Gate To Old Farmhouse

Getting centered.

The Center

Saw the tractor on the edge of the  plowed field, ready. I always look for phone lines to put in my photo, they framed the subjects, they invoke the old and the new. I call my photographic style emotional realism.

In The Center

Do you ever lose your center, thrown off balance by a story on the news?  By an angry message? By a bill you hoped would never come? By a family member you can't really connect with? By work you don't love? By something that breaks? It happens to me often, as it happens to you. I got off center early this evening, I could feel it, right as some big thunderstorms raced through the area, after I heard another story about the children in Oklahoma, I'm not sure what it was, maybe it was removing Ma's bloody bandages.  Or my hour-long interview for a documentary on animal grieving (a good interview.) Maria was not home, and I just felt off center.

Our lives are distracted and sometimes tense, life occurs again and again, it is my challenge and my work to find my center and return to it. I lost it all the time, I think everyone does. The spiritual life for me is finding it, again and again.

So I did this: I took Red and Frieda and Lenore and packed all of us in the car, I decided to drive until we saw something beautiful, and then I would take a photo of it and I would walk the dogs there. I didn't have far to go, and I took my weekly shot of the corn field growing down the road, I love the lines. The rain had just stopped, the sun had just broken through, the mist was on the hills, the shadows on the cornfields. I took this shot and then walked the dogs in silence. Then I came home and went out into the garden by the bird bath and I did Tai Chi for ten minutes, aware as I moved of the leaves in the trees, the birds in the air, the geese in the field, the deer in the outer pasture, she sheep and donkeys grazing below me. Red lay down next to me, and if the donkeys were my spirit guides in the morning, Red took the job in the afternoon.

Then I made dinner and sat on the porch and listened to some music – Laura Mvula, I loved it, and I went out to check on Ma and the donkeys and close up the chicken coop. I offer this photograph to share my love of the light and the lines. I got myself back.

In The Mud Pond

Lenore knows how to live and be comfortable. When it's hot she finds the muddiest pond and just goes and sits down and looks curious as to why nobody else has jumped in.

Windowsill Gallery

I wrote on the blog the other day that I loved irises and would love one in my study, and the next day they appeared on my windowsill. Life with an artist is a beautiful experience.

Life Happens

My goal is to live every day fully but Tuesday was as full a day as I can remember in recent times. It began gently, with my writing an Iris-inspired vagina monologue, it just came out. Then a discussion about a photograph of dogs outside of a hardware store touched off an intense discussion about safety, freedom, sensitivity and righteousness that drew hundreds of responses on Facebook. Cranked up from that,  I went for my  Tai Chi lesson, a change of pace for sure.

Then we voted in a local school board election, did some shopping, and then came home to find Ma struggling, unable to walk, and an hour later the vet was hear and we were cleaning out infected wounds for a couple of hours. A day filled with life, we collapsed around nine p.m. and spent the night listening to a Thunderstorm symphony, driving rains, lightning booming and banging. I had a midnight inspection visit to the barn to see how the donkeys and Ma and the sheep were doing. We all stood staring out at the downpour.

Of these things, the hardware photo bears some thought. I get lots of e-mails that I don't care for, and I rarely write about them. This one suggested that my photo of three dogs in a car outside of a local hardware store was both irresponsible and "dangerous" in that it seemed to sanctioned dogs riding in cars and we were coming into mild and warm weather, and I should not run such photos and if I did, link to websites cautioning people on the dangers of pets in overheated cars.

I don't like to challenge people who e-mail me. I know that people who send nasty letters are outraged and stunned when they are called on it, and I don't want to spend my time in life arguing with people. And since I am generally in a more powerful position than people writing nasty e-mails, it feels like bullying  to go after them. Sometimes, though, issues are raised that are important to discuss. I am responsible for the words I write, so are the people who write to me. And the responses – one of the most intense responses I have seen on this blog – affirmed my decision. People wanted to talk about it. Why? For the same reason I wanted to write about it.

