Day: November 12, 2017

I

Today, on the way  back from Vermont, we drove by the farm where we first saw Simon after he was taken by the New York State Police off of a farm where he was near death from starvation and neglect.

Simon’s story deeply affected me and Maria as we agreed to adopt him, nurse him back to health, and love him dearly. He was a sweet and compelling character, he showed no bitterness or hostility for all of his troubles.

I will never forget those gentle and amazing moments when he lay inert in our back pasture and I knelt down alongside of him and applied wounds and salves to his many sores and injuries and infections. He let me touch every wound, stick my hand in his mouth, rub his gums and polish his surviving teeth.

He recovered quickly and walked with me in the woods, and brayed  for joy every morning when I came out of the house we called it the “call to life.” I even wrote a book about him, “Saving Simon.”

I will always remember his love for me, his love for people, the sense of gratitude and appreciation he always exuded. What a sweet and remarkable creature he was. I found a video in my file giving thanks for him on the Thanksgiving before he died suddenly from a stroke, and I am happy to post it again.

I will always remember you Simon, I am grateful for every day I spent with you and your generous and loving soul.

Some farm updates:

Flo seems to have shed her cold, two days of anti-biotics did the trick. I realize that people get upset when an animal is sick here, but I ought to say I share my life her as it unfolds, and every animal here will be sick at one point or another, they eat all kinds of stuff, there are all kinds of worms and germs  and ticks and fleas on a farm.

Flo just had a cold.

Very few of these issues are serious, they are part and parcel of life on a farm. I am allergic to drama, a gift from my mother.

When an animal gets sick, I take them to the vet or call the vet to come here.

If it’s bad, I’ll say so, otherwise, it’s just a part of life, no call for prayers or anxiety. The Gray Hen came out of her long funk and is behaving normally also, so it is a good thing I didn’t shoot her.

As a journalist, I learned that bad news travels faster than any kind of news, and no news is quite often good news.

I also ought to say that I don’t reply to queries on Facebook about how the animals are feeling, or who has died in the past five or six years. I can’t accommodate the strangers who pop up on Facebook and want updates or briefings or wonder where Simon or Elvis is.

It would be a lie to say I wish I could, because I would hate spending my day that way in any case. Social media promotes the idea that everyone is available all of the time, and that is true for many people, but it is not true for me. I come onto social media once or twice a day, read most of the comments, and reply to some. Any hostile or nasty poster is banned instantly and quite happily.

I will be honest, and admit it does gall me at times when demands to know something I wrote about just that morning on the blog. I am not obliged to respond to that.

Each obnoxious or hostile person I kick off the site marks a step forward for free and civil speech. It happens two or three times a week. It used to be more.

I work very hard to keep the blog updated several times daily and the only way for all of your questions or concerns to be answered in a timely way is to read the blog. I have learned that many people don’t actually read posts on Facebook, they reply to the headline or to what other people are posting.

The blog will  have to do. It is always up to date.  Facebook is important, but the blog is my home and creative source.

I do thank you for caring.

Twice a year we go to the Vermont Knitting Mill to drop off or pick up the yarn made from the Bedlam Farm sheep, now a flock of ten. Maria will put this batch of quite lovely yarn and roving up for sale tomorrow, each skein is $25 plus shipping. The roving is $32 a bump plus shipping .

We are always surprised at how the yarn comes out, the colors are always richer or darker or softer than we imagined. This year, Pumpkin’s brown wool turned a new and beautiful shade of gray. The details of the yarn and bump sales will be posted on Maria’s website, fullmoonfiberart.com.

This is one of our favorite traditions on the farm, the shearing the cleaning of the wool, the drive to central Vermont and home. The Bedlam Farm wool has a substantial following, and people often send us things they made from it. It’s a lovely thing to be a part of.

We went up to the Vermont Knitting Mill today to pick up some yarn Maria is about to sell and to drop off the wool shorn at our October Open House. I’m not sure who was more shocked, Gus or the alpacas when they confronted one another.

The Little Man, as I call him, rushed up to the fence and barked, seemingly outraged that the alpacas were standing on his planet. The alpacas seemed bewildered but didn’t move much. Gus retreated a bit and then engaged in a stare-down, which accomplished little on his end.

As I have been told. Boston Terriers have no self-awareness when it comes to size or demeanor. He seems himself as a large and powerful animal in charge of everything around him.  I think the alpacas had no idea what he was.

After a few minutes, he seemed indignant, but retreated, he came to stand behind me and then we went for a walk on the vast field while Maria chose the colors she wants for the next batch of wool. She is dyeing the wool for the first time. It will be finished at the end of the winter.

You heard it here, perhaps, first. Maybe you felt it on the Women’s March or watching the news. I feel it strongly, in my life, my blood, my bones. Sometimes, in my life, I have been right, and sometimes wrong, but we live in a world where those of us who live ordinary lives can see and feel so much more than the high-priced pundits stuck behind their laptops, trapped in their arguments.

They keep missing it, but if you close your eyes and open your mind and ears, you can see it and feel it coming. Lots of change on the horizon. Have faith in it, and keep your spirits up.

This is the Year Of The Women, they are gathering on the great plains of our culture, talking to one another, running for office, marching and lobbying, making plans. I hear the great roar building, and the great wave coming.  You probably knew it before I did, but if you did hear it hear first, savor it. I think it is true.

The angry and fearful men do not yet grasp what they have unleashed, and what has so long been building. I think it’s just about here.