I love Million Acres Farm, but have never quite figured out how to photograph it’s sprawling splendor. Today, I saw the winter pasture right before me, even though winter is over in my head. Everything that comes now is just spring prep. I love these stinky old farms.
Winter pasture, Farmstand, Route 22. Great expectations in this photo, and you can close your eyes and see and feel the farmer in his booth, selling squash and corn and tomatoes, and feel the Spring warmth and smell the flowers and pasture. Spring is just a few weeks away.
Hansen Oil, Cambridge, N.Y.
January 30, 2011 – We left the Vineyard this morning, got home in the late afteroon, when the sky was just lit up with the last sunlight and an emotional blue sky. Got out of the car just in time to catch the last brilliant light.
I loved this week. Seeing all of the libraries, talking to more than 1,000 people, returning to Providence, reconnecting with old friends. It was a powerful and meaningful week, and I was sorry to see it end, even as we got a joyous greeting from the dogs and the donkeys. I do not miss my dogs much when I am away from them, but I am glad to see them. And I don’t have to report for jury duty tomorrow morning. No crimes up here this week.
So many different things happened during the week that it will be difficult to absorb and recount them, not at one sitting. It is always enthralling to talk to people who read my books. But there is often some disconnection too, a sense that I am not always telling people what they want to hear. I am uncomfortable with the very personal nature of some of the comments and questions, even as I understand it is a perhaps inevitable consequence of sharing my life on the blog and in my books.
It’s often a bit of a disconnect, as I don’t write or speak as a dog trainer, or lover, worshiper, or rescuer, as people often expect, but as a writer of fiction and non-fiction who is inspired and fascinated by the emotional geography that connects people and animals. Often, people ask me if I disapprove of breeders, and I have to say I know nothing about breeding, other than loving mine, and have no political feelings about it. I am often asked if I am outraged by the use of dogs for fighting, and I say that there are plenty of people condemning dogfights and Michael Vick, and I have nothing to add to the chorus. One woman asked me if I could help her stop her dog from chasing her cats. I said I had no idea how to do that.
But those are moments of disconnection, and there are many more moments of genuine connection, a sharing of ideas, a chance to talk about attachment theory, writing about animals, the struggles of rural life and farming, battles against fear, and the quite fascinating and growing interaction between people and companion animals in areas like grieving, or projecting, or the way in which we love, rescue and see animals. The rescue culture is one of the most interesting in contemporary America life, yet I don’t speak of it as an animal rescuer, and I like to talk about how the very idea is new – we used to adopt or buy dogs, not rescue them. The metamorphisis of animals like dogs and cats from companions at the periphery of our lives to the very center of our emotional existence is perhaps the thing I most love to talk about, and I got the chance to do that all week in some amazing places.
I feel good about libraries. I was impressed by the librarians, a smart, competent, dedicated group by and large. They will prevail, I see. They are in trouble, but they are also strong, vital, supported and more important than ever. I loved the architecture of the libraries, and they varied wildly in funding, hours, and staffing, but shared a very powerful connection to community. Stirring, in fact. The week had a lot of very special moments for me. Sitting with new friends in upstate New York. Going to see my parents graves and my grandmother’s house and my childhood library in Providence. Having tea with a dedicated librarian in Scituate, Mass. in the quiet before the talk. Sharing Maria’s birthday with her on the Scituate Harbor. Maria sketched her way through the libraries, and her sketches will be come art and potholders. Reconnecting to a good and old friend on Martha’s Vineyard. And sharing my ideas and work with people who love stories and writing as well as dogs.
Now, to focus on a children’s book I am writing, on my book about Frieda, on the Gallery 99 show in Glens Falls February 10-13 at the Empire Theatre on South Street, a creation of Art In The Public Eye. And I have a story-telling workshop coming up at the Half Moon Library in Clifton Park, N.Y. Already full up , I gather. That will be fun.
Good to have gone. Good to be home. I’ll write more about as I sort it out.
An emotional trip. An important one. Some discomfort, lots of affirmation, closure. Connection and disconnection. Learned a lot, about myself, other things.Libraries need help, but they are not going anywhere.Too many people love them, and will fight for them.
Made powerful new friendships, and some old ones.
– Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
