Day: September 13, 2011

I spent an hour in the big barn watching the chickens prepare for the night, with Frieda. Peaceful, interesting. Chickens are rarely still, hunting and pecking for bugs, worms, garbage. Sometimes, when its hot, they dig mud and dirt holes for them to bathe in, while Winston stands guard. But when the sun starts to set, they make their way to their roosts, as high as they can get, and they make soft clucking sounds and settle in. It is a peaceful, even spiritual time, like communing with a donkey.

I also had another lesson in Fear Fighting today. In our society, which is driven by fear-mongering profiteers much of the time, you have to have fear fighting tools. When I got divorced, I was one of those people who knew little of their own life, and nothing about money, maybe the name of my bank. That changed, and money has always terrified me. I can rarely bear to look at my bank account. This weekend, I started feeling a lot of the old fear, and it was because I had not looked. I looked today, and it was low, as I feared, and I had to move some money around, like people do all of the time.

As my agent always says, a writer’s life is unpredictable, there is no check every week.  You have to keep an eye on it, and my instincts were good. I had just as much as I thought I did.

So I did what I had to do, and was frustrated by it, and felt better immediately. Fear never makes things better. You cannot run to it, give into it. It lies in wait like some slimy thing and just springs up if you avoid it. So my tool is to face it. To trust myself.  I will look at my bank account at least once a week until it no longer frightens me. It is far less  frightening to know the truth than to run from it.

May have found a naturopathic physician who will be my doctor. I am almost out of the conventional health care system.

Come and see the inner spirits of chickens, coming home to roost:

If you had told me two years ago that Frieda would save a chicken, then hang out with a rooster and his hens, I would have flat-out said it was impossible. Frieda is a testament to the great heart of a dog, and to the power of patience, love and determination. It was a long road for us, but Frieda is really getting there. Today, she leaped the fence to drive off a stray dog threatening the chickens – Winston put himself out in front and charged the dog, a suicide run if he had made it – and then I took Frieda out to see Winston and the hens and give Winston some moldy strawberries and Frieda a treat.

Frieda nearly killed two hens when she first came and now I often take her out with me to feed and check on them, and she sits quietly and calmly and seems attached to them. A good reminder to work hard for a dog and fight hard for a dog. Frieda, for all her noise and bother, has never harmed anyone. Can’t say the same for animals, but she is turning a corner now. Chickens are smart about which dogs to hang out with. They are very easy around Frieda.

Winston saved the hens today. I was writing on the porch when I heard a frenzied and furious clucking and squawking and I looked out to see Winston, ruff up and feathers out, charging down the driveway towards a stray dog who was coming after Meg, the Rhode Island Red. Winston was shrieking so loud the dog paused, growling, and then Frieda, who was napping outside in the sun, came roaring over the fence and landed right in front of the dog, who confronted with the flapping and charging rooster and the onrushing Frieda, turned tail and fled back down the road.

Winston got some extra corn mash, above, and Frieda is dozing at my feet. Winston looks better by the day.

I’m glad I didn’t shoot  him.

I love my blog, which is now nearly seven years old and which has evolved beyond my imagination in so many different ways. People ask me if the blog is an interruption in my work, and I always say in many ways, the blog is my work. It supports and defines my books, gives shape and voice to my photography, has helped me grow and heal and change, connects me to my readers in a new and powerful way, and protects me in an era when books and writers vanish without a trace in a swirl of media and a flood of information.

When things were darkest, I went to the blog. When things were brightest,  I did the same, a testament to its power in my life.

The blog idea was inspired by some old farm journals I came across, and I was mesmerized by the fidelity the farmers had to their journals, the way they kept a record of things, the candid way they expressed their fears and wishes. Now the blog has evolved – we are on track for six million hits this year and bedlamfarm.com and the Farm Journal are visited all over the world. The blog has expanded – words, photos, videos – and onto Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, all guided by my very wonderful relationship with Mannix Marketing of Glens Falls, N.Y., whose vision and support have shaped this blog at every turn. I am so grateful I did not take the advice of others and go to New York City for a Web designer. I’ve called Mannix in the wee hours many a time and they have always responded instantly.

The Farm Journal will remain the heart of the enterprise, and will be largely unchanged. I am thinking of a page redesign that pulls all of these elements together. I am also considering a single ad at the bottom of the Journal to help me with the cost of the site and the photos. Publishing has changed, and so have the ways a writer makes a living. The blog reflects that too. I’m meeting with Mannix tomorrow. As always, I am grateful to those of you who have been along the ride, and those who are just coming aboard.

The birdbath at dawn. Sometimes I think there is just too much beauty in the world to keep up with it. My photography keeps me trying, among other things.

I can’t quite remember what it was like to come out of the farmhouse and not hear Simon bray in joyous greeting – today you could really see the affection and excitement in this wondrously  brave and loving creature. I love the way the chickens – Winston is behaving quite well – follow Maria around, as do all the animals here at one point or another. Simon lifts my heart. What a gift he is. This afternoon, two asses will take to the road again. In the meantime, come hear the call to life.

Tomorrow I meet with the great people at Mannix Marketing to talk about some changes in the blog. I’m not changing the farm journal, but I am rethinking the home page. A very smart marketing company has approached me about putting an ad at the bottom of this page. I am thinking about it. The blog and the photography are expensive, and I will not charge for access to either, so it might be something to consider, if the ad is discreet and the product in keeping with my beliefs. I’ll keep you posted. “Going Home” comes out in two weeks. I’m psyched.