Day: July 15, 2013

Flo and the Leghorn, riding out the hot day together.

Maria and I have made a big decision, we have decided to rent Bedlam Farm out for a year or so until the real estate world here rights itself a bit. The farm has been on the market for a year-and-a-half, and lots of people have seen it, but everyone seems to have their own issue – too many barns, not enough farmable land, no two-car garage, one didn’t like the wallpaper in the downstairs hallway. Lots of people have loved it too, but they also had their reasons – weren’t sure about moving, couldn’t get a mortgage, etc.

We are comfortable with this decision to rent, we would be very happy if some good people wanted to live in this beautiful place, sit on the screened-in porch, walk up the hill, hike with their dogs on the mile-long path into the woods. It would certainly ease the financial strain of two farms, but as importantly, we want to see people living there who love it. I hate seeing it empty, those barns should be used.

We would be happy to see some dogs there and some animals in the pasture also, if that was part of the experiment. I wrote seven books there, and I know it is a wonderfully creative place for someone who wanted to write or paint. The barns are great for animals, but they would also make wonderful studios, two have water, one has heat and water. Great for offices, visitors or a family member also.

The biggest issue for us is to find good and responsible people who would care for the farm and be responsible living there, we have worked so hard to fix it up and maintain it. I would be very happy if someone who read the blog and/or my books or who followed Maria’s work wanted to rent it, that would be a connection that would mean much to us. Kristin Preble, the realtor asked if we would be comfortable if people brought animals, and the answer is yes, we would, animals should be there. The farm is dog heaven, there are secure fences/kennels all around the house, they held Frieda and goats, they would hold just about anything.

I don’t want to be selling it here, not my job or skill but I wanted to alert people who read the blog first, before Kristin starts taking ads out next week. And you all have followed this saga, so you have a right to know. I have a feeling it is a hard place to sell right now, but not so hard to rent to the right people. A year there would be a valuable and remarkable experience and wonderful, I think, for anyone who is considering a change in life and wants to make sure. Or who just wants to take a breather, write a book, consider a meaningful life in a beautiful and peaceful place. It would surely make a wonderful second home, a weekend retreat.

If anyone is interested, please don’t contact me or Maria, you can call Kristin Preble directly at 518 854-7888. She and Maria and I will meet with anyone who is serious and we will all want to be comfortable about it. Bedlam Farm is a trust, and I will honor that.

Today, ever inspired by E.B. White (“One Man’s Meat”), who got himself to a Maine farm later in life, I’m starting a new column, I’m shooting for Monday’s but more frequently if the subject stirs me. In homage to White, an author and New Yorker essayist, I’m calling it “One Man’s Trail” because my trail led me here and my writing is about the tracks I have left and which have been left on me.

In my lifetime I have lived in Providence, R.I., Boston, New York City, Cambridge, Mass.,  Baltimore, Dallas, Montclair, N.J., Washington, D.C., West Hebron, N.Y., and now, Jackson Township, just outside of Cambridge, N.Y. and, for a few sweet weeks, London, England, and Berlin, Germany.  For more of my six decades I have lived in cities and suburbs. Of these places I loved New York City, Cambridge, Mass., and Boston the most. I disliked Washington and the New Jersey suburbs the most. Not how I was meant to live.

I have been living in rural life for nearly 15 years now, living on farms here full-time since 2003. Rural life has transformed my life, my work, my love. It has brought me to a life with animals, placed me in the center of a culture which seems, on the surface, quite different from me, but which is, on reflection very much where I belong. I have felt at home here ever since I arrived, more so every day. There is so much life her, joy and sorrow, struggle and purpose, you can get close to all of it. The column will be stories from rural life, my own perspective and observations.

When I sat down to write this column, I lit a candle, meditated, closed my eyes and waited to see what came into my head. Good writing is interior, authentic, honest.

These things did:

_ Brushing the donkeys every morning, feeling their soft noses on my hands, their bodies leaning into me.

_Asking Red to move the sheep, waiting for the sound of their hooves.

_Standing and talking to my friend Jack Macmillan, both of us in the position, arms folded, feet planted wide, roots coming out of our butt, hot air coming out of our mouths, Jacks’ hands pinwheeling for exclamation, he knows every person, road and story in the county and will tell a few if pressed.

_Listening to my farmer friends complain that it is too hot, too cold, too wet, too dry. And the strange thing is, they are always right.

_Walking on trails in the woods with Maria, the dogs, seeing the canopy shift in the wind, watching the sun poke through, seeing the dog’s ruffs come up when they come across bear tracks.

When I think of my rural life, I think the biggest thing is that I feel known here. When I walk into the Round House Cafe, Alliyah or Nicole start working on my sandwich before I get in the door, and they remind me to get Maria something sweet for dessert, as I always do.

Rural life is the place of lost values, you will never see a thing about in on what they call the “news,” it has been abandoned, forgotten in the new global economy, all the more important to write about it.  Here, timeless values live – the meaning of a neighbor, the joy of good gossip,  strong men and women who know how the world works and don’t need to call people to keep their worlds going. Kids walking home from the school bus, kids who look you in the eye shake your hand and ask how you are, sir.

I think of Russell in the hardware store who refused to sell me an axe without talking to Maria first. “Does she know you’re buying this?,” he asked me, “have her call me.”  I think of the many times I have forgotten to bring my wallet or credit card, and how the response is always the same: “We know where you live. Bring it by when you can.”

I think of my neighbor who went and brushhogged Bedlam Farm because it was getting overgrown and he wanted it to look good when it was shown. I think of all the trucks that stopped when pigs were running in the road, and all the neighbors who came running when my sheep broke out.

