The old Chevy feed truck squeaked and groaned under the weight of 1,000 pounds of grain and the 1,000 pound hay bale dangling from the forks on the back. The ground was uneven next to the feed troughs and the frame of the truck whined in protest as it approached with its full ton load. Right foot still on the brake, she swung the door open and reached around to let the arm of the cake feeder down.
The phone was buzzing in the seat next to her. In her haste, she wedged it between her shoulder and ear and strained to hear over the sounds of the diesel engine, the motor releasing feed into the troughs, and the sputtering sound it made as it hit the metal trough bottoms and scuttled in either direction.
"He's gone," came the quivering voice on the other end of the line.
She threw the truck into park for the first time since starting it, released the trigger on the cake feeder, and slid out of the truck until her boots hit the hard dirt below. Thirty thousand pounds of cattle crowded around her, snorting and butting each other out of the way, battling for what little grain had already been released. "He's what?!"
"He's gone," the soft voice replied.
"Oh, no," was all she could muster.
She dropped the phone on the hard dirt and collapsed in the empty trough behind her, stunned and momentarily dumbfounded. She reached blindly for the phone, undaunted by the hooves of the 30 steers that clomped around it.
Numbly, she raised it to her ear. "What are we going to do?"
Showing posts with label blog. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blog. Show all posts
The Day The Prairie Cried
Mustang Sally
Sometimes hidden gems lie waiting to be discovered in unexpected places if we are willing to take the time to uncover them. Concerts in the park on a warm summer evening are the stuff that dreams are made of.
These hidden gems are the subject of many Hollywood productions. The series "Gilmore Girls" often showcases live music on the town square highlighted in an ethereal glow of patrons in lawn chairs on a backdrop of green grass.
Such things truly do exist in real life - complete with blankets and lawn chairs and patrons toting picnic baskets on a backdrop of green grass with remnants of the twilight sun setting in the background.
It's hard to imagine that all of this exists within the big city limits. This is not a charming small town with a quaint square like the fictional realm of Stars Hollow, Connecticut. This is suburban Oklahoma City, but from the surroundings you wouldn't know it.
Nestled in one of Edmond's most beautiful city parks, this is one of the most delightful Thursday night summer traditions imaginable. People of all ages sang along to some of the greatest hits from decades past. The little ones who didn't know the words to "Mustang Sally" just danced along instead.
It just goes to show that you never know what you'll find if you just take the time to look.
Dining In Is Not For the Faint of Heart
The Dairy Queen at noon on a weekday in our small town is bustling. Almost every table is full and folks are sitting outside on the covered patio eating their burgers and fries in the Oklahoma summer heat. As we wait in line to order, I notice that the place has literally not been updated since the 1980's. The tables are all uneven and wobbly and the booths and walls are dingy with age. No one seems to care. The food is good and it is the busiest place in town at lunch time.
We snap up a newly vacant table and as we wait for our food. I hear two men greet each other behind me. "Hello, Dick." says the first. "Well, hello, there, Kirk." replies the other. I turn slightly to see the pair. I know both Dick and Kirk by first and last name. I know their children's names and a good share of their family history that, I'm sure, they wish no one knew. As we eat our food, I listen to the chatter and banter around me. Everyone here knows everyone else. It is not individual tables talking quietly among themselves, like you find in larger cities. It is patrons carrying on conversations across tables and across the restaurant itself.
All of this chaos is justified under the premise of enjoying the best burger in town and walking away full and satisfied for the bargain price of $5.
When we leave, I weave around the tables in two different directions to avoid lengthy conversations with people I haven't seen in a long time.
Climbing into the car, I breathe a sigh of relief. Small town noon hour dining is not for the introvert or the faint of heart.
That's what the "drive-thru" is for.
Making Summer Magic
I don't know how many people can say this... but I am so thankful to say that I had an amazing childhood - especially in the summer time. To her credit, my mother literally made summer magic. I don't ever remember being bored.
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| Vintage summer under the sun circa 1989. |
Now that I'm the mom, I struggle to keep the tradition alive and have run into a couple of obstacles. First, I want to do simple things that don't cost a ton of money and don't leave us feeling overwhelmed and over-scheduled. Second, we live in a rural area, so the "places to go and things to do" list is a short one.
With the inclination of today's children to veg out in front of the TV and play video games, I know each summer that it is going to take more than a little effort to make summer magic.