Animal safety is important, animal abuse is bad. I doubt there is anyone reading this who would dispute that. But it is very easy to lose perspective when you think you are doing righteous work, it is simple to become angry with people and to tell them what to do. This strain in the animal culture has grown. When a neat photograph of three happy and healthy dogs waiting for their owner outside a hardware store on an early Spring morning (I remember there was a frost that morning) becomes "dangerous" and should not be taken or published, then we have gone beyond issues of animal safety and into the real of freedom, free expression, perspective and proportion.

Our culture has become infected with fear, anger and judgment. That is why I wrote about, that is why there were hundreds of responses in a minute. We all know there are some people who mistreat animals and are neglectful and callous about their care. This is part of our life in the world, this is part of life happening. It cannot mean that every photo taken must be seen through this narrow and disturbing prism. That is just the pressure to censor in a different context. If the government tried it, people would be shrieking.

Anita, the woman who e-mailed me wrote back and said she was just trying to keep animals safe. I appreciate that, I am sure it is true. But I told her she had lost perspective, and that does not keep dogs safe. Animal safey is one issue in the world, it is not the only one. It does not serve the interests of animals when people come to associate animal welfare and animal rights with stridence, arrogance and self-righteousness. I hear so many people dismiss the very legitimate issue of animal rights because they are weary of the obnoxious rigidity and unthinking hostility of people who say they love animals, but seem to see that as a reason for mistreating, even hating, humans.

It does not do those three loving and healthy animals in the photo any good. As it is, they are quite happy and well-cared for.

I loved Tuesday, it was so full of life, a rich mix between ideas, spirituality, and the care of animals,  another day Maria and I came through with the very loving feeling of having done some important things together and in a loving and supportive way. I could use a quieter day but a documentary crew is on the way to interview me about animal grieving, and I have to give more shots to Ma. So maybe this won't be the day. Thanks for all the interesting comments yesterday, I am loving the blog more than ever and we are working to figure out how to really communicate in this very new kind of community.

Sharing A Moment

I want to share a wonderful experience I had this morning. Yesterday, I began a program of Tai Chi as part of my daily spiritual practice, I began receiving instruction from an experienced and committed teacher, Scott Carrino. This morning, I went out into the pasture by the apple tree to practice Tao Chi for the first time on my farm, after meditating. I stood by the tree, took up the stance I had been taught and opened my eyes to the movement all around me, the birds, the trees, the water in the stream, and I began the two movements I was taught yesterday. The morning was warm, there was a strong and refreshing breeze, the sheep were under the tree in front of me. As I began my movements, I felt some pressure at my back. Simon had come up behind me and pressed his forehead against my  back, as if to offer support, to steady me. Lulu and Fanny came up to me from the front, Fanny pressed her head into my stomach, Lulu came up on my left and stood alongside of me.

I was surprised, touched. Donkeys are the most spiritual of creatures, and the most intuitive, but they have never done this to me before in this way. If was as if they knew what I was doing, had joined into the spirit of the Tai Chi, an old Chinese form of movement meditation and martial arts. I stood there for a few moments and moved my arms in two circles, as I taught, slowly and easily. I was aware of the wind on my face, of the leaves in the apple tree moving, of the water rushing in the stream, of the frogs in the swamp, the sheep gathering in front me, but mostly I felt as if the donkeys and I had joined together in this meditation, connecting the human and animal spirits, reconnecting me to the natural world, centering me and bringing to me the greatest sense of calm and peace and hope and goodwill. I saw clearly that my life is wonderful, peaceful and that life is precious and affirming. The donkeys were absolutely still, they were speaking to me in the most tangible of ways, they had opened themselves up to me.

I turned and rubbed Simon's nose, then scratched Lulu and Fanny alongside their heads and then I resumed my Tai Chi movements. None of them moved. They seemed so peaceful, they were leading me to a peaceful place. This is so wonderful, I felt a physical sensation of opening up, of the greatest connection, of the most powerful support. It seemed, in a way, they were the teachers, they knew how to lead me.

