Day: April 22, 2014

Fear is a lie,

a space to cross.

When fear dies,

crimson with shame,

and regret,

love comes to life,

the jewel in the eye,

begins to dance.

When fear dies,

life starts clapping.

Florence Walrath was the indomitable woman who lived in our farmhouse for decades and died there at the age of 102. She left us Rocky, the blind old pony, a fine house with a solid foundation, a house full of windows painted shot, some evocative old wallpaper, and a lot of flies upstairs. She also left us an ancient mower.

Florence was a legend around my town, she drove with failing eyesight and hearing until she crashed into police DIU checkpoint and pulled out her pistol permit instead of her license. They took her license away and so she got on her old orange mower and drove it to the pond where she swam every day until she was almost 100. When she crashed that into the barn one day, it was abandoned there, I asked the family if I could have it. My friend Ben Osterhaudt fixed it up and I have been mowing my lawn, it is the first time in my life I have mowed a lawn, I either lived in cities or we hired someone to tend to do it.

Circumstance is the mother of new experience and I ride the mower in honor of Florence and her spirit, I hope to age as well as she did. The mower needs a good bit of maintenance and it has many chokes and levers, I have finally figured out how to run it. I love mowing the lawn, I hope to be out there this weekend, the grass is beginning to pop up.

Our friend and neighbor Jack Macmillan, a wizard at all things machine, came by to pick it up and take it off for service and blade sharpening. He expects to have it back Wednesday. I am fond of this mower and will hand onto it as long as I can. I call it the U.S.S. Florence.

I ran into John and Diablo today walking in town. John pulls Diablo in a yellow wagon when he things the pavement is too warm for his feet, or if he thinks Diablo is getting tired. These two love each other very much.

The longer I live with animals, the more I appreciate them. Simon came to use in hideous condition, when people in New York City talk about the abuse of animals like horses, I sometimes wonder if they have ever seen a truly abused animal. I think not, or they would not toss the term about so lightly.

Simon is a generous and affectionate soul. Like most donkeys, he can be grumpy, especially around food and the sharing of treats. Many a sheep has been nosed aside around a grain bucket. Otherwise, he is loving, patient and accepting, as he was this afternoon when the gray hen hopped on his back and took a ride to the pasture, pausing occasionally to peck a tick or something off of his back, otherwise enjoying the trip. Glad I was there.

This year, Spring reveals itself slowly, and in a number of ways. One of the most reliable signs is Flo and her time spent on the porch chair, which we have never actually sat on. It belongs to the cats and the chickens now. Flo rules.