I had a dream last night about my ride on the Hindu in Provincetown. I remember the moment of sunset, when the sun dipped behind the clouds for the last time, and the sky seemed to explode like a burst of fireworks as the last night reflected off of the clouds out off of the ocean. Then when I woke up I came down to look at my photos and I saw that it was not a dream, it was what I saw that night, out on the water, moving quietly and peacefully through the natural world, free of interruptions and distractions. How nice when dreams are real.
Lulu and Fanny never get burrs stuck on their heads, Simon has burrs all over his forehead every morning. He is gentle and easygoing, he stands still while me or Maria pick through the burrs and pull them off of his head. This is Simon’s time, I think, on October 7 Random House will publish “Saving Simon,” my last Random House book, and a chronicle of Simon’s rescue by the State Police and his healing time at Bedlam Farm.
The book is the story of me and Simon, but it also chronicles how his arrival sparked a new understanding of compassion for me, from Simon’s healing to Red’s arrival to Simon’s awful confrontation with Rocky, our blind Appaloosa Pony. I learned that it’s much easier to feel compassion for people you like than people you don’t, and that compassion is not one thing but many things, some of them very difficult and surprising.
Connie Brooks of Battenkill Books has ordered 1,000 copies of the book, we hope to sell 2,000 in her wonderful bookstore, my local bookstore. I will sign each one of them and the first 2,000 people will get a signed photo postcard of Simon to go with their books. Battenkill takes Paypal and ships anywhere in the world. People who order from Battenkill will also have a chance to win potholders, free Fromm family food coupons, notecards and free books.
The book will come out one week before the Bedlam Farm Open House on Columbus Day weekend. People will get a chance to meet Simon, see Red herd sheep, check out the wonderful and affordable art in Maria’s studio (including her potholders, scarves, quilts and hanging pieces). I am excited to share my book reading on October 7 – at Battenkill – with George Forss, who will be on hand on October 7 to sign and talk about his new book “The Way We Were,” also available for pre-ordering at Battenkill Books. I am very proud to share this night with George, a genius and wonderful friend. George will also sign and personalize any books ordered through Battenkill. You can call the store at 518 677-2515 or e-mail Connie Brooks – [email protected].
Connie already has pre-orders for about 200 books, just 1,800 to go. We have until Christmas, and I imagine this to be a sweet Christmas gift to animal, horse and donkey lovers.
Simon is a testament to the real meaning of abuse, a term that is so overused it has lost it’s meaning. It is difficult for me to hear that the carriage horses of New York are “abused” when I think of Simon, starved, riddled with sores, twisted legs, rotted teeth, lice. He is a generous spirit, he has every reason to mistrust people but he is full of love and trust.
For the past five years, I’ve lived with an artist. I am her to tell you, it is a different kind of life, it is a dance that never ends. Sometimes it means finding odd rocks and flowers on the windowsill, it can mean seeing your wife shovel manure in her wedding dress, or dress in stylish gypsy form in five lawyers of scarves, skirts and thrift-shop blouses. When you wake up at 3 a.m. and your wife is gone, it usually means she is out in the pasture in her nightshirt and French boots, dancing in the moonlight or communing with donkeys or scribbling the words to a poem or fiber hanging piece.
This morning, I was taking a photo of the meadow and I looked up to see Maria waving a scarf around and dancing. Lenore and Red were astonished, they both sat down to stare at her and wonder what she was doing. What, I shouted, are you doing? Why, she said, surprised by the question, I’m dancing with my shadow.
Oh, I said, of course.
I have to say I love living with an artist, it suits me, no two days are ever the same, no two walks are ever the same. My artist has a wide emotional range. She might be crying one second, glaring the next, erupting, then chanting at the stars or taking photos of a stone. Artists are not consistent. They are not like other people, it is a different kind of life, I am lucky to experience it, it suits me, right to the soul. Maria says I am an artist, but I don’t think so, not really. Writers are different too.