The donkeys and I stood like this for more than 10 minutes, and I shouted to Maria to come and see, she was in her Studio Barn. How sweet, I said, what a wonderful thing to have happened to me. This was one of the most spiritual moments I have ever experienced, and the donkeys and I will continue this meditation this afternoon and the tomorrow and every morning I am at the farm. I have never felt closer to the world around me, to Mother Earth, nor have I felt a stronger connection between my own soul and the moving life around me. All of the clutter of my life and the world around me melted away and I was one with these ancient creatures, sharing my meditation with them. Neither of them moved until I was finished, and I knew I had been supported and communicated with through these spirit creatures, these magical helpers on the here journey. I wanted to share this with you.

Ma Healing

Sheep people and large animal vets have all heard the saying, "Sick Sheep Suddenly Die." When sheep get sick, they often, not always, die and usually it's suddenly. I hope we have avoided that outcome this time. We called the vet in time, before her infections from Red's bites spread. This morning, we pulled the gauze fillings out of her three wounds, gave her one pain-killer shot and one penicillin – big needles, deep injections to the muscle. She was good and stood still. She is eating well, moving around, and the wounds seem to have drained. We're putting spray on to keep flies off. She already looks better, and I think we are at the healing time, when her body is strong enough to heal. She's out with the other sheep and moving well.

Farm people are always ambivalent about calling large animal vets, they are expensive and one is never sure if you need to call or not. With wounds like bites, I think it is always good to call, because if something is wrong, it is very difficult to make it right. I think we got this in time, and I hope that is true. Red was only doing his job, but I do not like the idea of a sheep dying because of one of my dogs, it happens, and it's life, but I don't like the idea. Sick Sheep Sometimes Live.

Gallery Opening

An innovative and exciting new art gallery is opening this Saturday in Pawlet, Vt. I had decided to forego selling or showing my photographs but Gregory Deluca persuaded me to print up a half-dozen and sell them inexpensively. He is a huge fan of Maria's work is showing and selling some potholders and some pillows. We are going there Saturday from 1 to 3 p.m. for the gallery opening, it's in a beautiful spot outside of Pawlet near Manchester and Dorset, Vt., a great day for taking a Spring ride in the country. Red has also been invited.

Photography has changed with the advent of digital imaging, there are millions of good photographers now but some images are special, wherever they come from. Greg, a former gallery director at the Southern Vermont Arts Center,  has chosen photos of Lenore, Ma, some windowsill art, the chickens on the rocking chair and a barn shot or two. Good choices. He agrees with my notion of my photography as being about emotional realism. There is a lot of emotion in the images, but they come from real life, sometimes gritty real life. He is selling six of my photos for $65, a good price I think. You can also order photos on the phone or soon, online. So stop by if you are around and help us celebrate the opening of this gallery. Greg has gathered more than 30 of the best artists in the region and the gallery is different and exciting. You can check out Maria's stuff on her website.

Ma Under The Knife

Wow, this evening was one of the most intense Maria and I have had together. Dr. Jen Marsh of the Granville Large Animal Service came and we worked on Ma for several hours. It was bloody, exhausting and difficult work. Red's bites pulled some of Ma's skin away from the body and all three wounds – they were not deep, fortunately – had developed pus-filled pockets, not unlike human blood blisters. Jen said she got there just in time, and it was fortunate that Ma was shorn yesterday so that we could find the wounds shave them, open them and scrap the pus and infected tissue out bit by bit.  These wounds can get uglyu in a hurry. She said it was good we called her when we did.

We sedated Ma, but she is strong and big and she fought us every step of the way. She bucked and banged into us, and I had to hold her head straight up in the air to keep her still.  Maria held her head some of the time, and then I took it over. It was like wrestling a bear and I will not be walking upright for a few days. I wanted to get more photos, but couldn't let go.