My attempt at a modern recipe for my mom's vintage summer magic looks a little like this...
We make stuff and get messy... we might sidewalk chalk the entire driveway or paint a picture... I keep an array of dollar store art supplies on hand at all times.
We take twilight walks down the dirt road and enjoy the sun set while getting out that last little bit of pent up energy. The kids can run or walk or throw dirt clods at each other... I let them get dirty!
One of the best investments I ever made was a medium sized above ground pool for around $250. It is on its second summer. I let them swim a couple of times a day. It keeps them cool and we all get some sun!
Going to the park and splashing in creeks, trying to catch tadpoles has made a great pass time. I will admit that I'm not quite as "into it" as the boys, but they never want to leave, so I know it's worth it.
We played baseball the first part of the summer and it was the perfect amount of time - not so much that it consumed our whole summer, but enough to keep the boys busy. Sports can be a huge summer burden if your family takes on too much!
I'm not opposed to pulling old movies out of the vault. After spending an ample amount of energy playing outside, everyone enjoys sitting quietly in the cool of the living room watching movies. I've introduced them to some of our all time favorites this summer: The Gnome Mobile, The Parent Trap, the old version of C.S. Lewis' The Loin, The Witch and The Wardrobe, Gus, The Ghost and Mr. Chicken and of course Summer Magic. If you've never heard of some of these, they're old - Google them. You won't be disappointed. You can also find a comprehensive list of Disney movies since the dawn of time here.The public library is a great source of free activities throughout the summer. For our age group, they offer a movie day and an arts and crafts hour, not to mention a guest appearance from Mad Science! The reading incentive program has helped keep them reading over the summer. Every time they read 10 books, they can enter for a chance to win a Kindle Fire.
The specific ingredients seem to change year after year, but I have come to the conclusion that the recipe for summer magic lies in making the effort to spend time with your family away from the television - finding the fun little activities that pop up in our area in the summer, while stirring in the occasional opportunity to go on a family vacation or to the big amusement park or water park.
Even though it's been a few years, here is a snippet of what I personally remember about my own childhood summers: swimming, girl scout camp, the zoo, frozen grapes, snow cones, First Baptist Church Vacation Bible School, Disney movies, family get-togethers, fireworks, the old Sulphur Springs Public Library, building tree houses, jumping on the trampoline with the sprinkler underneath, trips to Red River, parades, hours of fun at the park, Canton Trade Days and blanket tents.... to name a few. Thanks, Mom!
My hope is that when my own children look back, they will remember summer time as pure magic. What will your kids remember?
The Grass Is Always Greener...
"You've got a cow out by the highway," says the gentleman with a slow drawl who stopped by the house around dusk last night.
Searching for Inspiration
In the midst of a fiction novel I have run into my first bout with writer's block. I am about three quarters of the way through and as of lately I have a hard time imagining myself being creative anywhere other than in the middle of a pasture at dusk about 4 miles north of Sharon. Growing up I was always so disappointed that my parents didn't live in town. Now, I hate that I don't live in a pasture. Literally. All I want is a small house in the middle of nowhere. I don't want to see city lights, I'm rather partial to the lights of R.C. Phillips Cattle Company whose only purpose is to light the pens of cattle whining outside their house.
Struck Down, But Not Destroyed
On April 9, 1947, one of the most devastating tornadoes to ever wreak havoc in the Sooner State tore through the town of Woodward Oklahoma with a devastating force, destroying over 100 city blocks containing over 1,000 homes and businesses and killing at least 107 people.
Just days after the 65th anniversary of that fateful night, tragedy struck again. Minutes after midnight on the morning of Sunday, April 15, 2012, as much of this small town lay sleeping, another tornado ripped through the heart of the Woodward community.
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| The Path of Destruction: Photo Courtesy of ReadyWoodward Matt |
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| Photo by Kenton Kamolz |
My humble words cannot describe the array of emotions that these scenes evoke in my own heart. I know that I watched from over 100 miles away, listening to Marty Logan's live coverage on News Chanel 9, frantically texting my friends and family to rouse them from sleep and get them to safety - my hands shaking convulsively as I heard his account - barely able to type the words.
"Tornado is on the ground! Tornado is on the ground!"
"I've got an apartment complex that's being hit... I've got a power line across the road ahead of me..."
