Author's Bio

Well, here it is, the first portrait taken of me and Maria and the author's bio photo for "Second Chance Dog: A Love Story," to be published in November by Random House. Much as I am not easy being photographed, I love this photo, it captures the intense love of this wonderful triangle. Maria always looks beautiful to me, but George Forss, brilliant man that he is, captured her  radiance. Frieda got into the spirit of things and didn't try to kill any chickens or barn cats. I am happy to see this photo, as Maria and I have never had a portrait done. George did a great job.

Finishing Up

We began painting Maria's Schoolhouse Studio yellow last Fall, but the winter interrupted the job. We're resuming work on it. Today, going to the dump, now heading to the bookstore for some recommending (518 677-2515). Putting up a clothesline later, weed-whacking, heading out for a walk, going to Williamstown, Mass. for some Vietnamese food.

Flo's Realm

On this farm, our barn cats are much less wild and ephemeral than at the first Bedlam Farm. Flo has claimed the back porch as her territory, she sits on her various thrones and gazes out at the world. We see little evidence of hunting, but then, there are also no mice, rats or other rodents around that we can see. When George Forss came to photograph us yesterday, he and I both saw the same shot at the same time, there is so much going on in this photograph. We are putting up a clothesline in the back yard today, hopefully, we have lots to do.

George Forss

Our second photo session with George Forss went smoothly. Maria and I took it a bit more seriously, dressed up a bit and George and I found a good spot to move the wicker cushion. I was a bit shocked when George told me he only charges $35 for a photo shoot, this is shockingly low for one of the most celebrated landscape photographers in the world. George is the epitome of grace, people are always giving him their old cameras and he is always patching them up and re-using them. He and I shot some photos of Flo – more and more, we are spotting the same images to photograph, and this makes me very proud and happy. I am learning to compose photographs more thoughtfully and this is largely George's doing watching him is so valuable to me, I learn something new every time.

I think we got the images we need for the photo of me, Maria and Frieda for the "Second Chance" book. But I think I need to pay George more than $35. I hear people grouse about their lives all the time – they complain about the Internet, the price of gas, their tax bills. I have never heard George utter a world of complaint about the collapse of photography as an art, the trove of fabulous photographs he took that are sitting in galleries in New York, the very hard work he does to care for himself, his stepbrother, to maintain his art gallery. He is an inspiration to me in more ways than he knows. I hope his dream of encountering alien life is fulfilled. Every day he takes his photos in the old way, he works in his cave-like dark room, he lives his life in grace with his partner, the artist Donna Wynbrandt. How lucky I am to have found him here in my little town, and to have him do the first portrait of me and Maria (and Frieda, the loving Helldog.)

Scott Carrino

Buying local is personal, it supports the individual, it rewards connection and creativity, it cements community. The corporate ethos is only about money, the system does  not permit empathy, the sense of being known, the reality of being cared for. It is soul-killing, it degrades work and security, it rends community.

Here Comes The Corn

Down the road, a neighbor's corn has started to come in. Spring is really  here.

Stinky Labs

Lenore loves her stinky pond, and if you have a lab, you will journey into the messy, the beautiful, sometimes the disgusting (like the stuff she rolled in right after her swim.) Still, all of her love is worth it, and I was enchanted by the reflections in the pond at dusk, when the sun was low in the sky.

Lenore On The Couch

Lenore knows how to live, I think. She loves people, she loves food, she loves her rest. When we moved from the first Bedlam Farm we brought her own private sofa, and its in my office, so I often swivel around and see her dozing. She loves her sofa, and no other dog or human ever uses it. We are lucky to have her and she is lucky to have us, the way it should be with dogs. Border collies do not know how to rest like Labs do.

Nicole and Alliyah

My blog has readers in every state and a number of countries overseas, it is not a local blog and I only occasionally write about local things, but some of them are important and revealing, they speak to broader things. Our small town has a magical new cafe, a friendly place with wonderful food – fresh, healthy, great tasting stuff, and it has quickly become the heartbeat, perhaps even the soul of this town.

I like writing about some local things – Momma's restaurant, Battenkill Books and now, the Round House Cafe – because they have driven home for me the importance and power of buying local, of permitting the growth of small businesses with values, the antithesis of most modern corporations – just follow the awful news from Bangladesh. I am not political, I found the labels of the "left" and "right" narrowing and distasteful, but I guess I do feel strongly about places like the Round House Cafe, where Nicole and Alliyah seem happy to see everyone and are cheerful and helpful. I had lunch there today with an old friend, and another old friend from my former life wandered in who I have not seen in years wandered in and we had a joyous reunion – I will go and see her tomorrow so she can meet Maria.

