September 21, 2007- Sunny, misty. Going camping in Vermont. Anthony and Ida are coming along, to be hopefully joined by Holly, Cail, Bill and Maria, maybe Becky. Paula is in NY working on her book, and so is Emma. Will be hauling camera bags, sleeping packs, food. Much looking forward to the quiet. Bringing two books, including the new one by David Leavitt. Went to Gardenworks this morning to take this picture of the cows grazing behind Harold McEachron’s house, hq of MacClan Farms. Gardenworks is the site of the Art Harvest, to be held October 13-14 (518 854 3250). Berries are still being picked. Pumpkins and squash are for sale, along with fresh-baked cider donuts and cheeses and pastas, books, crafts, fresh coffee, art displays. At Art Harvest, four friends will be sharing their art – I will be showing and selling pictures (“Pictures from Bedlam”), Anthony will be debuting his concrete sculptures “My Life in Concrete”, Maria will be showing her fiber art (“Threads to Threads”) and Mary Kellogg, a gifted poet, will be reading from (and selling) framed and matted poems (“Musing from the Berry Patch”), some of which are heartbreaking, some uplifting, all lovely and powerful. Money to benefit Friends of Hospice. Come if you can.

Art Harvest, Leap of Faith: Four Friends Share Their Art

    September 21, 2007 -  Warm, damp. A farm is a collection of small and large chores, rituals and rythyms. One of my favorite is getting up early on a misty morning, going outside with the dogs, and being greeted by a strange assortment of creatures. Mother and Minnie the barn cats are always by the back door, hoping I will relent and bring out some tuna or cat food. The donkeys bray loudly until I bring them cookies. The cows, hearing the doors close, moo up in the pasture, expecting something. The chickens, industrious scavengers and opportunists, come waddling on the run. And now, just like in all of the farm comedies, my comings and goings are chronicled by curious and mischievous goats – Ruth, Murray and Honey – who act like a Greek Chorus commenting incessantly on my many foibles and shortcomings. They also expect some food – bits of bread, donkey cookies, popcorn. I have become surprisingly fond of these creatures, who, like the other farm animals, stick to their own kind, miss nothing and closely follow my comings and goings and those of Annie, whose pockets are always stuffed with goodies. The Greek Chorus was waiting for me this morning, and like the original one, provided running commentary and criticism on my life.

The Bedlam Farm Greek Chorus