"Oh, no! I've got to keep calm... this is going to be 34th Street... 34th and Oklahoma... buildings destroyed... I smell natural gas..."
"Oh, no! I've got to keep calm... this is going to be 34th Street... 34th and Oklahoma... buildings destroyed... I smell natural gas..."
The tornado sirens were damaged by another storm that came through the area hours earlier and were not functioning properly, leaving residents with little or no warning.
The stories that would follow this devastation are some of the most powerful I have ever heard - but not because they are tragic (and many are), but because they show the resilience and tenacity of a community in small town America - knit together and determined to recover stronger than before.
Woodward's story is not one of tragedy - but one of hope.
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| Photo by Olivia Pauley via Woodward Tornado Info. |
During the tornado, in the midst of the Hide-A-Way Trailer park where a man and his daughters in a home a few trailers down lost their lives, new life was born. A mother gave birth to a healthy daughter in a trailer that rolled four times as the tornado passed over.
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Photo Credit: Associated Press A Christian Motorcycle Association member hugs Linda Dupree, left, Sunday in Woodward, Okla. Dupree's grandson and two great-grandchildren died Saturday when a tornado hit their mobile home. |
Total strangers came out in full force to help their neighbors sift through the rubble for momentous and anything that was salvageable.
Businesses have brought in food to feed volunteers and homeowners nearly every meal.
Kids were skipping school - not to cause mischief - but to sneak into the area of destruction and start working - without any instruction or adults present, not even knowing who's house they were working on - simply compelled to help.
The local photographer put a call out to all residents that suffered damages to contact his studio and that he would replace any photos that he had taken as far back as 1986 - at no charge!
The purpose of this article is beyond what my words can convey - to attempt to show you the true spirit of this faith-centered community. While still mourning and broken, we are united and determined to overcome this tragedy together.
I know I could give dozens of accounts of other random acts of kindness by strangers and miraculous survival, but they have all been told by others already. My purpose here is to simply share my own heart and bring to light my own feelings of pride in my community, family and friends, who in the wake of devastation, afford me a new perspective on life.
As I thoughts of that fateful night still swirl in my head, a resounding chorus echos...
I am pressed but not crushed
persecuted, but not abandoned
struck down, but not destroyed
I am blessed beyond the curse,
for His promise will endure
and His joy will be my strength
though the sorrow may last for the night
His joy comes with the morning.
And I know Woodward can already see the light of morning. You will all continue to be heavy on my heart and in my prayers.
Businesses have brought in food to feed volunteers and homeowners nearly every meal.
Kids were skipping school - not to cause mischief - but to sneak into the area of destruction and start working - without any instruction or adults present, not even knowing who's house they were working on - simply compelled to help.
The local photographer put a call out to all residents that suffered damages to contact his studio and that he would replace any photos that he had taken as far back as 1986 - at no charge!
The purpose of this article is beyond what my words can convey - to attempt to show you the true spirit of this faith-centered community. While still mourning and broken, we are united and determined to overcome this tragedy together.
I know I could give dozens of accounts of other random acts of kindness by strangers and miraculous survival, but they have all been told by others already. My purpose here is to simply share my own heart and bring to light my own feelings of pride in my community, family and friends, who in the wake of devastation, afford me a new perspective on life.
As I thoughts of that fateful night still swirl in my head, a resounding chorus echos...
I am pressed but not crushed
persecuted, but not abandoned
struck down, but not destroyed
I am blessed beyond the curse,
for His promise will endure
and His joy will be my strength
though the sorrow may last for the night
His joy comes with the morning.
And I know Woodward can already see the light of morning. You will all continue to be heavy on my heart and in my prayers.
Whispering Winds
Surrounded by the skeletons of thousands of dormant mounds of sage brush, I crouch on top of a ridge and look down across the rolling hills, punctuated occasionally with the brownish-green foliage of thirsty Eastern Red Cedars.
As the late afternoon sun descends into dusk, the prairie is mute except for the sound of the wind. It whistles and whirrs, emulating the sound of numerous voices, all involved in different conversations. It is a dull roar of indistinguishable words - except for one.
My heart races and I am filled with a strange feeling of satisfaction as I realize the meaning of this one word.
My sister is just across the way. I can see her on the top of another ridge. She is looking at something in the sand - most likely an old snake hole - she is always watching for those - even in the winter.
