I got this old farm doghouse from an antique dealer a few years ago and Izzy was the only dog I ever had who used it. He loved to crawl inside. We moved it to the new farm and Frieda has adopted it, she loves to sun herself in front of it and bark at the trucks roaring by the house. Frieda is the Queen Of The Junkyard Dogs, a noble breed.
I woke up early today to work on my e-book about the challenge of training dogs in America – an empowerment book, I hope – and so by late afternoon, I was tired. I wrote about eight thousand words today and my brain was empty. I sat for a few minutes in a chair in the living room, and I saw the afternoon sun creeping along the wall. On the table next to me was a small wooden Buddha that Maria and I bought in Brattleboro, Vt. a few years ago. Next to it is a cactus Maria has been nurturing for years, and next to that a plastic water bottle. And the sun was moving all of these images along the wall and I picked up my wonderful camera, my friend, and I took a photo of it. It was a reverie in shadow, a mix of meaning and symbol and message.
My Madonna has been with me for some years, I believe she is a cast of a Madonna destroyed in a German Church during World War II. I am not Catholic, or conventionally religious but the spirit of the Madonna has always touched, a gentle, sorrowful figure, a mother. This Madonna was always in my offices but I have not yet found a place for her in the new farm, and I see her resting on a floor in a corner, in the shadows, but then the afternoon light touches her, and she seems radiant, her spirit reaches out to me and speaks of hope and faith and acceptance.
I took out my new Iphone 5 this morning and pushed a button for Siri, the voice recognition program and digital assistant. “Siri,” I said, bring up the camera, and the Iphone camera appeared, and I took this photo of Maria as we began our morning farm chores. I appreciated not having to fumble around in the glare for the camera icon and the shutter icon. I like the photo to, good color. The camera is not nearly as good as my Canon but it is good. I am not seeing Siri as fun or cute, really, just helpful. It makes use of the small device easier and faster, and I will be using the phone more and the Ipad less. So far, I have asked a dozen things of her and she has executed all of them accurately and quickly. She has texted five messages, made five calls, set up some photos, guided me to several different locations on the GPS/Map program.
Farm chores are the spine, the foundation, the structure and shape of a farm. They are the chess game people play with the farm, as chores are living, sentient, things, evolving changing, challenging. One kind of summer, one for winter, one for rain and mud, one for clear and beautiful days. Farm chores always wrap themselves around living things, plant or vegetable or animal, and so they mirror and reflect those things.
Ours begin just after sunrise, the animals waiting by their feeders, watching for us, feeding the chores their lives revolve around, and us. People with farms are always looking over their shoulders – water? pumps? dry hay and feed? gates good and closed? animals healthy and strong? manure cleared and moved? chickens out and fed? wires dry and working? supplied needed?
People with farms don’t go out as easily, their chores rushing around in their heads. Did she put out enough hay? Leave the dogs out long enough? Make sure the donkeys don’t steal the hay from the sheep? Is the pole barn dry, the lights out in the barn?
Farm chores do not retire, perhaps that is why I need them so much. I am always necessary.
