Carol Gulley posted on her Bejosh Farm Journal today, she wrote that she has decided to sell Bejosh Farm, her home with Ed Gulley for 45 years.

“…yeah, I know I go back and forth with this,”she wrote, “cows will most likely go the first week of March if plans stay on course. I am going to advertise equipment, house, barns and some of the land. I think it would be a good place for someone trying to get started in farming ( God only knows why anyone wants to ) or even using the barns for sheep, goats or something along those lines. The parlor could be modified for goat milking which is up and coming so I have read.”

Carol told me a couple of weeks ago that she was thinking of selling the farm, and moving down the road to a house she and Ed bought some years ago.

I am glad to hear it. I am grateful she is thinking about what is best for her, and her life. She seems better to me, grounded and able to look forward.

People have been upset with me, asking why I haven’t continue to write about Carol. There are several reasons.

The first is that Carol’s story is hers to tell, not mine. I wrote about Ed’s cancer and death because he asked me to, he wanted it to mean something, and Carol supported that wish. I don’t believe she would ever have asked me to write about it herself.

She is much more private and shy than Ed, and unsure of her writing If Carol wishes to continue writing her story on her blog, that is up to her, her story belongs to her, not me. She never signed up to be a public figure for the rest of her life. And I won’t steal her story.

Another is that my friendship was primarily with Ed, and Carol has old and close friends of her own. She is very devoted to her family, the farm world is her world.

She and I never clicked in the easy way Ed and I did. Perhaps that will change one day. I’m not sure she would have wanted me around if Ed hadn’t wanted me there.

I haven’t spoken with Carol or seen her much as she processes her very deep and powerful grief. I am always available to her, as she knows, but only if and when she asks. She hasn’t asked, and I will respect that.

I am getting together with her next week, and I hope to catch up.

But I want to say that Carol’s story is hers now, it no longer belongs to me, if it ever did.  She doesn’t need to share the rest of her life unless she decides to do it, and I don’t need to try to do it for her.

Carol is sorting out this enormous upheaval, I can only imagine how difficult her decision to sell the farm is. She is tough and smart, she will figure out what she wants to do.

I don’t know if she wishes to continue writing on her blog or not, that is also up to her. We both agreed the writing class was not good for her now, she just isn’t in the mood to write much. She is welcome back any time.

I got to thinking a lot about Ed this week, I do miss him, our laughing together, his wit and creativity and eagerness to learn and grow. I always thought he got me and appreciated me.  I miss that.

I thought of him when Maria told me the Ed Gulley bridge is broken and flooded over, and I see his wind chimes are beginning to come apart in the yard. Ed was very quick to laugh, and we shared a twisted sense of humor. We were always laughing with each other.

Ed never dd figure out how to make his creations strong enough to survive our weather. He would have figured it though, had he lived longer. He would have come roaring over during the snowstorm, hauling huge lumber over his shoulder, and set the bridge straight.

We will have to figure something else out. Ed always thought I was insane to hire people to work on the farm. He never hired anybody in his life, as far as I know.

I miss him giving his milk speeches to me and at our Open Houses, and I miss his love for me, and his friendship, and his hunger to create.

Friends like Ed do not grow on trees, and I accept I won’t have another like him. The best friends I had are gone, and I am not sure what to make of that. I am grateful to have had them.