It was painful for Ma, difficult for Jen. She had to open each wound, get inside the sacs, clean them out with scrapers, stuff each wound with anti-biotic soaked gauze. Ma got four kinds of shots and we will be giving her pain-killers and penicillin twice a day for at least a week. We also have to pull the gauze out of her wounds tomorrow. Red pulled the outer skin out, and the wounds began to heal before they have drained, were starting to get infected, so we also have to squirt saline solution into the wounds to keep them open and draining.  The good news was that Ma did not have a fever, so the infection probably had not gone deep. The bite wounds were not deep either, another break.

I went back over my video and I saw what happened clearly – Red was close to the sheep, he had been working a lot that day and was excited. I should have slowed him back, he is very strong around the sheep. Ma charged at him, then veered suddenly off and he ran after her and tried to grab her wool but couldn't get a purchase as she had just been shorn, so he grabbed at her side and stomach.

Jen did a great job and Maria and I were both just dazed and sore and covered in feces and dirt. Jen said she wasn't sure if Ma would survive-she said it will take a long time to heal. I thought she looked much better tonight, she was moving around and eating. We have some  hard work with her, but I feel optimistic about it. Ma was living in a tiny space and hadn't been shorn in years, she has had a rough time, she is happy here and we are fond of her. I brought Red out to the barn and he sat next to the sheep while Jen worked on Ma and she said he was extraordinarily calm and businesslike.I do not fault him a bit for what happened, but I have to say it upset me, perhaps more than I might have expected. I'm not sure why. As I wrote this morning, life happens, every single day. It's how we deal with it that matters. And I have learned some things from this. I am wrecked, going to sleep. Yet one more chapter in the real world of real animals. Sounds like a book to me.

Florence's Iris

Florence's Irises came up this week, I thought they looked old and worn out, but Maria insisted on keeping them, and I'm glad she did. Our flowers and Florence's are beginning to ring the farmhouse with some color. It is my job as an artist to remind people of the light and color in the world, they are so often told the world is a dangerous and dark place.

Tai Chi

I had my first Tai Chi lesson with my instructor, Scott Carrino. I enjoyed it. I learned two beginning movements and we are taking it one step at a time – Scott has figured out already how I absorb information. I really liked the lesson, I've done Tai Chi lessons once or twice before, but I don't think I was ready. I am now. Scott showed me how to move comfortably, we talked about connecting the body, the heart and the ground, to be aware of the constant movement around me. I'm going to start this afternoon or tomorrow, I have a spot I love out in the pasture, I imagine I will be doing Tai Chi with donkeys, they are curious and meditative and spiritual. I was almost instantly at ease with Scott, he is a gentleman and a passionate believer in Tai Chi. I think it will be good for me, perhaps the next chapter in my work to get easy with life, my mind and body and the world around me. It was interesting to go to my lesson fresh from a full-blooded Internet brawl about one of my photographs. Good training I suspect.

Flo

Flo has become a shameless flirt. The cat that hid under the porch through much of the winter now struts around the farm like the Queen Mum and she keeps a close eye on me, often jumping into my lap if I'm sitting down. She loves to be held and scratched. She's got my number.

Troubling Thing

Ma, the ewe that Red bit and injured yesterday, looks to be in trouble. She seemed fine this morning, but is off in a corner and lying down. She is not herself. This is troubling to me. I understand completely that these things happen, Red was just doing his job, but I have never had a sheep suffer a serious injury from a dog before, and I know from experience that sick sheep do not often recover. Made an emergency call to the vet, which I probably should have done yesterday but sheep heal quickly from scratches, even  bites and this one just did not appear to be serious. Seen quite a few like it.  I appreciate the good people worried that I will be angry at Red or blame him, but you don't have to worry about that.

