Day: June 2, 2016

I am often asked to post a photo of Bedlam Farm from a distance, I’m not sure why. I don’t shoot photos on request or assignment, they are all organic, part of the natural order of life here. I don’t pose them. Walking up a nearby country road, I turned and saw our farm and liked the feeling of it, nestled so comfortably in the shroud of beautiful old trees, right off a busy highway, yet remote and private at the same time.

Our forebears wisely planted a ring of trees – including several beautiful maples – around the farmhouse, as was the custom a couple of centuries ago. We have planted four or five new ones. Our farmhouse is ringed by green and color, beautiful trees and gardens.

Half the town drives by every day and waves or beeps, yet it never feels invasive, we are comfortable there, eager to explore our 17 acres once we figure out how to clear a path back through our woods. This is our third year at this version of Bedlam Farm – Bedlam 2.0 – and I plan to spend the rest of my life here. I think Maria does also.

I never say never about anything, but if I have a choice, I’ve moved for the last time. The first Bedlam – 1.0 – was a creative wellstone for me, i wrote eight books up there on that beautiful hill. How can I ever forget my wonderful study, looking straight out at the big dairy  barn?

But I don’t think of it often, I am engaged and happy where I am.

Still, I have learned that life has little regard for my plans. We are not as invested in property as we once were, we seek a meaningful life.

On the eve of the next Open House – June 25-6, I’ve been thinking a lot about the Bedlam Farm idea. My marriage to Maria was born out of the idea of creative encouragement – I encouraged her to practice her art, as she so deeply wished to do, she encouraged me to start taking photos and to have faith in myself as a writer at a time when my writing life was under relentless siege.

Since that time, we have practiced the very creative art of encouragement – at our Open Houses, our workshops and classes, with our friends. Encouragement is a precious gift to people struggling to find the courage to follow their own hearts, rather than the wishes of others. A lot of people have helped us, we have helped a lot of people.

The Open Houses have always been a celebration of the idea of being fulfilled, following your bliss. I imagined the first Bedlam Farm, with its four barns and outbuildings, would be the perfect creative arts center, but our plans changed and do not have four beautiful old barns to work with anymore.

But it seems the Open Houses have been stronger than ever, even without the grand scene of the first Bedlam Farm. There is a message in that also. I haven’t been back to that farm but once since it sold last Fall, and I’m not sure when or if I will go back. I am not a believer in nostalgia, or in looking back. I live in the moment and hope to be part of the future.

Maria and I have had the good fortune to encourage and support a lot of people, as we both were encouraged. Art and creativity are powerful forces and faith  with us, both have sustained us, helped us grow, and connected us. Maria has been skilled and generous in her selection of artists to show their work at the Open Houses. These artists have been much loved and sold a lot of their work. Some return year after year.

This year, the celebration widens a bit, we want to celebrate the art of rural life, from poets to farrier to shearer to artist to painter to poet to dairy farmer. Our community is rich in life and agriculture, rich in art, each compliments the other and will be the centerpiece of our Open House.

The art of rural life has been forgotten by the big museums and galleries, mostly, just as economists and politicians have abandoned rural life to its own fate in the face of the global economy. I am happy that this dream – celebrating and encouraging creativity – has made the trip to the new farm.

I thought of it right away when I looked at this view from up the hill. I am so grateful I moved to the country and have lived on two wonderful old farms. I am not a farmer, but I have never felt or been more at home.

That’s my farm buried in there, and Maria and I both love it very much.

Our farm is in the middle of a sea of corn. Corn fields, planted mostly for sileage for cows in the winter, stretch as far as we can see, they surround us on our walks, it is a beautiful thing to see them planted, to see them grow and sprout, they define where we live.

In the past newcomers have protested the tractors, manure smells and noise of the harvest, to me, they are a beautiful symphony, music to the soul. There is a symmetry to these three huge fields, the corn in the first is sprouting, the corn in the middle is just coming up, the field to the rear was just planted. A gorgeous patchwork, it makes us so grateful to live here.

This is one of my favorite country roads to walk, especially in the late afternoon, when the breeze rides up the hill and the forest canopy throws the road into shadow. I always expect something mystical to come chugging up the road. Then, from the dark into the light.

Flo is really the Queen of Bedlam Farm these days, she is a wily and savvy barn cat who has survived harsh winters, near starvation, a life alone. We think she was abandoned on this farm before we even arrived, the vet says she is about four years old. She has taken over the back porch, the front porch and now, the bird bath. She is a murderous thing, like all surviving barn cats.  She hunts mice, moles, rabbits, birds and leaves their body parts for us on the porch. How sweet.

She never goes near the road, she gets her shots each year and is spayed. On cold news, and when she wishes, she comes into the house to nap on high chairs. In the summer, she prefers to be outside, living the free life of the barn cat. She loves the birdbath.

Maria has severe allergies and I keep telling her she shouldn’t be out in the pasture this time of year pulling up wildflowers, especially for me. She does not listen, of course, nor does she even to pretend to listen. I could hear her sniffling and coughing as she came marching out of the grass with some wildflowers and I imagined they might be heading towards my office. Almost every day there are fresh flowers in my office and I love and appreciate them.

I am fortunate to live with such a loving and generous person, I have never been loved like that or known it, although I feel the same way about her. Every day I try to think of some way to brighten here life.

And when I got into my office, there were fresh wildflowers for my Muse, the ones she had just picked.