It’s difficult to sum up what one needs and values most in life. My daughter, certainly. My friends and family. Maria. Certain the ability to be creative springs to mind. In a way, that is life itself for me. Bedlam Farm saved my life, and almost destroyed it. As I have found equilibrium here, the meaning of the place has intensified. People are sniffing around thinking of buying it, so the notion of selling is no longer abstract.

I lost control of the place a couple of years ago, and now have it back, or am close. I have worked hard at that, and much in my life has changed. But my love of the farm, and it’s ability to spark my imagination have never wavered. I’ve written or published eleven books on this farm, including “Soul Of A Dog,” “Izzy and Lenore,” “A Good Dog,” “Katz On Dogs,” “The Dogs of Bedlam Farm,” and my new novel, “Rose In A Storm.” I wrote “Out Of The Shadows” and published two works by Mary Kellogg, “My Place On Earth,” and “Whistling Woman.”

I have at least three books I am hoping or planning to write from the farm.

I’ve also finished two children’s books here and am working on a third.

I’ve written the Hospice Journal, nourished this website,  blogged almost daily, and taken more than 14,000 photographs. In the time that Maria has been there, she has mushroomed as a fiber artist and produced scores of beautiful quilts, hundreds of potholders, and is working on handbags for women, Man Bags for men and Book Bags.

Together, we create here every day, and draw nourishment and stimulation from the house and barns and very air. It was good for me to reduce the number of animals here, and I can imagine bringing a small number  back. We especially miss sheep and donkeys. For much of the year we have been thinking we need a simpler, smaller life. And there is much to that. But I know how precious it is – and how fragile – to nurture that spirit of creativity. It is, for me, life itself in so many ways. I came to the farm to save myself, and to look for love and find myself as a writer and artist. It is not a perfect life, and there are no guarantees in life about anything.

But if you find so much of what you are looking for, even as you search for more, then it can also be a kind of madness to ignore that. I am so lucky to have done all this work here, and to have so much more that I cannot wait each morning to do. Sometimes I think my head will simply explode right off of my body. I am starting to think that the farm is my fuel.

Many others have seen this more clearly than I have. But that is my nature. Sooner or later, and in my own way, I hear and absorb everything that is said to me. I’m even learning to listen. The farm is not about buildings or barns or animals, and has never been. It’s an idea. A spiritual place, and a community of encouragement.

Perhaps it can be anywhere. Perhaps it is only here.