13 June

Bedlam Farm Afternoon. Farm Love.

by Jon Katz
Bedlam Farm Morning

I am missing my farm already. I will always miss my farm, I hope, just as I will come to love my new farm. Farms work their way into your blood, your neural system. They shape your days, define your life, suck up all your money, fertilize you with love and open you up to the nature and reality of life.

Farms are rife with crisis and mystery, challenge and drama, change and confusion. They are never set, never done, never over. They are living, organic, evolving. They are needy. Tonight I came home from a talk at a library. A black cat was fighting with Mother. A fox was moving on the hill. A sheep had gotten into the barn. The waterer is filling with algae. The grass, just brushhogged, is too tall again. Frieda dug a huge hole in the garden. Lenore ate something revolting and threw it up. The charger for the sheep fence sputtered and died.  The latch on the pasture gate is broken. The chickens hopped up on the garbage cans and left a lot of things to remember them by.  A tree limb fell on my car. Deer got into the garden. Mice are in the woodpile. A barn window is broken. There are flies on the porch.

I started a to do list in my iPhone, and then threw it away.  I’ll take a look around tomorrow. I would rather pour honey on my butt and sit on an anthill than live in a nice clean apartment. I love my farm, precious thing. It defines me.

 

13 June

Big Red Diary: 6/13/2012

by Jon Katz
Big Red Diary

Waiting for Red. Your life is going to get interesting, Tess.

I spoke at the Stony Creek Library in the Adirondacks tonight and had a great group asking great questions. Many of them were about Red, who seems to have captured people’s imaginations in a powerful way. I am getting a ton of messages and questions about him.

He is coming Sunday night, checking in with vet Monday. I’ll bring him out to the sheep Monday morning.

Among the questions I’m getting:

Will I use the whistle for Red, as Karen has? No. That takes a lot of training, and isn’t necessary for my work, as Red will not be moving sheep great distances from me.

Will I used the same word commands that Karen uses in her video? Yes, absolutely. Much easier for Red and for me.

How long will it take me to housebreak Red? I don’t know, it will evolve naturally I suspect. I think crates are essential for good training and the well-being of many dogs. When Red is not working, he will be in a crate inside the farmhouse. He’ll get walks, rides in cars, trips to places, people to meet. But until he goes outside of of his own accord he’ll be in the crate when he is inside. I bet it doesn’t take a week.

What work do I have for Red? Sheep in two places, behind the farmhouse and across the road. Bringing them into the barn. Gathering them for inspection, health care, shearing, trimming and handling. Bringing them inside in bad weather. Getting them into trailers for moving. Maria wants to sell the wool, so the sheep need to be kept clean.

Do I see Red as being a therapy dog? No, but I will let him show me where he wants to go and what he likes to do. I don’t know him yet.

What about Frieda? She is not an aggressive dog. I’ll let them see and get used to each other. She has accepted other dogs into the house and she listens to me very well now.

Do I see a book in Red? Yes, possibly, but I have to get to know  him. I’ve often written than you get the dog you need, and I think I need Red. I love border collies and on a farm, they are not only fun, but invaluable. They always open me up, take me places I don’t know I want to go or am going. I can’t wait to see where he takes me.

Will I show videos? Eventually, but not for awhile. I don’t want to be distracted from watching him, giving him clear and focused commands. I’ll take videos when he’s settled. I will take still photos.

Will I let him jump up on me or other people? No.

 

 

13 June

Daisies Rising

by Jon Katz
Daisies Rising

My heart is full today, my spirits rising, my determination as hard as steel. I am on the path, on the right track, pointed in the right direction. Yesterday Maria picked some daisies for me for my anniversary, and I know that any day with Maria in it is a good day, and when I spent some time with the daises and saw them soar, I thought, this is me, this is the man I want to be, this is the way I want to look at the world. To do good, take risks, accept the reality of my life, move forward, tell my story until I drop. Daisy album on Facebook. Off to Stony Creek in the Adirondacks to speak to people at the library there. Lenore is coming.

13 June

St. Joseph is here from Amazon. Things Are Heating Up

by Jon Katz
St. Joseph delivers

I’m not a Catholic, and the Catholic Church is an  unfathomable mystery to me, like the reason for having a United States Congress. But I’ve always loved the idea of Saints. Last week, I was getting nervous about selling Bedlam Farm and owning two houses, and a number of friends told me I should get a St. Joseph statue and bury it.  He is the saint of buildings. So why not? I ordered him on Amazon for $5.50 – I paid an extra $3.99 for him to come overnight –  although I was disappointed he is so small and plastic.

Maria and I buried him in the front yard, in the garden near Izzy. We buried him upside down per instructions, face towards the new home, near flowers. After all, St. Joseph is Jesus’s foster father and he might have some good muscle. A half hour after we planted him, I got a call from Kristin Preble, our realtor to tell me there was a serious potential buyer coming to see the farm in a week or so.

Hmmm…I’ll have to think about this a bit. Never think you have all the answers.

13 June

I Met A Dead Man Walking

by Jon Katz
Met A Dead Man Walking

Went out to walk my dog  today,

and saw a shadow, and felt a chill.

It was a dead man walking.

Who hates the left.

Or hates the right.

And hates his work,

and the price of gas,

and the price of food,

and the people who teach,

and the taxes he pays,

and who knows for sure,

that the poor are cheats,

And blames them all,

for all his ills.

and is too much of a man,

for a spiritual life,

but not enough of a man,

to live or love.

A dead man walking,

who lives in fear,

with a zombie child,

waiting for Armageddon,

so the earth can one day be,

as bad as he is now,

a harbinger of the end of things,

a dead man walking.

And shrinks a bit more,

each day, until his life,

and dreams,

and smile,

is invisible, impossible to see.

And don’t you know, he says,

they will screw us every time.

There is no us, I said.

You are not alive anymore.

You are a dead man walking,

I said. No need for you to fear the end,

it is already here.

Email SignupFree Email Signup