Day: August 23, 2013

We have found a very nice family – or perhaps they found us – who want to rent Bedlam Farm for the next several years and we are very pleased to have them living there. They already live in the country, know it well and love the property and can maintain it  well. They have three children who have wonderful plans for the farm and some of the barns and we are relieved to have the farm occupied and loved and cared for. The kids are hoping for a donkey, and we can work together on that.

This will relieve some of the financial strain of owning two farms and will ensure that the farm is cared for. Down the road, if the market improves we will revisit the issue of selling the farm again. So there is relief,  the financial drain was troubling, sometimes frightening, and in some ways it will continue, but we couldn’t be happier with this family or more comfortable with them. Maria and I spent some time with them this evening and we felt completely at ease and in sync.

The selling of Bedlam Farm has been an emotional roller coaster, and a surprise to me, and we all – me, Maria, Kristin Preble, our determined and faithful realtor – need and want some time off from it. In suspect in a couple of years, the market will be different.  My disappointment comes from the fact that in nearly two years, there were many lookers and not one serious potential buyer. The market was not good  here, I understand that, but I was taken aback by the number of people who came here, took up substantial amounts of our time and Kristin’s, claimed to be interested, promised to call back quickly and simply never did.

We all came to see that many of them were just pretending, it was a day in the country to see a place that interested them. At first, I came along to answer questions, and stopped when I realized most of these people were not sincere. Poor Kristin had to march up and down our steep hill a hundred times, people wanted to see where I read “City Of God” to Rose and look for the spot where Orson was buried.

Over time, it became clearer to me that these people did not have any real interest in buying Bedlam Farm, they just wanted to see it, find the spot where Rose stood in the pasture, walk the path, see the barns and pastures where my dogs worked and played, lived and died. In a sense, I suppose this ought to be flattering, but mostly it ended up being discouraging. I hope Kristin will eventually get her deserved commission. I suppose it is an inevitable part of celebrity, and I was slow to realize that so many dog fantasies powered these visits and took up so much of our time and energy. We had a couple of scares – some people who were not honest tried to get their hands on the farm, some narrow escapes.

The fantasies became clearer over time. People wanted to bring their dogs up to herd sheep. They wanted to bring their dogs and write a book or two about them. They wanted to bring their horses to live in our pastures. They wanted to spend a night or two on the farm sleeping with their dogs to make sure it felt safe.  They wanted to bring their dogs and live alone with them in the country, write poems about them. The pattern became clear, enthusiastic phone calls, long and elaborate showings – they wanted to see every thing, promises to call back immediately with offers. I can easily understand someone coming to the farm and not buying it – surely, it is not for everyone – but it is difficult for me to comprehend so many people proclaiming how much they loved the place, promising to call first thing in the morning, and then vanishing.

I suppose I’m responsible for this, in a sense, I lived out my own fantasies here and wrote books about them. Why shouldn’t others be tempted to do the same thing? I suppose when they return home reality strikes and they just can’t bring themselves to do what they say they will do, perhaps they are embarrassed. Or maybe they never intended to buy the farm at all, they just wanted to see it. Sadly, that is what I think was going on much the time. Over this long period, nearly two years, I don’t think there was one truly serious buyer, just a lot of people coming to gawk and walk through the barns, go through the motions. As one woman told me, it was more fun than going to a movie. That’s the hard part for me, I am grateful to my fans and readers, they support and sustain me, but this is a part of celebrity I don’t care for and makes me sad.

In any case, everything had a purpose and this phase of our loves is over, at least for now. We won’t have to worry about the farm, it is in good hands. This lovely and hard-working family came to us with three very nice and impressive children, kids who will clearly pitch in and enjoy the farm and help keep it in shape.

The kids lifted my heart when they stood on the porch and discussed many plans for the Studio Barn – sleepovers, playhouses. I am happy about it, and relieved. It seems the people who never once came to look were the ones who belonged. I love my life, it is filled with crisis and mystery.

The milkhouse on Route 30 is nearly two centuries old, it has been abandoned as long as anyone can remember, farm milkhouses were built so farmers could store their fresh milk and have neighbors or dairies come and pick it up, they have not been used for decades, and generally, they are too small and out of the way to merit tearing down. They remind me of sentinels, they seem to guard approaches and roads and sometimes, they stand even when the farmhouses and the farms are gone. This one is losing it’s roof to rain and storms, it sits by a marsh and catches the falling sun.

