Twice a day, Ed brings grain to each of his cows. He goes to the silo, turns a lever, pours the grain into the wheelbarrow, steers it through the barn, giving each animal several scoops. Grass isn’t enough.
It seems there’s hardly a day that something doesn’t break down on a family farm. Choppers, silo chutes, milking tubes. Ed’s life is a model in resilence, hard work, adaptability. Family farms are symbols of much more than some milk. To me, they speak of family, individualism, freedom, and a way of life that is endangered. I am excited that we have decided to bring the family farm notecards on the book tour. We have one black and white and one color set of the Rouse farm, and are printing a series of cards showing photos of Judy Baldwin, Ed’s daughter. These signed cards are also available for sale at the Redux Gallery, online or by phone: 802 967-4211. I am pleased to be able to offer these images of one family farm, and hopefully help farmers a bit as well. A portion of the proceeds go to the Washington County Farm Bureau and to other farm aid groups.
Rose has given me a lot of gifts, and I can never thank her enough for them. She came with me to the farm. She saved my life, several times. She battled coyotes, belligerent rams, angry ewes, rabid feral cats and raccoons, wild pigs, stray dogs, heat, cold, ice, mud and snow. She has been kicked by donkeys, stomped by cows, cut by barbed wire, run over by an ATV, saved freezing lambs in the snow, been hit by a passing truck, nearly buried by a snowplow, trapped in snow avalanching off a barn and gotten lost in the woods. She is faithful, courageous, loving, hardy, determined.
I admire her and I love her more than I can say. In addition to helping me live my life, she has given me another gift. She has inspired my return to fiction, “Rose In A Storm,” making a number of dreams possible. She entered my life when I needed her, challenged me to be a better human by training her, and has never failed me. More than any other thing, she made me feel safe on the farm. More women ask me about Rose than any other dog, and she has a connection with women who work that is palpable, something that was very much reflected in the novel. It is not about her, but it would never have been written without her. So I need to say thanks, Rose.You are a remarkable spirit, and I wish I could pay you back a fraction of what you have given me.
I sat in an office yesterday and said goodbye to a woman who hard arguably saved my life, a social worker/therapist who took a falling human and helped him get his feet on the ground. Another October, another book tour, I told her. She said I didn’t really know how to say goodbye, and it was important that I not simply disappear. I said I wouldn’t. There was a lot of emotion in the room, but neither of us could really talk about it. I remembered his broken and terrified I was when I first came there. I told her I knew now why I had come to the farm. Maria. She nodded.
We agreed that the hard thing about having something you love is that you are afraid of losing it, leaving it behind. I know I am getting older, and I do think about that, but I also have learned to live one day at a day. This day is very good, and tomorrow is pretty promising as well. I am eager to get on the road to fight for my book “Rose In A Storm” as books need fighting for these days, they don’t just roll out to glory. I am happy to take that on. Maria and I will be bringing Izzy and some family farm notecards to sell to benefit family farmers, hard hit by many things.
Two years ago, when I went on book tour, I nearly broken down in several places around the country. I hope I never showed it, but I am in a very different place now. Happy, feeling strong and eager to get on with the next book. “Rose In A Storm” marks a big turning point for me in many ways. I guess I know something about storms.
I love watching Maria and the donkeys. Something special between them, something new. Love brings out things in people and animals, a kind of spirituality sometimes, a kind of communicating, a special language that only the participants really understand. Makes me hopeful, calm.