I never blame animals for  being animals, I understand that he was just trying to grip some wool after she challenged him. I write often about the real world of real animals, but this one is disturbing to me, I am fond of Ma, she is a big, dumb, genial sheep. We locked her in the pole barn and closed the gates but of course Zelda somehow got the gate open and was trying to get Ma out. Ma wasn't moving. Vet is on the way. Life happens, just about every day.

The Dark Side Of Animal Love

I took this photo at the hardware store a few weeks ago, and I love it. Happy, healthy, much loved dogs waiting for their humans at the animal store. Many people loved it, many people shared it, as I did. It speaks to me of affection and loyalty, two of the things most of us love about dogs. This morning, I got several messages from the animal world that shows how we can take love and twist it into darkness, warning, anger and fear – benchmarks of our phobic and increasingly self-righteous world.

Anita wrote that she wanted to share her concerns over my "dangerous" message in the photo, especially given the nationwide reach of my blog. She offered me a lecture on how leaving dogs and cats in cars can be dangerous on warm days, and lethal to them. The two large dogs were getting air, she observed, but what about the little guy? This photo endorsed a dangerous and even illegal practice, she said. She offered me a link to a website that offers information on the dangers of pets in cars, and she hoped I would link to it to to undo the damage the message in my photo sent. I would be quite surprised if there are people reading my blog who don't know cars can get hot in the summer, but if there are any of you, I've attached the link.

There are many strains and streaks in the animal world I love, some I do not. One I truly do not is the part of the culture that thinks loving animals gives them the right to write messages like that, and in that suffocating tone, and to believe it makes them somehow morally superior. Doesn't work with me.

I did write back to her, and I said that my photo had no message, other than to evoke the love and loyalty dogs have for people. I see these dogs quite often in the hardware store lot, they are lucky and happy and healthy dogs. Not to mention the fact it was near freezing that day and the dogs were warmer than I was. Red was in the car right next to them, as he often is.

I told Anita I don't need lectures or websites to tell me when it's too hot for my dogs to be in cars, although I am sure there are some people who do. I told her I don't tell other people how to live with their dogs, perhaps one reason the blog does have a nationwide following. I have always had trouble with self-righteousness, the need people have to tell other people how to live, it is as epidemic in the animal world as in the political world (there is only one way to get a dog). It is obnoxious to me, as is the blizzard of warnings, alarms, cautions and doomsday warnings about life, health, politics and surely, animals. I suggested to Anita that if she loves warnings and lectures, this may not be the blog for her. There are so many others that will keep her engaged, alarmed and pleased with herself.

I love the message of the dogs at the hardware store. It speaks only of love, and the sad thing is to pollute that message the faux morality of the times. God, please help me to not tell other people what to do. It is the black plague of the mind. I'm very happy to run this photo again, and perhaps a few more times in the future. You are all, of course, free to take any message you want from this photo. I might put it up on Facebook and ask you to post your own sense of the message. I'm on the way.

Vaginal Flowers

I was happy to see Florence's irises unfold in one of our gardens yesterday and I was out there early to catch them in the morning sun. Irises got me thinking and feeling.  I was looking at George O'Keefe's paintings recently – she loved to paint the Iris – and I remember reading her comments about them. She thought they were the most sensuous of all flowers, she said she was shocked by their sensuality, their mouths opening like the libia, O'Keefe wrote that they were the vaginal flower. I read a few months ago about a Midwestern legislator who was banned from the state assembly for a few days for mentioning "vagina" in a debate about health care. The men in the chamber were shocked and horrified. If you want to see a grown man fold and run, just come up to him and whisper "vagina" in his ear, and he will shriek like a frightened piglet and head for the door.

Vaginas are  not something much written about in our tense and conflicted culture and this, I think, is because our society is still most controlled by men, for whom the very thought of the vagina would be frightening and disturbing.  The vagina is all about intimacy and most men dread intimacy. I wanted to speak up in defense of the vagina, and add my voice to those discriminating people who appreciate its sensuality and special beauty. I love vaginas and am sorry it took me so long to write about them. For some years, they were missing in my life, and I am eternally grateful that is no longer the case. I hope to never be far from a vagina again in my time on this earth, they are the sweet part of life's garden, the symbol of the loving body.