We don't feel the need to talk to each other as we trudge along. Every now and then we stop to point out something, like an old bottle or a snake hole, but there is no need for idle conversation out here.
I can see her face, she is not talking. It is the prairie I hear - and today, it is calling my name.
This prairie wind calls out to me, reassuring me that this is exactly where I am meant to be - where I belong. This soothing whisper in the wind is like the bond between friends. It envelopes me in warmth on this cold winter day and confirms what I already knew in my heart.
This land knows me by name. It knows that I have a plan for it and that I will not forsake it to the wrath of the summer heat or the blustery winter winds. It knows that I have seeds in wait to plant in its dry valleys and that instead of seeing a dusty and windblown wasteland, I see a dormant oasis in need of a little care and cultivation, ready to burst forth with a rich bounty.
It knows my name because my name is written here. I write it with my footprints in the red dirt hills and the sandy valley bottoms and with every swath of the plow and every seed that is planted. The mark I make on this land pales in comparison to the mark this land has made on me.
It has supported generations of Phillips' who depended on it. Though the weather and the markets may have let them down, this land never did. It stood by steadfastly and now I hope to repay the favor.
Welcome to the farm.
Seedtime and Harvest
Looking at this old photo got me to thinking... Something that folks on a farm think about often is the concept of seedtime and harvest.
You put seeds in the ground, you water them, you keep the weeds and pests away and when the time is right, you reap a bountiful harvest from your patience and hard work.
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| Our Great Grandparents on the left, our Grandparents on the right, the little girl in the chair is Aunt Virginia and the baby is our dad. Harvesting wheat about 70 years ago - and yes, the concept of seedtime and harvest worked the same then as it does now - both in the field and in life. |
The Bible says that the principle of seedtime and harvest will never cease, the same way that the concepts of seasons and day and night will never cease.
"As long as the earth endures, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night will never cease." Genesis 8:22 (NIV)
Makes me stop and wonder - are we planting seeds of encouragement in those around us? Are we going to reap a harvest of the sweet fruits of our labor? Or are we sowing seeds of bitterness and condemnation and will painfully reap a harvest of stickers and sand burrs?
Daily we sew seeds with our words. Think about your words - are you sarcastic? Are you short or gruff? Or are you kind and helpful and pleasant?
I don't know about you, but as someone who doesn't like to wear shoes, I don't like stickers - or sand burrs. As we say around here, "If you can't say something nice, don't say nothin' at all." (But c'mon - say or do something nice once in a while and reap a harvest of good things in your life!)
Welcome to the farm!
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| This freshly harvested wheat field is nestled Northwest Oklahoma. |
Don't Fence Me In
Give me land, lots of land and the starry skies above
Don't fence me in...
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| It goes on for ever.... |
Let me ride through the wide open country that I love
Don't fence me in...
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| Ironically, it's even hard to take a photo out in the middle of nowhere without capturing the fence row. |
Let me be by myself in the evenin' breeze
And listen to the murmur of the cottonwood trees
Send me off forever but I ask you please
Don't fence me in
Have you ever tried this? Man, you are missing out. Sitting outside alone (or with a friend) and listening the the wind and the crickets humming together in unison, creating the perfect lullaby... you should try it. It's good in the winter, too, because you can catch a whiff of wood burning fireplaces in the distance, tainted slightly by the sharp smell of cold air. Just turn me loose, let me straddle my old saddle
Underneath the western skies
On my Cayuse, let me wander over yonder
Till I see the mountains rise
As children, we used to sleep outside under the stars on a large trampoline on the farm. When was the last time you just sat outside and stared at the stars? If you can't remember, it's been too long. There is nothing like it. They don't have to be western skies - or even night skies... just check it out. You won't be sorry.
I want to ride to the ridge where the west commencesAnd gaze at the moon till I lose my senses
And I can't look at hobbles and I can't stand fences
Don't fence me in
No
Poppa, don't you fence me in
Can you tell that I'm homesick? I need some wide open spaces - and no I will not be quoting the Dixie Chicks next. Take some time to appreciate the great outdoors! And for goodness sake, don't fence yourself in!
The Secret Magical Playground In The Woods
I can remember hiking through the pasture with my younger sister and my niece and three nephews (we are all about the same age, by the way, but that's another story). Each excursion was a greater adventure than the last. We discovered a "secret bone yard" where we knew some tragic massacre must've taken place. My dad later told me it was where they hauled the carcass when a calf died. I like the earlier rendition better, though.