Yet another friend who is sweating out a mortgage application came in and half the cafe comforted her and told her it would work out. It did, she got the mortgage. In between, Connie from Battenkill came in for her sandwich, but Scott Carrino, the chef and co-owner had slipped out the back door and delivered it to the bookstore for her. She was shocked and delighted. I call the cafe in the morning, and Alliyah takes my order, knows which dressing I like. I thought I forgot my money one day and they told me not to sweat it, I could bring it in any time. It seems that the veins of the community just flow through there – from noon to 2 p.m. it is intense.

Buying local means jobs for people like Nicole and Alliyah and the other people hired by the cafe, and it strengthens and deepens a sense of community and connection. People from other towns are finding the Round House.  I had lunch last week with an artist using new technology to market her work, just as I am and we traded good ideas. There are not many businesses large or small that are run as well as this one, or that exude such a sense of good will. Usually I bring Maria one of their very fresh salads, and I have been getting her these awesome blueberry scones. I don't eat there every day but I wish I could. I don't want to see everyone I know every day either, it is a small town. But I think the Round House is worth writing about because it has become the soul of my town, a beacon of light, an affirmation of what hard work, community, and creativity can do when they are mixed together and served on their own menu. Alliyah feels like family, she knows my voice and reminds me when I forget something I usually get.

Buying local has become a seminal political idea for me, in a period when I literally cannot abide politics and the anger and stridence it breeds. So I'll take some photos of the Round House from time to time, and write about. No corporate food chain is anything like this. Corporations are devouring individuality and community and are wreaking havoc on small business. We are so lucky we aren't a big enough town to draw them in. But this town has also struggled to keep it's Main Street hopping. I think it's winning that battle.

I don't know if there is a Round House or Battenkill Bookstore in your community, but if there is, I  hope you will vote for it buy doing your business there. Lots of towns have lost their heartbeats, I am so happy mine has found some again.

This is something to vote for, just like my bookstore, where I will be from 11 a.m. to 2:30 recommending books to anyone who wants to buy them from Battenkill. 518 677-2515. You may not be able to get a sandwich from the Round House, but you can vote for Battenkill and strike one blow for freedom and community.

First Garden Report

Maria and I planted five different gardens around the farmhouse in the last few weeks, and flowers are starting to come up. We put four flower holders on the porch to get things going, and dug up gardens and planted perennials, pansies and seeds. We see a lot of life coming up. We also added two Lilac bushes to the front of the farmhouse, a magnolia tree and last year, three maples. All of the are flowering and growing. More garden reports on the other gardens to come.

A Spiritual Practice

In a sense, I have always been drawn to walks with dogs as a form of meditation, all the way back to Julius and Stanley, the two Yellow Labs who accompanied me on my run to the mountain and who walked with me several times a day as I organized my thoughts for writing. At Bedlam Farm, the dogs and I walked to the top of the hill and they sat with me while I read and thought about this next chapter of my life. I have continued this practice, this dog meditation. All of my dogs, even Frieda, have entered into the spirit of this powerful meditation. They spread out and lie down and are quiet with me, they listen with me, they do not move or run off or disturb me. After several years of work, Frieda has not joined this practice, she sat with me on the hill near the farm for a half an hour yesterday.

Given the chance and proper training, dogs are contemplatives, they love to serve us in this way, and I believe it is something they need as well me. Dogs love to serve us, it is their mission. My spiritual practice will always incorporate dogs.

A Spiritual Practice

For most of my life, I turned to other people for helping in dealing with fear and its cousin, depression and for building the spiritual life I wanted from my earliest days. The very term "spiritual life" is vague and I have never been precise about what I was seeking. I turned to analysts, therapists, shamans, spiritual counselors, pastors, priests and rabbis, doctors, gurus and wizards. I learned something from each of them but a few weeks ago, I decided to take all of the things I have learned and become my own spiritual counselor – I am, at long last, on my own, and that is a glorious thing to say. I am also grateful that there was so much help for me and that I have always sought help and appreciated it.

Since leaving my support systems behind, I have experienced some increased anxiety and sleeplessness and some sloppiness in what spiritualists call their daily "practice," the fixed and methodical way in which one pursues a spiritual life. So I have redoubled my own efforts to incorporate spiritual pursuits into my daily life. It is natural, when on my own, to slip, and I need to summon the discipline to do this every day. So I am  hard at work on that.