Men would do much better in their own lives and on behalf of the world if they didn't ban vaginas from public discourse, but embraced their wonder and spirituality.  Rather than ban vaginas from public life, they ought to be on billboards reminding us what life is really about. When you think about it, the vagina is the purest and most delicate manifestation life and love, it is a portal to sensitivity and to the art of the human consciousness.

I wonder if Florence thought of them that way – she planted them all around her house. I bet she did, even if she didn't mention it. I doubt Maria will pick the Irises, they are too fragile, they just collapse and wilt. But I hope she does. I can't imagine anything sweeter or more beautiful or inspiring than seeing an Iris – the vaginal flower – right next to the computer where I work.

So once again, I'm grateful to Florence for inspiring, however indirectly, my own vagina monologue.

Sheep Bite

Being dishonest was once a habit, and now being authentic is becoming a habit, and I like it better. Another chapter from the story of the real world of real animals yesterday. After shearing, I sent Red out to move the shorn sheep and Ma, the sheep on the right above, veered off and away from him, and he broke out of his outrun to go after her. Border collies will often grab wool to control a sheep – Red does it rarely – and this time there was no wool so he grabbed her shoulder and the underside of her belly. When we looked, we saw she was bleeding and the skin on the belly wound was hanging down in a flap. We put antibiotics on the wound, wrapped it in gauze and locked her up for the night in the barn stall with another ewe for company.

Zelda spent the night trying to break open the gate and get her out. My first impulse was interesting – I wasn't going to write about it, I've been so glowing and admiring of Red. But this is another chapter in the real world of real animals, and the true nature of real sheepherding on a farm, which is rarely as pretty and orderly as the herding trials one sees at fairs or on television. I don't like herding trials and I suspect the sheep don't either.

In the real world of farm and herding dogs, sheep get gripped, run down and bitten sometimes. Maria and I had a bit of the same reaction we had when Simon went after Rocky – we were disappointed in Red, he is so often a nearly perfect dog that I just don't expect him to mess up, and he didn't really mess up any more than Simon did. A ewe took off, he went after her and grabbed her in the usual way, but there was not the usual wool. And it was a hot day and he had worked all day and was tired – sometimes border collies grip when they are worn out and aren't moving as fast as usual. End of story. This morning, the wound looks dry and there is no blood showing, so we will confine her for another day or two. I called the vet yesterday, but called her off this morning. I worked Red a bit and he was his poised and professional self.

I'm glad I didn't think of withholding this story for more than a second.  Our shearer was much impressed by Red, he said he was one of the calmest and most professional dogs he had seen. Red did nothing wrong and this is the real world of animals. I want honestly to be as much of a reflex as being dishonest or manipulative.

Dusk, Spring

Late afternoon light is photographer's light. A good time to crawl around the garden.

Maria's Cactus

I gave Maria a cactus garden recently and I didn't pay much attention to it until I saw the late afternoon sunlight reach in and kiss it and light it up.

Consciousness And The Hero Journey

I had dinner with a new friend the other night and she said she was considering leaving a job she loved and was profoundly meaningful to her to take a job in another city that paid more money and had a bigger title. It also had lots of trouble and conflict.  She loves just about everything in her life, including all of the people she works with and we talked about a culture that puts money and status so far above happiness. I hope she stays where she is. Her story brought me back to my 30′s. I was a reporter and editor in several cities, and I loved journalism, loved every day of it. I was offered a series of jobs that led to more money, bigger titles and eventually a  career in network television, where I worked as executive producer of the CBS Morning News. It wasn't enough to do what Ioved, I thought, I wanted to amount to more than that.

So I quit what  I loved and rushed into a snarling and pressure-filled bureaucracy that paid well – I was driven to work in a big fancy black car – and had a great title, a secretary and a mystical expensive account. I was never so miserable.

