Took Red and Lenore for a walk in the deep woods yesterday and I looked for some of the first leaves of autumn, backlit by a setting September sun. Early autumn leaves are filled with color and character, strong hints of change and new beginnings. Life and death are not different things, they are part of the same things, as much as we deny death and are stunned when it occurs. The autumn leaves understand birth and rebirth, they teach me about it every year.
A sunflower has mysteriously popped up in the middle of the Dahlia garden, an intruder, a rude and bold outsider establishing himself and pushing the Dahlia’s aside. Life happens.
It is difficult for people to grasp what they are losing when they can’t see what they are losing. It is difficult for people to grasp what has been lost if they have never known it. At Applebee’s or Pizza Hut or any of the vast chain food conglomerates in America, you will not find the very busy owner of the restaurant coming out of the kitchen to sit and read to Iver, the son of a customer. Scott Carrino, my friend, is a very busy man. He runs a farm, a retreat center, teaches Tai Chi, does innumerable good works and runs the wildly popular Round House Cafe, a wonderful place that has transformed my charming little upstate town.
I stopped at the Round House with Maria to get a sandwich and I saw Scott over in the corner with Iver, reading a picture book to him. This is what buying local means, this is what will be lost, this is what children eating in corporate restaurants will never know or experience. Scott gets up way before dawn and is making breakfast and lunch for hours in a hot kitchen. He has a lot of things to do, but he is not too busy to come out of his kitchen to read to a young customer.
Buying local is no longer a quaint local Chamber Of Commerce slogan, it is becoming an ideology, a choice, a statement about life. In my lifetime I have witness corporations destroy newspapers, TV broadcasting, publishing, movie-making and, in a Wal-Mart world, closing in on pharmacies, grocery stories and small restaurants. Scott and Iver are – quite unconsciously – a poster for the meaning of individuality, community and connection, prized American traits being swallowed up in the Corporate Nation. Scott and Lisa Carrino buy food from local farmers, they give meals away to the poor and the needy, their food is fresh and healthy and inexpensive. And in the Round House, a small child can make a connection with a loving man and a restaurant will mean much more in memory and meaning than a quick and fatty hamburger and fries dropped off by an underpaid and bored kid who would rather be anywhere but there.
Donkeys have a curious way of bathing, they roll in the dirt, a natural insect repellent that coats their hide with dirt and also rubs off any ticks or flies that are bothering them. Good for bites and itches too. This is why we brush them every morning.
I’ll never quite grasp the relationship between Red and the donkeys. At first they thought he was a coyote and tried to stomp him, now he sits underneath their legs and works all around them. This morning, there was a very funny standoff by the Pole Barn, Red was holding the sheep and the donkeys were coming out to see Maria and me and collect their morning carrots and apples.
The donkeys wanted to walk where Red was and Red as usual was obsessively and professionally focused on the sheep. The donkeys – Simon and Lulu – lowered their heads and tried to nudge Red off of the path, but he wouldn’t budge and they wouldn’t move around him. Donkeys are quite willful and stubborn and Red cannot be distracted from his work. Even with two donkeys nosing him, he did not move an inch. After three or four minutes, Lulu went around him on one side and Simon on the other, both giving him withering glances.
Red does not notice such things, nothing much comes between him and his work, I think he would sit in place even if they walked right over him. This round to Red.