All of these things came flooding back to me when my children came in one evening after playing around the farm to tell me that Grandpa Bob had showed them a "secret magical playground in the woods". I shot my dad a skeptical look and he smiled mischievously and nodded. (He also told them that the same woods were haunted by witches.)
I shook my head and followed as the boys ushered me out to the woods. When we got there, I realized that what was so magical and enchanting to them was an old swing set that my older siblings had played on over 30 years ago. Our dad had used the tractor to haul it from the backyard out into the woods where no one would get hurt on it. Over the years, the swing set has become wedged between two Honey Locust Trees and the base has sunk in the ground a foot or so, making it perfectly safe and secure - and mysterious!
Next time you feel guilty about not buying your children everything their hearts desire, step back and give a new perspective to something old. After all, when was the last time you heard a child refer to a store-bought swing set as secret or magical?
Welcome to the farm.
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| Grandpa Bob found a newer swing in the garage - the old one was shot! |
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| Somehow, they were actually using this two-person teeter totter swing without seats! |
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| There's even a cat walk. |
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| The slide, I'm afraid, is un-salvagable. The boys have told me of their plans to build a new one, though. |
Not Just The Farmer's Daughters Anymore
Once upon a time, we were just the farmer's daughters and content to be so. My dad has planted wheat and raised cattle since he was old enough to walk - and that was that. Times have changed and the market has changed and my dad isn't as young as he would like us to think he is. Working cattle is hard and there is no money to made for a small time farmer in what little wheat we plant... so now what?
A lovely little thing called crop diversification is about to take place at the Phillips Farm. Rather than fight through the hardships, we are going to revamp it and go a different direction.
I was surprised that Dad jumped on board so quickly. I did my research and explained the risks and rewards. He nodded his head without expression (making my heart sink a little...) and when I was through, he said "That sounds like a good idea. You can be in charge."
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| Rev that tractor up, Bobby... we're planting something new this year! |
Look out, folks - there is about to be a passing of the torch (or perhaps more like a sharing of the torch). The farmer's daughters are about to become farmers themselves. Stay tuned for more details soon.
Our Oklahoma Heritage Runs Deep
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| The first and second Generation of Phillips Pioneers in Oklahoma. |
Our story is a little different. The Phillips family has been a group of proud Oklahoma land owners since just before the land run of 1889. That makes us Sooners rather than Boomers because we slipped in before we were supposed to - oops!
Today, our parents and our grandma live on the very same piece of dusty real estate that these amazing folks above traveled across the country to claim. They started families here and planted their roots here. They grew wheat and turned out cattle in the pastures. They cultivated a lifestyle based on hard work and reliant on each other.
When helping my dad mend fence, I came across a fallen and half-burried row of old fence that was clearly comprised of large tree branches rather than iron T posts. It filled me with a warm feeling because I know that one of these pioneers sought out this branch and held it in their hands while building this fence so many years ago. When they couldn't afford store-bought things, they made do with something else - and probably didn't complain about it, as we do today!
Someday I will make my own "homestead" on this land as well. Instead of imparting in my children a love of a fast-paced and harried lifestyle, I hope to leave them the legacy of their heritage, which was "free for the taking," yet purchased with the blood sweat and tears of a generation who helped shape our family into who we are today.
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| Part of our property simply known as "The Old Thomas Place". |
Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown...
Surrounded by hustle and bustle in my current suburban location, I find myself surrounded by folks who seem determined to have a Charlie Brown Christmas. I hear it in line to check out at the grocery store, ladies talking in the food court at the mall and even on television. I often wonder if they know what they're saying sounds like a quote from Charlie Brown.
"I think there must be something wrong with me, Linus. Christmas is coming, but I'm not happy. I don't feel the way I'm supposed to feel." said Charlie Brown. "I like getting presents and sending Christmas cards and decorating trees and all that, but I'm still not happy. I always end up feeling depressed."
Year after year, I hear other mothers, co-workers and passers-by hum-drumming about how Christmas just doesn't seem right "this year". I hear them talk about how they've done all that they should from buying all the right gifts to decorating up a storm... and yet they are still shoveling all this "Christmas spirit" into a void that can never be filled by such superficial things.
I discovered long ago that Christmas should be about spending time with loved ones, making memories and honoring the Lord God for sending Jesus Christ, His only son, as a baby, born in a humble barn.