I think of small business owners in America as often being heroic, in the Corporate Nation the deck is stacked against them. Corporate lobbyists push for legislation that complicates their lives, increases their paperwork, imposes regulatory fees that only big corporations can afford to pay. Pharmacies, bookstores, pet stories compete against corporate chains that buy in bulk and are predatory, driving out smaller competitors. I am turning my life inside out to buy local and it has brought me new friends, great connection, extraordinary service and a powerful sense of community.

I buy my books at Battenkill Books from Connie, I buy my medicines from Bridget at O’Hearn’s, I buy my dog from from Celeste at the Handsome Hound in North Bennington, Vermont, my sandwiches from the Round House Cafe. The Handsome Hound is half hour drive, it is worth every mile. The dog people come in steadily to talk to Celeste, ask her opinion about food, fret about their pet’s health problems. Unlike corporations, small business owners seem to have a conscience about the things they sell, they know my name and offer me very personal service. When I went to the Handsome Hound today to get my Fromm Food and a new collar for Red, Celeste came out to the car to try different sizes out on him. It is gratifying to buy my dog food from a true animal lover – her face lights up in joy when she is around her dogs – rather than some angry kid who hates his job and pretends to be courteous.

The Handsome Hound is sweetest place. Celeste is surrounded by her boisterous Bernese Mountain Dogs and various dogs left there for grooming – lots of joyous barking. She follows my blog, always takes time to chat, talks to me about my photos, she is restoring an old Vermont schoolhouse and moving there in the fall.  She is a rabid Red Sox fan and a great animal lover, she only sells  holistic foods and will not sell anything she doesn’t think is good for dogs – I wonder how many pet chain stores do that.

I fear that one day soon the Connie’s and Bridget’s and Celeste’s of the world – they are friends as well as merchants – will not be able to survive the onslaughts of Amazon, CVS and Rite-Aid and Petco. Americans seem to care about the lowest prices more than they care about anything else and these sweet and personal stores sometimes feel like fortresses to me, little Alamo’s holding off assaults from the great corporate armies and their many lobbyists and docile regulators. The desk seems stacked against them, yet they hold on, hang on, bright but fading outposts of individuality and connection. I always feel like a human being when I buy local, I never do in a corporate franchise. In our fragmenting corporate world, it is hard to feel like a human sometimes, hard to feel like you matter. I always do when I buy local.

I don’t know how long Celeste can or will hang out, but I will hang onto her as long as she does.

The second Bedlam Farm Open House/Art Show/Herding Demos/Donkey Fest will be held next Sunday, September 1, from noon to four p.m. at our new home, we are privileged to be able to share our lives with you. I call it Bedlam Farm 2.0, same thing on a different scale.

We will offer you visits to Simon and Lulu and Fanny, several sheepherding demos from the redoubtable Red, and some great and affordable art from Maria and several other artists in the Schoolhouse Studio. It is fun, we had more than 600 people in July.

We cannot offer refreshments or restrooms but there are several nearby. Momma’s restaurant is closed for now, but consider visiting the Round House Cafe for it’s wonderful brunches and muffins and the Battenkill Bookstore will also be open, it is right down the road. Is is always wonderful to put faces to the names I’ve been seeing for years. Please do not bring dogs or let your kids chase the chickens. The donkeys love carrots, but I think we will have enough on hand. They are very sweet, they love company. Simon adores children. Lenore will be on hand to greet, please don’t throw balls or sticks for her, thank you.

There is no charge, we are accepting donations for the Hubbard Hall Scholarship Fund. Mary Kellogg will be reading some of her wonderful poetry, I will be giving a talk or two about our move and our work and our lives here.

We are planning two more open houses next year, in June and again in September. Maria and I will be hosting a joint art show, her art and my photos next June. This year, we are excited to open the farm up to you, hope you can come by. Details on Maria’s website, and thank you.

This is the second posting in my new interactive story-telling project, where a writers and his readers share a story. I took this photo of an 1840 farmhouse and it is very interesting to me as it sends a number of mixed signals – the flag, the garden (there is a “namaste” sign by the driveway). I got a wonderful response from the first photo, and I’d love to keep this idea going, this is one of the good things Facebook offers. Please tell me what story this photo tells you?