Gary with a fine parting gift.  Because to do the unexpected…. to deliver what could never be forecasted in a million years by the best weatherman of all… well… that would be just like those ‘ole weather gods… wouldn’t you say?

A Late Bloomer

01 Friday Mar 2013

Posted by Janell in Life at Home

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Aging, Christmas Cactus, Everyday Life, In the Kitchen, Lent, Oklahoma Gardening, Soul Care, Story Telling, Writing

IMG_0521It’s a late bloomer, this Christmas Cactus of mine.  But I can’t mind too awful much.  I may be its downfall, for making its everyday life too sweet for a more timely blooming.

You see, only in December did I learn, when others were blooming and mine was not, that a Christmas Cactus sometimes requires a little taste of drought and darkness to bring it to its blooming senses.  Mine had never suffered such harsh realities — no, it did not.  Instead, it was a sunbathing fool, living it up next to my kitchen sink.  Why, with all that abundant light and delicious water it received during its first year in its new home, my little cactus child must have sensed it would grow up fat and happy and live forever, without need of producing a single bloom… either to reproduce its own species … or share its own particular brand of beauty with the world…

Thank God, it’s never too late to learn important life lessons.  And good it is, that everyday life seems ever ready to serve up just-in-time lessons:  Live and learn; Learn and live.  Yes, woe to me…if I don’t live and learn lessons from my little Lenten cactus.   After going on a water and sunshine diet for most of January, my wilderness teacher offered up s single perfect bloom this week, all creamy white and long with a hot pink stamen.

Gorgeous in its solitude.  Gorgeous for its solitude.

And by the looks of it, a lonely-only bloomer it may stay; a single short parable maybe all this late boomer will produce this month.

But I don’t mind.  Even though it’s bloomin’ late, my single-bloom cactus leaves me with enough lessons to ponder this liturgical season.

Fat Tuesday Snowflakes

12 Tuesday Feb 2013

Posted by Janell in Life at Home

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

Birthdays, Lent, Love, Mardi Gras, Oklahoma City, Oklahoma Gardening, Oscar nominated films, Relationships, Snow, weather

photoToday, a wintry mix of rain and snow falls outside my window.  But we might as well ignore that old news … because in the time it has taken my eyes to move from computer to window screen, the light gray sky has become full of fat, fluffy snowflakes.

So it goes with Oklahoma weather… and life and… well, I’ve been thinking of late… those relationships with whom we love more than words can convey.  All of them suffer droughts and seasons of moisture and gladness and sorrow and times when things just seem to sync and other times when we just feel walloped by our powerlessness to fix or make things better.

City officials — was it last week or the week before last?– began brainstorming on further water conservation strategies should our unwelcomed drought linger on and on into infinity and beyond.  Lawn and garden irrigation may be outright prohibited — and/or those of us who use more that what the city deems “their fair share” may incur a surcharge.  For now, we are under a winter rationing plan, following rules once reserved only for the depths of summer hell … which means, that all my big ‘ole spring gardening dreams have blown away in a cloud of dust.

There would have been a time, not that long ago, when I would have plunged ahead with plans of all sorts, come the proverbial hell or high water.  Why, by now, I would have already planned which new shrubs would be going where..and lined up contractors to break up old backyard concrete so that new paths could be drawn to enlarge and soften and fill in new garden lines.  So, I wonder: Is it age that causes me to listen to the weather forecasts and adjust plans, to listen more closely to what people say (or don’t), or to listen to the rhythm of my days in order to move more in keeping with their changing beat?

The local AMC movie theater is offering a 2-1 special for anyone who wishes to view the Academy award nominated film, Beasts of the Southern Wild.  Half of me wants to go, because I know this film would stir my soul and sprinkle in new seeds of thought, that only this particular piece of art has in its treasure box.  But instead, I’m sitting here in from of my hearth, in my Hemingwayesque, Havana inspired living room —  a decor, if you can believe it, that sprung out of last year’s visit to Key West, where we vacationed exactly a year ago today, while meanwhile, back at our OKC ranch-house, it was snowing and my youngest son was turning twenty-four and some of his siblings were picking him up for a birthday dinner of sushi.

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So… though half of me wants to go to the movies the other half — perhaps the better half of me  — prefers to watch the real-time show of falling snow outside my picture window.  Already, the trees are sugar-coated with snow.

I tend not to sugar-coat life — just ask my children — and too often, what I say is just more than they can take.  It makes me sad that I can’t do better… that I can’t share my thoughts in a way that is healing rather than hurting, where words spoken would fall gently, oh so soft and quiet and beautiful like this snow falling outside my window.  When I serve up too much truth… I tell myself I’ll do better.  And maybe, sometimes, I do.  But for better and worse, I am who I am, and I slip into old molds of living, often hurting those I love most without trying, and, often, without even knowing it.  Until days or weeks or months down the road, when I begin to wonder why I haven’t heard from this loved on or that one….

It makes me crazy.  So much so that I try to rationalize away the pain by telling myself that my children (and others whom I love) have many, many friends willing to put the best gloss on life… and that, well, they have only one me… who is willing to level with them… who is willing to share the unvarnished truth with them… well, at least, the truth according to Moi… but it’s poor comfort with no staying power, that melts as fast as an Oklahoma snow.

Today is President Lincoln’s birthday… and if you haven’t seen it… Lincoln would be another wonderful Oscar nominated film to catch today… if you are not catching, like me, a better reality show of snowflakes falling on a drought-thirsty land.

Today is also my youngest son’s twenty-fifth birthday… and I wish… oh, I wish for all those sorts of things that mothers everywhere probably wish for their children, you know, that all his dreams might come true and that life itself, everyday, will be better and more magical than the best dreams can conjure.

Today is also Fat Tuesday, which means tomorrow is Ash Wednesday and then Lent and a forty-day season of time for thoughts such as these.  What else can I say… but God, have mercy?

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