Rocky waits for Maria when he hears her car or voice. He goes and stands besides the barn. The collapsed barn may have to go, according to some insurance companies, before we can get insurance on the New Bedlam Farm. We may have to knock it down, or promise to knock it down quickly after closing.
Ben Osterhaudt is the man for that, if we have to do it.
Maria and I were heading out for an afternoon walk and a car from Ohio slowed and moved on. There were two women inside and they waved to us and drove on. We recognize the slowing of the car outside of the farm. It’s familiar.
When we got to the bottom of the hill, the car was parked along the road. They were photographing a waterfall on the edge of the farm. One – her name was Emily – smiled shyly and said “I have to be honest. We came from Ohio to attend Jenna Woginrich’s chicken-slaughtering workshop and we just had to come bye and see your farm. We weren’t about to leave without driving by.” Emily was with Solitaire, her companion and the two of them live in Dig City, Ohio and are beginning to get serious about homesteading – they have rescue dogs, a horse and some chickens. Jenna is an inspiration to them, as she is to many people trying to find meaningful lives in a selfish and greedy corporate culture.
Emily and Solitaire had driven 12 and 1/2 hours to come to Jenna’s workshop and we invited them to come to the farm and meet Simon and the donkeys. When we got back, they were sitting in the driveway with Mother and Minnie. Emily told me that she had been through a tough time in her life and some mornings, my blog was the only thing that kept her going. Now she also reads Maria’s and Jenna’s every day. It is my deepest wish to be a light unto the world through my work, my life and my photography. To hear these two independent and lovely people talk about my work in the way they did was powerful and humbling. They were a bit shy with me, and I guess I was a bit shy with them. I couldn’t express what I felt.
They met the donkeys, the chickens, and did some serious Lenore cuddling and picture-taking. Solitaire just about melted with Lenore right into the ground. Lots of love.
Emily kept apologizing for disturbing us, and there was perhaps a time when I might have felt that way about this encounter. I have never thought of myself as a celebrity, and never see myself that way and when I began to be well known, the interest people took in me was sometimes disturbing and frightening. I never imagined being stalked. This all takes getting used to, and I will not live in hiding or in a closet. If you can do good with it all, you should. Daily news reports notwithstanding, I find most people to be good and true – like Emily and Solitaire. It is true also that Maria has opened me up in many ways. Her graciousness is infectious. These two never meant to bother me and never would have if we hadn’t walked right into them. It was a precious encounter.
How fortunate I am to have a home and life people draw something from and want to share. How grateful I am for their love and support.
I am drawn every day to these curtains, in the old farmhouse guest room, moving in the warm and gentle breeze that sweeps in down the hill every afternoon. I love the way the light and colors shift, and I always think of Edward Hopper and his great genius for finding the beautiful in the everyday.
My angel quit her job in the new spirituality department at Wal-Mart, she texted,
as the chain put all the local Churches out of business with its prayer and sermon
department (50 cents a prayer, free sermons from Bangladesh). Guns are $200.
“Didn’t feel good,” she said.
My angel said she was texting me from her new job at Dunkin Donuts – $8 an an hour for 22 hours
and one health benefit: if she dies in the Drive-Thru window, or chokes on a muffin,
her beneficiary gets $$2,000 and a $100 gift card. It was that, she said,
or an analyst’s job at a Hedge Fund. I chose the nourishment industry, she said.
Tough market, she said. Sorry to text, she said, but she
dropped her land line.
She needed help, she said, she had a problem. God wants a blog.
Why text me, I asked? The prophets are lame about this stuff.
You are always blathering on about blogs, she said.
I need some advice. God is impatient sometimes. You know.
What?, I asked. She is my angel, after all.
Well, God thinks he needs a blog. Reach more people. Be interactive.
Wants all the prophets and Angels to do it. His son, too.
Talk to kids. Sell his ideas a bit. Lots of distractions out there, all this free
stuff on the Internet. Everybody gaming, liking, sharing, tagging. Obsessive stuff.
He’s torn between blowing it all up or jumping in. Turning point sort of thing.
But, God wonders. Should he allow comments?
And, she said, he isn’t into taking advice. Lots of advice on the Internet.
And, she added, some jerk flamed him when he went on Facebook (another issue, she said),
and he turned him into burnt toast in a second. Facebook wants to kick him off.
Could be trouble if they try that.
How about a WordPress blog?, I said. It’s free. He could moderate the comments. Upload
some photos maybe. But he’d have to post every day. People expect that.
Sunday too? Well….
And social media? she wondered. Well, Facebook and Twitter. Tumblr is hot with kids.
I’d need to talk to him, I said.
What about? Well, his writing, for one thing. You can’t really do the God
thing on the Internet. Not the tradition. Got to be more interactive. Share a bit.
Listen some. More informal style. None of this thunder and cherubim stuff.
Oh, she said. Let me get back to you.
I’ve got an SUV with two lab
puppies in the Drive-Thru. Going to slip them a glazed donut, not
one of those little round things.
Love ya, I have to think about the God thing. No need to share this
conversation. If I were U, I wouldn’t.
So we have a mild sheep emergency on the farm for Red to try and handle early Monday morning. Darryl Kuehne, the Vermont farmer whose sheep are across the street in the big meadow called to say he just sold three of them and needs to come Monday morning and get them out of the meadow. This would be a bit complex without a dog, but Red is arriving Sunday night.
So we’ll try and do it with him Monday. The sheep are not dog-broke and Red and I have never worked together so it will be exciting. The plan is for me to send Red off on one of his spectacular outruns (he may end up in Vermont) and then to walk them up to the corner of the pasture where Darryl and I will be waiting with crooks and halters. I’ll put Red in a lie-down and stay to hold the sheep in the corner while we find the ones we need and move them into the trailer. A large part of my training philosophy is to never set a dog up for failure, only for success so there will be no pressure or yelling.
From the videos Karen has sent me, I understand the commands he is used to. He doesn’t need a lede. I’ll put him on my left side, give him a “come bye” command and he should head out and get around the sheep – is is keen and strong. When I want him to turn, I’ll say “there,” and he’ll turn in, then “walk up” and he’ll walk them up to me. That’s the plan. Sheepherding rarely follows the plan as we don’t know quite how the sheep will react to Red. They might be obedient or they might panic. I brought Frieda out to the pasture on a leash and they were calm around her, about as good a test as you can think of.
Glad to have Red here. The big goal for me is not ribbons, but fun. I want him to feel occupied and successful every day of his life. Mandy is heading South to Virginia. Red will be here tomorrow night.
