Month: October 2012

I often write on the blog when there is bad news out in the world, but I was a little uncomfortable writing about my small life and small issues on the farm when so many people are struggling, losing their homes, cars, workplaces. Then I remember that this is a part of my job, my work, to share these stories. There are so many places to get every last detail of the bad news, it is not necessary for me to try and add to it or amplify it. So, respecting the many losses people are experiencing,  I will resume my work, my stories. Joseph Campbell said the role of the artist and the writer is to bring people the light and color and emotional images of the world.

Every afternoon around 3 p.m., Rocky gets a scoop of grain with some  high-calorie supplement. Around 2:45, I let Red into the pasture and he usually finds Rocky and sits down next to him – especially good if there are sheep to keep an eye on. Around 3, Maria or I call Rocky to the barn, usually by calling his name out. He begins moving to the barn, sniffing Red out, touching him with his nose, and then Red walks to the barn and Rocky follows. Without Red, Rocky circles and sniffs and gets there, with Red he goes in a straight line. He has something to trust.

This is a good story to share on my blog today, one of the small miracles that lights up the world.

We brought Mother and Minnie to new farm almost a week ago. They were both in crates for three to four days, and then we released them. Mother stayed for a few days then vanished, and we haven’t seen hear.  Minnie has stayed in the barn, and hasn’t come out until this morning, when she emerged and Maria greeted her and then she came up onto the porch.

I do not believe Mother will return. She has, in my mind, either gone somewhere else to live or been taken by a predator. Minnie is settling in and will be our barn cat. I miss Mother, she was a great presence and spirit in our lives.

At the height of the storm, I saw raindrops framing Florence’s blue glass. It spoke of Sandy to me, in our house.

For many people, Sandy was a terrifying intrusion, a disruption, a moving mass of destruction even tragedy. For us, here in our new home, it was strangely beautiful, an affirmation, a homecoming. There was a lot of rain and howling wind, but no damage. In a curious way, the house became ours. We live in it now. The great work Ben has done for us was affirmed in many ways – the new slate roof did not leak, the Pole Barn was dry and secure, the chickens snug in their coop, Minnie in the barn.

We know these animals well and we know this place. Rocky was in his stall, the donkeys locked in the pole barn with the sheep (thanks to Todd Mason’s smart and useful pallets.).  Some branches blew onto Maria’s studio, but there was no damage, and her studio held up well also. After days of warnings and alarms – life and death is a profit center now as well as politics –  it seemed we were waking up a  new day, and we were.

Maria and I had a beautiful evening. We lit a fire in our fireplace, talked, read. I filled tubs and bathtubs with water, then cooked a dinner for us – apple chicken sausage, small blue potatoes, brussell sprouts. We have not had a TV for nearly a year, and we keep meaning to get one but this weekend convinced me not to get one and Maria agrees. I used the Ipad and cell to check in on the insanely-hysterical weather reports and that was more than enough. I was so grateful not to have a TV on in the background warning me all day that I might not make it through the week. I meditated instead, read a good mystery.

I am mindful that the day was not nearly so pleasant for so many people, and it hurts to think of all the suffering and disruption.

But I also have to be honest. Sandy was a gift to us. It was a homecoming, an affirmation of life in our new home, which is solid as a rock, dry and steadfast. I did want to do something creative yesterday so I made a movie which I will put up shortly: Sandy in Bedlam. Hope you are all well.

Sandy is announcing her arrival with some vigor, howling winds, driving rain. The animals are all tucked away. Minnie is in the barn, the donkeys and sheep in the Pole Barn, the chickens in their coop. The dogs are huddled around me, nervous.  The lights are flickering, so I will protect my computer and other equipment by turning it off. Will return when it is possible and I am recording a video of Sandy in Bedlam. I wish all of you a safe and peaceful night. Will see you when the lights come back on. Thanks for existing.