“Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.”
Mary Oliver
Shirley Graham Du Bois says that all forms of madness, bizarre habits, awkwardness in society, general clumsiness, are justified in the person who creates good art.
I appreciate the thought, I thought she was talking to me, I have experienced madness, I have many bizarre habits, I have always been awkward in society, I am generally clumsy, and from what I can see, none of these traits and habits have been seen as justified by society at large.
My teachers scolded me, my bosses wanted to strangle me, my father insisted bleakly that I had potential, I cannot tolerate dinner parties, small talk, art shows, literary gatherings, awards or ribbons, self-congratulations, I have never figured out the rituals of friendship, family and socializing that other people seem to know.
I am difficult and quirky, and have always been difficult. Perhaps that, more than anything, has inspired my art.
I cannot justify any of these things in the name of art, being an artist does not entitle me to anything other people don’t have, or make me one bit better than them. I don’t make excuses for myself, or ask anyone else to excuse me for anything I do.
Being a Dyslexic explains some of these things, but doesn’t justify any of them. I don’t have the answers, but I do have the questions.
I like Anton Chekhov’s idea the best, the role of the artist is to ask questions, not answer them. Or Joseph Campbell’s idea: the role of the artist is to bring color and light to the sometimes discouraged people of the world.
The thing is, being an artist and a writer is just what I am, I never really had a choice, I am just listening to the whispers of the heart, and I have learned to like myself enough so that I no longer really care what other people think of me.
And let’s face it, what else could I possibly do?
The garden speaks to me, the colors is radiant and spiritual, I think the flowers are all angels that sing out to me.
Maria and I both love gardens, but we take care of them in different ways. I don’t really understand gardener – where to plant things, what a weed is, but I love having them and feast off their color.
She is the Planter and Designer of our gardens, she decides where they shall go, she digs the holes and crawls around on her knees, which is sometimes hard for me.
I can’t do that any longer, at least not for too long. She calls me the Waterer.
Every morning, and often in the evening, I turn on the long garden house and I nourish the gardens, I give them water, I keep them cool on very hot days like today.
The farmers here all know what our political leaders are too ignorant to know, that the climate is changing, and the earth is warming, and the sun is stronger, and the soil is drier and drier.
The grass used to turn brown in August, it is turning brown now, just as it did last year in July.
We can look a way and hide and turn to greed as much as we want, but our gardens need water more than ever, and we are grateful that so far, there is a lot of water here, although many local wells are suddenly going dry.
This morning, I went outside before the sun got too strong – days like this don’t mesh well with some of the medications I take for my heart. After I watered the back porch (and then the herb mound, and then the Three Sisters Garden) I felt refreshed, and so, I hope did our flowers.
I like being the Waterer, the Nourisher, and Maria loves crawling around barefoot in the dirt. Our gardens have never looked more beautiful, and they are a reflection of our love and connection for one another. We both care for them in our own way.
On Monday mornings, Maria wakes up thinking about her increasingly popular Monday morning video, “Good Monday Morning From Bedlam Farm.” Her videos are sweet and gentle invitations to the way we start the week, usually doing the morning chores with the dogs, donkeys and sheep.
As always, she brings her own artistic style and vision to the videos, which attract large numbers of followers. As a visual artist, it was perhaps inevitable that she would turn her creativity towards her videos, her artistic films of the farm at the start of the week.
After she records the video, she comes to her studio, the Ed Gulley bench on the back porch and edits her film and then puts it up on her blog. She also, you may notice, has stolen one of my hats, now joining the substantial collection of my clothing she has “borrowed” to wear or use in some of her fiber works.
For all of its headaches, new technologies have awakened creative people to all kinds of new possibilities. Just a few years ago, it was unthinkable to take a high-quality video with a cell phone that doesn’t need a plug and then edit the video and post it online while sitting on your porch.
It’s hard for me to take that for granted.
Fate is usually impervious to weather, she runs and runs in cold, rain, sleet and heat. We are in another “heat advisory,” another day of warnings for people like me – older men with heart disease, etc. I am warned to stay indoors, drink lots of liquids, do little or no work.
(I wish someone would ban warnings. I’ll drink some liquids. Life doesn’t stop for me when it gets hot and humid.)
I knew it was going to be a hot day when Fate came in from the pasture, she was running in circles around the sheep, and just lay down on the grass with her tongue out. It takes a lot of heat to wear Fate out.