I think of all the farmers who let me into their barns with my camera, none of them ever asking why, and how they open up their difficult lives to me. And how it breaks my hear to see this stubborn and proud people struggle so hard, every card in the world stacked against them like the Wall Of China.  I think of the electrician who sent me a big bill after we moved into the new house, more than I thought and he told me to take my time paying for it. I think of all the hard-working men and women hanging onto their rural lives while the government and the economists take away their jobs and build a new economic system that has forgotten what people are for. I think of the courteous and conscientious hunters who love the land and won’t shoot a deer if they think it is unfair.

I think of all the  young men and women who go off to war and leave their aching and worried families behind. You meet them up here, not much in Montclair, N.J.. I think of a way of life that is vanishing but is still so strong, filled with values, connection, a sense of place and belonging. I think of all the dogs who live out their lives running in fields, fighting with porcupines, lives without leashes or boundaries.

It seems so right that I met Maria up here, she was what  you were looking for all the time, said the shrink, and I think of her exclaiming over butterflies, saving moths, walking barefoot through the pasture, loving her donkeys, her pagan spirit alive around nature. She is a fairy, an elf, an angel, free her to spin her magic.

Mother Earth is our friend and partner her, our soulmate in rural life, the reason so many of us come, stay, why so many can’t leave. It is the most precious gift to look at beautiful things, to see the storm clouds coming, to love the light on the hills, to hear the streams and rivers, listen at night to  the coyotes chilling cries. I love the farrier, the shearer, the people living their full lives on the edge without health insurance, IRA’s, happy and strong. I am happy to be writing “One Man’s Trail.” It is ready to come out. Every Monday.

Monday morning and Red is at the office, hard at work. I grumble a lot about unsolicited advice but I got some good advice yesterday when I wrote about Red’s becoming a therapy dog and my uncertainty about which kind of therapy work I want to do with him. I mentioned that I was considering working with vets at a local VA Hospital and in therapy groups and I got a lot of wonderful feedback about that from people, many of whom have sons and daughters who are returning from our wars with a lot of needs and problems. I think some of those people would relate to Red on many levels, and I thought he would connect with them. He is an empath, he reads emotions well.

I know many young vets, home from Iraq and Afghanistan to a country that loves to go to war but is quick to forget the people they send to fight them and many are struggling with adjustment issues, from PTSD to depression. I’ve suffered from both of those things in my own private wars and I can hardly imagine what they are going through after years of combat in wars that seemingly can’t be won. I think it would be a good focus for Red once he completes his therapy certification process next week. I hope to write about these vets we meet and photograph them, if they agree and give permission, as I did with Izzy in hospice. Maybe put up a special page to write about them and keep the photos.

I was touched by the many messages of encouragement I got from many of you, the advice didn’t seem inappropriate at all, but heartfelt and touching. Many were from mothers and fathers struggling to figure out how to help their scarred sons and daughters.  It clarified my thinking about Red and the place he is taking me. It is my wish to live in a world that doesn’t send our kids off to suffer and die for the ambitions of angry old men sitting at desks far away. I think it is true that if the old men had to go, there would be no wars.  If I may not get to see such a world, perhaps I can help ease the suffering of these people a bit and bring them to an animal who seems brighten the spirits of human beings.

The first Pink Dahlia sprouted this morning in my Dahlia garden and I love these exotic, sensual, rich flowers, they thrive in this hot and sticky weather, they inspire me to do the same.

Some notes this morning from Bedlam Farm:

-This coming Sunday, July 21,  is the first open house at Bedlam Farm, noon to 4 p.m., details on Maria’s website. You can see the farm, meet some donkeys, see Red herd sheep. I’ll be doing several short demonstrations (it will be warm, but not hot on Sunday, according to the forecasts, much better) and you can see Maria’s studio, buy some art from her and other artists, and even choose vintage hankies and see your own scarf made if you’d like. We can’t offer access to the farmhouse or food and drink, but those will be readily available right nearby at Momma’s restaurant and the Round House Cafe in nearby Cambridge, N.Y. No dogs please. Hope to see some of you there, and we will do it again on September 1.

In the next week or so, bedlamfarm.com will offer a special version for smartphone users, the site will automatically re-form itself for easier viewing and thumb navigation.

-I thank you, as I do every Monday, those of you who have joined the new subscription program for bedlamfarm.com. A few years ago, my books were the only writing I did, now books are one of the things I do, and the blog is the major thing that I do.  I am also doing e-books, podcasts, open groups. The blog is becoming the book, as I suspected, the centerpiece of my creative work. I have stopped calling these payments donations and contributions – I don’t care to be a charity or noble cause – and am simply getting paid for my work, a joy and an affirmation. It took me awhile to figure out that I am no different than anybody else, celebrity or not, and I like it.

You can subscribe for $5 a month, or $60 a year, or access the blog for free if you can’t afford to do that or don’t wish to. I will always find a way to offer free access to the blog for those under pressure.  I’ve dropped one time contributions, feels like a charity pitch to me.  I’ve only had one person squawk, somebody who complained on Facebook that there are plenty of free blogs and she doubted I needed to be paid for my work, I can always give speeches. I had the great pleasure of asking her to go enjoy her free sites, which she has done.

This is the future for writers like me, and it is here. I embrace it. This is one of the healthiest and most comfortable things I’ve done in awhile, it encourages me to work harder on the writing and photography in the blog, which I will continue to do. Information on subscriptions here.

-I am working on a very inexpensive e-book collection of my photographs, “Love And Light From Bedlam Farm,” a way to get the photographs you like without having to buy an expensive table book. Coming out this summer.  I’ll keep you posted.