Lenore was distressed that her mud hole dried up this afternoon, but it poured much of the night so we will give it another shot in the morning.

  It’s quiet on the farm, although it’s hardly animal free. The barn cats are hanging out by the back door, it is raining. I worked for many hours on my novel today and tomorrow afternoon am taking a break and heading to the racetrack in Saratoga. Might place a small bet or two. Tonight, had dinner with good friends, and felt very comfortable.
  It seems to me that you can spend a lifetime figuring out who you are. I wrote a bunch of memoirs, and knew little about my life, but that is perhaps true of anyone. Others can see you more clearly than you can see yourself. I am preparing for the book tour, and thinking about animals and souls, something I will be talking about. I enjoyed writing “Soul Of A Dog.” Satisfying and fun.

No animals in the barnyard

  How do you know when you’ve made the right decision?
  When it feels good.
  I saw a therapist yesterday, someone whose clear head and strength and insight guided me through a dark time, and I told her about my decision to sell the farm and focus on my Farm Journal, writing, photography, children’s books and Maria.
  That’s plenty for any life, she said. She thought my decision was clear, wise and strong. And she said something else that meant a lot to me. She said she believe the decision to sell the farm marked my evolution as a writer, an identity I was finally growing comfortable with. I didn’t need to be a farmer to write, or to have cows, goats, sheep and donkeys. All I need was my mind, someone to share my life with, and my dogs. Bedlam Farm is an idea, and it can go anywhere.
  A lot of people were generous in their support of my decision. Some wanted to psychoanalyze me, and others were outraged that the farm and the site would change. They didn’t like it.
  But several days after signing the papers, I feel good and strong about the decision. This farm changed my life, and my identity – the city-boy-turned-farmer-facing-chaos  was the story I created for myself. Odd, but it was true.
  But it seems that is not the whole story of me, not the self I am discovering. I don’t regret a second of the farm (and I may be living her a good while) but neither do I regret turning to a life that is simpler, more natural and reflects confidence in my own imagination. I don’t need a gaggle of animals to write about a farm. Dogs are different. I do need them. They seem to define me. Rose and I went out and tossed a slingshot ball for a good long while, and she had a blast. So did I. She seems less distracted and battered already. So, perhaps, do I.
 So it seems I want to be a writer of novels and a children’s book writer and a photographer, and I don’t have to have all of the stories eating hay in my backyard. I can actually make some of them up.
 For me, it feels like a good decision. I am learning who I am. This blog will always be a daily part of that process, along with my photos.

  July 29, 2009 – Hot, sticky. The dogs are all inside, gathered around my computer, out of the sun. I’m getting ready to bear down on the novel, thinking about the importance of encouragement. Sometimes, those who are fortunate have people who will encourage us, support us in our lives. Sometimes, we need to encourage ourselves to free the inner spirits, to liberate the stories, paintings, poems and photos that want to come out. Encourage yourself. It’s your life, and you are the only person who really knows how you ought to live it, even though many people may think they know what you should do.