Speaking of humble, did I mention that, that this is our new theme at Christmas time? Some people have a snow man theme, some angels and some Santa, etc. This may shock some people, but my five and six-year-olds do not even mention Santa. He does not bring them presents, nor do they write him letters requesting them. We acknowledge him and agree that the whole idea of Santa is neat, but rather than threatening that he won't bring them presents if they are not good, we opt for something a little less conventional. We stop as a family and give money to the homeless people along the road. (Gasp! We really do.) We donate toys to the Angel Tree Project. We talk about giving gifts as a celebration of the ultimate gift that God gave to us - Jesus.
The next time you hear yourself sounding like Charlie Brown under holiday duress, broaden your focus and center on the true meaning of Christmas - and everything else will fall into place.
Merry Christmas,
Christmas On The Farm
When your living is dependent on the cattle market or the weather, it seems that it is often feast or famine. Being one of six children of a farmer/rancher, I can tell you that results of these less than dependable factors can be glaringly obvious at Christmas time.
My parents, though, were smart and resourceful and always made the most of what we had at the time. I never really knew which year was feast and was which was famine. Instead of dragging us along to shop among the throngs of frantic holiday-goers or fretting about excessive decorating, my parents chose to spend more time over more money and gave us holiday memories that still echo in my heart 20+ years later.
Each Christmas, we would load up and make the two hour trip to the Christmas tree farm where we would drink hot chocolate around a large outdoor fire and ride in a horse drawn buggy among the rows of fragrant green trees. They would let us choose the perfect tree and then we cut it down ourselves and drug it to the cart path where it was picked up and loaded on our car.
Once situated in our living room, the smell of pine permeated the entire house - an amazing scent that meant the Christmas season had begun. After stringing it with twinkling white lights and covering it with years worth of accumulated ornaments, we would often drink eggnog and watch Christmas movies.
Thinking back, I couldn't tell you what gifts I received or what kind of holiday goodies were baked or even how the house was decorated, but I can vividly remember cutting down our own Christmas tree and the warmth and togetherness that it inspired each year.
Take the opportunity this holiday season to purchase quality memories with your time, just as you purchase quality gifts with your money. Many years down the road, your family will remember the things you did together, even when the memories of the gifts purchased and money spent have been long faded.
Prairie Tempest
I watch as the clouds billow and rumble overhead. The oppression of the sun's ominous fury has been squelched by these merciful pewter masses. Leaves scorched by drought and sun swirl slowly to the ground as a soft breeze begins to ripple over the prairie grass and through the Honey Locust trees.
The farm is eerily quiet - not a bellowing cow or a chirping cricket - just the sound of the wind. The sweet smell of impending rain is muddled by the acrid stench and sage brush and ripe vines full of gourds. Though half devoured by this summer's plague of ravenous grasshoppers, they still manage to perfume the air with their strange familiarity.
As the windmill at the old Thomas place creaks and groans back to life in the wind, I wonder what early settlers on this prairie thought when these thunderheads rolled across the plains. Today, this late afternoon prairie tempest has stirred the drought stricken prairie to life. Against the slate colored sky, the golden grasses of the dry fields almost seem green. The barn cats have began to mingle in the yard and the pasture cows are now grazing up against the fence nearest the house. They know what is coming.
I look at the row of mangled trees just across the dirt road from our farm house and consider, with reverent respect, the potential fury that I know exists in the Oklahoma sky. The booming clouds draw nearer and speak louder and I am reminded of the security of our storm cellar. As the plains interact with the wind and the rumbling sky, it paints a picture of a much younger prairie. From my seat on the porch, all I can see is sage brush and love grass whipping and nodding in the breeze. I see a trail that the cattle have tromped that slinks and wanders into a large thicket.
A wall of clay colored dust rises from the thirsty road and pings and scuttles as it hits our prairie home and metal outbuildings with stinging force and at this moment, I know what my great grandfather felt as he looked out on this very same rugged piece of land almost 100 years ago. I connect with this land in the same way you connect with an old friend. No matter how long you are away, when you finally meet again, it feels like you never left. I am comforted and reassured that just as the storms and and tempests of life may bring destruction and desolation, in this moment, this prairie tempest reminds me of where I came from and who I really am.
