23 February

Happy Birthday Paul

by Jon Katz
Happy Birthday Paul
Happy Birthday Paul

Happy Birthday to you, Paul, we missed you this week in the Pompanuck Farm Sugar House, it was about one year ago that we had our first meeting of the Fabulous Old Men’s Club, it was also  the last meeting we had. We had a moment of silence in your honor and memory, but none of us have quite had the faith or heart to call another meeting or replace you.

I will be  honest with you, you did take the wind out of our sails.

Perhaps it is best that we just leave the club the way it was, we had a good time that cool night in that warm and bubbling place, so close to life and nature, and to the good spirits of men who wish to be better and good. If we want to meet again, we can start another club with a different name.

I told you when you last visited that I believe that faith is the only key to the universe, the final meaning of human aspiration and existence, and the answers to questions on which all of our happiness and peace depends cannot be found in any other way.

You have entered into the mystical realm for me, you are a question that can never be answered for me, an understanding that can never be known or found. I remember hearing on my cell phone that you were gone, and life has, of course, gone on for me, I am well and content, but a piece of life broke off and flew up into the sky, circling and circling like leaves caught in a strong wind, spiraling upwards and upwards.

There are many wise men and women who seem to know where you want and where you are and what you are going, I am not one of them. I accept but do not understand. Faith will have to carry me the rest of the way.

I do think of you often, and still sometimes look for your daily messages and links and observations in my message queue and inbox. That’s a reflex, of course, I understand there will not be anymore. But life does not yet seem quite normal without you in it. I guess when all is said and done, most of us do not connect powerfully to too many people, and the loss of one rearranges the landscape.

If you are up there and paying attention, I wish you well, and i hope you know you touched many people’s lives and so many people loved you.

We stay close to Pamela, she is strong and called and committed to do her work. Be well, we will be in the sugar house tomorrow, and will toast you with a hot toddy.

23 February

Hickory In The Meadow. Breathing Again

by Jon Katz
Hickory In The Meadow
Hickory In The Meadow

I think this old Shag Bark Hickory is my favorite tree near the meadow, the bark has a special graceful, even mournful character. The more I pay attention to trees, the more they reveal to me. I see how different and unique they are, much as people are.

I’m feeling strong again, breathing clearly again. My nurse-practitioner says I did have carbon monoxide poisoning, but it’s passed. I took a long and beautiful walk in the woods this morning, got all of my health insurance and medicine work done. I’m waiting to hear from my publisher about my book “Talking To Animals,” they’ve had it for four months or so, and this is standard now in publishing.

I accept this system, I am fortunate to be in it.

Things take longer, I will hear from them soon and hopefully get to work on my next book soon. Once upon a time, I would have squawked to my agent, that’s what writers did much of the time. I am glad I don’t do that anymore.  I am enjoying focusing on the blog and my photography, both are a gift to me.

23 February

The Meadow Dog

by Jon Katz
The Meadow Dog
The Meadow Dog

Fate ran in her meadow today, it was cold but sunny, winter is just an echo this year, a shadow. The warmth has shattered the winter economy, so many people here make their living off of snow, of plowing, shoveling, fixing up cars that slide into trees. The ski resorts are aching, the hardware stores have lots of shovels and salt.

There is really little or no year-end economy in most of rural America apart from the remaining family and corporate farms and health care, the people who live here patch together their incomes doing different things. Their work is fragile, easily upended by changes in weather or the economy.

Many live off the transplants who need help maintaining their properties and dealing with the weather.

For the animals, life is good. There is still some grass to nibble on – they can graze – and there have only been a few bitingly cold days. Fate lives to roam in her meadow, she vanishes into the grass and brush and pops out far from where she went in. I think of her as the Queen of the meadow, I am sure she could live here if she wished.

She has an ear for mice and chipmunks and rabbits, and digs into the marsh for a drink when she is thirsty.  Sometimes she taks off on a wide run and full speed, sometimes she pauses and pounces on a chipmunk or mole. She does not catch them, but loves to hunt them. She seems to soak in the life of the meadow, it feels sometimes as if she is fulfilling the destiny of the dog. It is good we live where we do, I cannot imagine this dog in a city or suburb.

23 February

A Good Manure Pile for 2016

by Jon Katz
A Good Manure Pile
A Good Manure Pile

You might notice in many of my photographs, this growing mound near the hay feeders. It is our manure pile, and every Spring we give the manure to farmers or gardeners who want some of the world’s best fertilizer. Last year it went to Pompanuck Farm, not sure where it’s going this year.

The pile has been enhanced by the arrival last year of Chloe, our pony, she has made the pile quite a bit larger than last years pile. One of our first chores every morning is to clean the manure out of the pole barn, where the animals spend the night. I take the rake and pile it up, Maria scoops it into a wide shovel and carries it over to the pile.

For some strange reason, we love this chore, it is something we do together, and it is something somehow grounding. I love seeing Maria toss the manure onto the pile, sometimes it is still steaming, even in the cold.

23 February

Navigator. Can Old People Have Great Dogs?

by Jon Katz
The Navigator
The Navigator

In the car, Fate is the navigator. She puts her front paws up on the console and studies the road intently, looking for light and movement. She never takes her eyes off the road.Once in awhile, she will lean over and lick Maria or me on the ear or nose, then resume her work.

We just got a dog gate for the rear part of the SUV, we can put her back there on long trips, or when she needs to be left alone.

Fate is very serious about her work, although she plays just as hard.

I love the work ethic of the border collie, Maria says it’s because I am just the same way. So is she. I suppose that’s why we love Fate. When I wrote about getting a dog, someone on Facebook messaged me and warned about an older person getting a border collie. They were on every list of dogs older people shouldn’t get.

I can understand that a border collie may not be a good candidate for an assisted care facility or condo, but that’s the danger of generalizations. Our farm is just right for Fate, and for Red.

That’s the problem with old talk, it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. We love Fate, she is the perfect dog for us (and Maria is much younger than I am). If anything, she inspires me to move, think, be busy, be active, work hard. She doesn’t drain  me, she makes me younger and healthier.

I do know people who will not buy a sheep or dog once they are 65 or 70, they reason it would be unfair if they died before the animal. I don’t subscribe to that kind of thinking. I know many animals who are very happily re-homed after their owners die, animals are adaptable, just look at all of the successful rescues and adoptions that occur every day.

My neighbor up the road has a border collie he got after his cousin, a dairy farmer, died on his tractor. The dog went right to work in a couple of days on the new farm, the two are like an old married couple. I tend not to listen to people suggesting how I might shrink my life.

We project our own frailty and neuroses onto our animals, we forget how much simpler and healthier they are than us. I will not stop living a life as fully as possible until I have no choice, and I am far from that. Fate has enriched my life, as all of my animals have, and I hope I return the favor. I can’t think of a quicker way to wither than to stop living fully.

Fate and Maria and I are in sync, I admit it is perhaps because all three of us are crazy in similar ways.

I have learned to never do old talk. It isn’t funny, it isn’t usually true, it isn’t healthy.

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