My spiritual practice consists of two or three daily periods of meditation. This morning, I went to a group meditation offered by my friend Mandy Mayer-Hill, a therapist and healing counselor. Maria came, so did Red (Mandy drove Red up from Virginia last summer). Another person was present. I meditated for one half an hour, and it was one of the most important meditations I have had. I concentrated on breathing – deep breath in, count to three, exhale on the slow count to five. My focus was deep and penetrating, and my focus shut out most, if not all of the many thoughts that crowd into my head. This was important.

Most mornings I meditate with Maria after the animals are fed. In the afternoon and evening i meditate briefly (10-15 minutes) alone. These are silent meditations, they have profoundly affected me in the most positive way, I treasure them. I am adding some things to my spiritual practice. I am attending drumming sessions with an instructor, and next Tuesday I will begin private lessons in Tai Chi, the ancient art of movement and grounding. I will report back on that.

It is essential to be disciplined in my practice, regular and committed. It will not be sandwiched in between photos, blogging and walking the dogs (although the walk in the woods is very much part of my practice).  It deserves its own space, it as important as anything else. This is the next step for me in my long and challenging journey towards a spiritual life, and my crack-up at Bedlam Farm was helpful, it woke up me up brought me closer to spirituality than anything had. I needed it, I know some other people who might need it. A friend of mine feels that if you think positively, positive things will happen, and if you permit negative thoughts to enter your head, then you will draw bad things to your life.

I have never been comfortable with this spiritual theory of attraction, I think it encourages people to blame themselves for the very nature of life, into which good and bad things will fall in turn, for the duration. The spiritual test is how we deal with them, not how we pretend we can fend the true nature of life off. Poor people or people with cancer are not to blame for poor mind control. This to me is the core of Orwellian thinking, self-censorship, the worst kind. It is not for me.

My spiritual practice is about how I deal with the real world, troubles and all. Just as I live with real animals in the real world, so must I remain grounded and center as the raging rivers of living come roaring past me. One day it's the computer, the next the car, the next a sick or dying acquaintance, the next money challenges or broken oil heaters or unsold farms. I am no different from you, you are no different from me, this is our fate, our spiritual challenge. Life happens to all of us, and so does death. My practice is my safe place, my unchanging place, the calm in the storm, the path in the woods. The world can rise and fall all around me, but I have a place to go that is steady and grounding, a fixed place in the changing world beyond if I do my work. I am on it.

Love Story

"Second Chance Dog" is the story of how Maria and Frieda came into my life, and the long struggle to bring Frieda into our lives and home safely. It is a love story at many levels – me and Maria, me and Frieda, but at the core, the real love story is Maria and Frieda, their connection is so strong. Frieda was abandoned in the Adirondacks when she became pregnant (her puppies, if she had any, were never found) and she languished in a crate at the ASPCA shelter for nearly a year until Maria came in and took her on the spot. Frieda and I are pretty tight these days, she is a great dog, loyal, loving and protective, sometimes too protective. I took to this shot right away.

Second Chance Dog

Photographer George Forss came over for the second round of our "Second Chance Dog: A Love Story" author's bio photoshoot. This shot will go in the back of the book, which will be out November 5 this fall. My next e-book, "Listening To Dogs," is nearing completion and will be published shortly. We took the wicker bench from the porch and put it out in the corner of the pasture. Maria and Frieda lay on the couch I stood behind them. Somebody asked me why I'm not in these photos and the answer is simple: you can't take the photos and be in them at the same time. I'll put one of George's up when it comes in. The shoot went well, Frieda was a doll.

Peaceable Kingdom

The Peaceable Kingdom is an ancient theological idea that dreams of the world coming together after discord and disconnection. This idea – it is present in St. Augustine's "City On The Hill" as well – was always on my mind when I moved to upstate New York and bought a farm. I had this idea, this fantasy, I think, that I could forge such a kingdom, bring it bear with thought, care, and affection. I always saw the animals on my farm as a peaceable kingdom, sentient beings who, if cared for well, would live together in harmony and contentment. This is part of our attraction to animals, the chance to do for them what was not done to us.

This dream of mine has been disrupted so many times. By my own disturbance and anger and fear. By death and illness. By foxes and sick and dying dogs. By angry people on the other end of technology. By recessions, divorces, economic upheavals, changes in the culture of the world. By Simon and Rocky, real estate markets, and by a world that seems to be heading in the opposite direction, to a kingdom of fear, warnings, conflict and denial.

I think farms are so appealing to people because they give us the opportunity to create such a kingdom, a self-contained world of sustenance, nurture and perhaps healing as well, because so many of the people I know who have come to farms – people like me -  are in search of the healing that emanates from the Peaceable Kingdom, the City Of God. If the animals can live with one another, why can't we? That has always been the core of this idea.

