We are preparing to move out of Bedlam Farm and into a New Bedlam Farm, a new chapter, once we tend to the minor business of selling the farm and buying the new place, which is not quite a farm but does have a barn and a fabulous studio for Maria. Details, details.

We are both into the idea of moving forward, and then turning it over to life, so we ordered a dumpster, now perhaps one of the more famous dumpsters around, and have begun tossing old junk and detritus into the dumpster and taking our clothes, books, and reusable things to libraries and charities. We will have another monster run at the Salvation Army Saturday, and the Cambridge, N.Y. Library is very happy and will be happier still.

I see my life passing before my eyes in many ways, the stuff going out testimony to the different phases of my past, and my life on the farm. Today, I washed out about a dozen old Scotch bottles from the days when I drank Glenlivet. I rarely drink anymore, and never scotch. We hauled out boxes of old bandages, syringes, calcified antibiotics and other dusty medical supplies from the days when lambs were born here, and when I had to administer lots of sheep first-aid in the middle of the night.

Memories of bloody tails, uterine infections, vitamin shoots, boosters, and bandages and medicines. Was that really me up there on that hill with Rose in sub-zero winters? There were a lot of extra boots, winter shirts and sweaters, gloves and hats. One of my many disorders is that if something isn’t in front of me, I lose any awareness that it exists. So I had a lot of duplicates of things.  When Maria moved onto the farm, we got rid of a ton of stuff – she loves to get rid of stuff and give it to people, being cheap, generous, and conscious of the planet. She also created open shelves so I could see my shirts and clothes and socks and sweaters. Wow, what a difference.

I am tossing old manuscripts and editor’s notes – I don’t see any Jon Katz Library in my literary future  or in the digital world – and dog bowls,brushes, tags and rancid treats. There are old signs, paintings, posters, photos to be sorted and dispersed. It is humbling, painful sometimes,sobering. I am grateful for my life now, and eager to have a life where I have very few things to throw out. Maria is a huge influence in this way – she is inspirationally simple and practical. It is catching. Still, tossing this stuff is emotional, it is, in some ways, like watching a movie of your own life, growth and change. I did not know who I was then. I did not like who I was then. So this is better. It’s a visualization in a way, the dumpster collecting remnants of the old life, as we begin the new one.