Minnie and Flo aren’t exactly enemies, but they aren’t friends either. Barn cats are notoriously territorial and these two are rarely near one another, even in the house. Quite often, Flo will challenge Minnie and sent her scurrying away, Flo is sweet to people but not to Minnie. So we were surprised this morning to come downstairs and see the two of them sleeping together on a living room chair, not just sitting together but pressed against one another.
It was a neat thing to see, and the cold might have had something to do with it, but the stoves were going and the room was not especially cold. Perhaps they are finally drawing closer to one another, the ways of barn cats are mysterious and often unknowable.
Every week or so, there is a brief message on the answering machine from Tyler Lindenholl, our neighbor and friend. The message says “hello, this is Tyler. Do you have any work for me to do?” Ever since a friend passed me Tyler’s hand-written card, offering to do chores big and small, he has been a part of our life, a part of the farm, a part of our community.
On a farm, there is always something to do, usually there are not enough people to do it. I always call him back, and in a few hours, he comes rumbling over in his small ATV, the engine roaring and sputtering. He comes roaring through the empty corn fields, his house is about a mile and two cornfields away.
I was not fortunate enough to have a son, I lost the one we had, but if I had one, I would be proud to have a son like Tyler. He is smart, strong, gracious and very competent. Tyler appeared in our lives around the time I had my open heart surgery, and while much of the summer is a blur to me, I remember this young whirlwind appearing regularly at the farm, mowing, stacking, cleaning, raking, shoveling. I had been wondering how Maria could possibly get all of the things done that needed to be done, but then this young dervish appeared, he works like the Tasmanian Devil.
It would have been a much tougher summer without him. At the Open House, Tyler took charge of parking, and handled hundreds of cars for two days.
I have recovered from my surgery, I can do many chores, but there is still much for Tyler to do here, some things I still can’t do, somethings I can one day do. Tyler knows and loves the dogs, they love him back, he comes and goes when he pleases. If he needs a drink of water, or call home, he just comes into the house.
At a time when there is so much fear and distance between young people and adults, there is no tension or discomfort between Tyler and us. We are at ease around one another. He is gracious, quick to smile, curious. He is sort of a human Red, he works and works and rarely loses focus. Maria and I are both very fond of him and impressed by him. He is coming to my Hubbard Hall play in January, he follows the blog once in awhile, we talked about Disney World today.
Tyler is a renaissance man, he is an athlete and working hard at his school work, he is getting great grades this year. He has a Kindle and is considering the books he wants to read. I think he is one of those people who can do anything he sets out to do, although I don’t know if he knows that yet. For Maria and I, our move to Cambridge has made us rich in friends and community, and we have friends who are younger and friends who are older.
Tyler is a gift, we will be watching for him and rooting for him, he is someone who is special.
It was bitter cold today, and beautiful. I looked up and saw this winter tableau, the sheep waiting for their hay, Red on station prepared to keep them in their place. He was watching them, they were watching him, and both seemed to understand each other, as happens with border collies who know what they are doing, and sheep.
It was the winter of 2013- cold, harsh, unrelenting – that got the hardy barn cats inside for a month or two. Flo and Minnie swing both ways, they love being outside in the good weather, they love being inside in the cold, usually within snoozing distance of a wood stove. In the morning, if it isn’t storming, they go outside and hunt and nap in the hay bales.
Maria said it was my idea to bring them in last winter, she says I was opposed to it, I remember it differently, if you are a barn cat and you live near Maria, you will have a warm place to sleep on a cold winter night. The barn cats have preserved their dual life, they are outside nearly as much as in, but last night was especially cold and Flo took up residence on a new and soft blue pillow. It’s soft and high-up, and there, her majesty can rule the living room and peer down at her subjects. And sleep on my lap when I am in the chair. She has a sweet side, if you are not a mouse or bird or rat.
The sun returned to me, this morning (I take the sun personally) after a two-week hiatus marked by snow, cold, sleet, fog and rain. I love my farm, I love my life, but I will admit the first weeks of winter are a challenge, spiritually and emotionally. We need color and light in our lives, perhaps the purpose of winter is to remind us of that. These are the short days, the dark days, the transitional days. On weekends, Maria and I both try to give each other some rest, whoever gets up first sneaks out in their nightshirts and pajamas to feed the animals – they can’t wait while we sleep late – and give the other a chance to sleep.
Maria went out in her nightshirt – it was 8 degrees – and I got up and went out to help here and take this photo. For me, the image celebrates the return of the sun, it celebrates my wonderful wife, friend, lover and partner. I cannot image life without her on this farm, or anywhere else. Sunday, the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year. On Monday, the day start to get longer again, and that is a beautiful thing, the return of the light.