Within a few months, I was seeing an analyst – I would lock myself in the office and burst into tears, trembling from one panic attack after another. She prescribed Valium for me, to help my anxiety and to help me sleep. I took Valium for 30 years. No one ever told me that few people who take it for a long time can give it up. Nor did anyone tell me until much later – this shocked me to the core – that I had become a prescription drug addict, taking a drug like that for so long. Like many other people, I thought that addicts only took illegal drugs.  Doctor after doctor continued the Valium prescription until I stopped taking it during my struggles at Bedlam Farm. Had I known how difficult it would be to get off valium I would probably have stayed on it. As it was, I was determined to deal with my problems head on, and without medication. I will not forget the first night I went to sleep without it – I was suddenly into one of those noir films where the addict is locked in a cell going to pieces. Long nights of sweats, nausea, nightmares, struggles breathing, the shakes.  I met my real self that night, it was like being tossed into the middle of a loud and spinning carousel, whizzing by me faster than I could absorb or understand. I did not sleep much for the next two or three years and coming to see my mind really worked – this is possible without medication – was an amazing  if often horrifying experience. I needed for it to happen before  I could begin to get well. This, it turned out, was my hero journey, facing the truth about myself and beginning the process of healing, a process that does not seem to ever stop.

Maria was the only human being to see me at close range during that period, cut off finally from my hiding place, the the successful author giving readers, interviews and touring around the country. Valium was a good place to hide.  Just living my life, folks.

Addicts and alcoholics can always put it on when they need to, it is how they survive.They live in drama and crisis and draw everyone around them into it.  Joseph Campbell said you can wear the mask a long time, but when it comes off,  you better be prepared. I was not prepared.  I took valium instead. I will never quite see myself as an addict, it still seems ridiculous and strange to me, even though I was a legal and culturally-sanctioned one. Many of the people I meet are addicts, hooked on drugs for the rest of their life, their addictions a profit center for lots of corporations.

I learned back then that money does not buy happiness and money and a big title doesn't bring security. And valium does not lead to authenticity.  I think money and titles often just give people more things to be insecure about. Every night, when I go to sleep I go into the bathroom and look up for my container of pills. I threw the last one out a year or so ago – I kept it just in case. I think an addict never quite gives up wanting a fix, it's perhaps in the psyche and in the blood. I can't blame valium for it. A doctor friend told me recently that no patient of hers has ever been able to give up valium after taking it a long time, they try, but they just can't do it. But they can, I told her, they really can. When I gave up valium, I see now that I was taking responsibility for myself. Now, my fear is not living without valium, it's taking it ever again.

Good Morning To Simon

Simon expects a morning hug from Maria and from me. If he doesn't get it, he will come and wait for it.

Sharing The Sheep

The sheep shearing went well. Jim McCrae said our sheep were gentle and co-operative, a legacy of much training, work with Red, care from Maria. Jim was done in less than an hour and off to Cold Antler and other farms in the area. He was gracious to permit me to shoot some video. Come and see Zelda shorn, Red contain the sheep, Maria collect wool to sell as yarn.

Shorn

It's one of the enduring rites of Spring, and it feels good to see the sheep shorn as summer approaches. Maria will take the wool to Vermont for processing and sell some wool and roving. Zelda's wool is much in demand, I think. She has become a rock star among sheep.

Zelda Shorn

Zelda is cool and lean and Maria will have more yarn to sell.

Shearing Zelda

Shearer Jim McRae came from Rutland, Vt. to shear Zelda and the other ewes. Zelda didn't put up much of a struggle, Jim remember her from last year and said she was quite calm. He said all of our sheep were especially calm and nice to work with, which is nice to hear. Jim is a photographer and border collie trainer as well as a shearer and he is great fun to talk to. I've got a nice video to put together and I'll post it later tonight, here and on Facebook.