Click For Inspiration
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| Now, this is obviously not me, but this is how I feel when I know I have a lot to get done! |
There are so many things throughout the course of a day that truly need my attention, that I have absolutely NO desire to do. Being your own boss has lots of perks, but for this country girl, there is one huge drawback - MOTIVATION! Whether you're a freelance writer like me, a seasoned artist, a craft connoisseur or even a stay at home mom, you probably thrive with the adequate motivation. So, to help us all, I've put together a list of things that inspire me. I hope some will inspire you, too!
Disclaimer: If you are one of those energetic do-it-yourselfers who don't need caffeine in the morning and never let the dirty dishes pile up in the sink, this list is probably not for you.
Here's a quarter... call someone who cares...
When I am lacking inspiration and just need to feel a little better about procrastinating, there are two people I call. They let me bounce my big (and sometimes crazy) ideas around. They give me feed back. They tell me that some things just take time. We may talk for five minutes or we may talk for an hour, but I always hang up feeling a surge of motivation to tackle whatever it is I am dreading. Thanks, Mom and Tiff... for listening!
Catch a flick...
This may sound really strange, but when I am needing true creative inspiration, I watch movies that I loved from my childhood - and some more recent ones that I like for no apparent reason whatsoever.
Now, granted, this does nothing for me when I need to do the dishes -- except for giving me an extra hour and a half-long time frame in which to NOT do dishes.
It always lends inspiration when I need to write or put together some create savvy business idea. This is probably due to the fact that these movies always remind me of the magic of my childhood. The following short list is a sample of some of the many movies I go to when I need a pick-me-up. Some are more current than others and some are markedly strange, I'll admit. I can't guarantee that they will work for you, but if you think back, you probably already have your own list.
- Anne Of Green Gables and Anne of Avonlea
- You've Got Mail
- The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe (the old one from the 70's)
- Hocus Pocus
- Wild Hearts Can't Be Broken
- Sleepy Hollow
- Drive Me Crazy
- Twilight (yes... all of them... I know... don't judge)
- Beauty and the Beast
- Tombstone
- 19 Kids and Counting
- The Ghost and Mrs. Muir
- 200 Cigarettes
- Dirty Dancing
- 16 Candles
- Son In Law
- Pride and Prejudice
- The Importance of Being Earnest
- Persuasion
- Reality Bites
- The Parent Trap (not the new one... the 1960 version)
Get OUT!
Sometimes all I have to do is leave the confines of my home and smell the fresh air to find inspiration. I'm sure my snooty suburban neighbors find it strange that I sit in a lawn chair in my front yard and work on my laptop or read a magazine. Take time to enjoy what's around you, like the sunset or the stars or the sounds and smells of the great outdoors. (Side note: If you are my neighbor and you are actually reading this, I'm sorry for calling you snooty. Seeing that I have only actually had the opportunity to meet a grand total of four families in my neighborhood, I don't think there is much danger there.)
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| Sunsets at my suburban abode don't even compare to sunsets on the prairie. |
Change gears...
I can make myself sit at my computer all day and write. It makes me cranky and grumpy and has caused me to gain a lovely 10 pounds that I am still trying to work off. Bleh. I have discovered that not only is my writing better when I change gears every hour or so, but my rear end fares far better as well. It's true.
I try to switch between sitting activities and standing ones. Sometimes I do the dishes (only because I have to, not because I like to), sometimes I work in the yard, sometimes I clean house, sometimes I just go out and play with the kids. Work, play, work, play... this is supposed to be fun, right?
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| If you have to have neighbors, you may as well enjoy them, talking to other adults during the day often boosts my creative juices... and breaks the pattern of reading Dr. Seuss books and refereeing kids scuffles. |
Take a break...
This is by far my favorite tool for inspiration. I give myself complete release to do something frivolous. When you work for yourself, every minute that you are not working, you are not making money. I used to feel very guilty if I wasn't at my computer, pecking away, writing mundane article after mundane article. Now, I realize that if I sit down and watch TV for an hour or browse at Hobby Lobby without feeling guilty about it, those mundane articles become a little less mundane and my work pace actually improves.
These solutions may sound simple, but actually doing them when you have an entire to-do list with nothing actually checked off yet, can be a challenge. Take the challenge and chill out, do things backwards... as my dad always says just before the last steer has been worked, "If you girls would have started with this one, we'd have been done a long time ago." Thanks, Bob.
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