I think I have come to see in my spiritual yearnings that this kingdom is a vision, a city on a hill, a dream, we come to it step by step, bit by bit, day by day, it does not appear all at once like some spiritual empire constructed over night. This morning, I came out to the pasture and I got a glimpse of this world, this vision, my dream right before me. Donkeys, chickens, sheep and a barn cat all gathered under the shade of the apple tree in the pasture. It would have been so much more complete if Rocky were standing there too, but the Peaceable Kingdom, like life on a farm, is not a perfect world. It is a world of glorious moments, shafts of light, intimations of promise, hope and faith. But, clearly, part of why I am. And inspiring to see.

The Woods At Dusk

We took the dogs on the path in the woods at dusk and I have been struggling to figure out how to capture the feeling of the woods as the last light of day comes streaking through the canopy, touching some trees and some leaves as with a magic wand. I got closer to it tonight that I  have before, but still working on it. Photo Album on Facebook.

For The Sky

When you live with Maria – I am very lucky to live with Maria – beautiful things appear on windowsills and frames. I never see her put them there, and I never see her remove them, I just look up and see something that personifies grace and affirmation. I think of this flower as reaching for the sky, as I am reaching for the sky. I met someone tonight who was telling me about all of the money he had in the bank, and he was going to buy a boat this summer and take  his wife on a sail down the coast for a month, and then find a house on the coast of Maine to buy and live in. I did feel a pang of jealousy – I would love to do those things for Maria as she would perhaps love to do them for me.

But then I thought of my life and despite the turns in the road, I wouldn't trade a minute of it for time anywhere else or make any different choices for a million dollars. I'd love to have a boat but I have also learned you don't need a boat to be happy. I am just as happy walking with Maria and the dogs in the woods, just as excited by our plans to weed and hang around together and go get some Vietnamese food in Williamstown, Mass. That is a big lesson for me, and I have learned it. I wish my friend a good trip, I hope he is happy. It sounds wonderful.

Lady Frieda

Frieda in autumn is a different dog that I met five years ago. She is still vigilant, still a hunter, still a watchdog. But we have grown much closer and easier. Several times a week, I go up to the top of the hill across from the farmhouse and after walking a bit, Frieda and I sit down and take in the sights and sounds of the woods. She is still alert to any sound or movement – that is how she survived life in the Adirondacks I suspect. When I tell her story, people always say "oooh, poor girl," about her time in the Adirondacks, but if you know Frieda, you know she probably loved it and was in her element. She still bears watching. Frieda and I have come to love one another and she is almost as affectionate to me as she is to Maria. Some people have known Frieda for years and she won't let anybody else touch her. Frieda in autumn is a dignified gray lady.

Chicken Reposo

Chickens at rest.

Continued

I've decided to do a series of portraits of Zelda (feel free to use them as screensavers or print them out), she is a charismatic and compelling animal. She has touched many other people, I see, and I am constantly amazed at the animals here and how they react to us. Every morning I get up early, and especially when the sun is hitting the back pasture, and now, Zelda is always there, usually by herself, waiting for me, watching for me. I do not give her treats or have all that much to do with her except when I appear with Red, which is interest to her. She stands quite alertly, looks at me directly. I do not know what she is trying to communicate, I have never seen a sheep do this before. Maybe she is reminding me that will kick my ass again if I try and tell her what to do (she is like some other women around here in that way) or maybe she is trying to figure me out. Either way I will pay attention to her as well.

Please?

There is nothing more wrenching than a border collie waiting at a gate to a pasture with sheep in it, except maybe a Lab waiting to eat. I think he believes that if he looks at me long and hard enough, I'll just open the gate and let him in. He is often right.

Ears Speak

Animals speak in many different ways, with their bodies, their posture, their tails, their eyes and their ears. Donkeys in particular communicate with their ears. When they are down, they are angry or protective. When they are up, they are focusing on something that has caught their attention. This is how they say good morning to us.

The Second Podcast

I'm happy to offer my second podcast, this one on animal grieving, inspired by yesterdays' blogpost on the memorial service for Leo, my friend's beloved Lab/Mix who dies in his sleep at age 12. Many people wrote me and asked me to talk about this subject more. I think the podcast is a good forum for an occasional discussion of grieving, I wrote about my life with dogs as a "river of joy," and expressed a desire not to turn that joy into misery and lament. I've been writing about this subject for years, from "New Work Of Dogs" to "Going Home: Finding Peace When Pets Die." We love animals more and more and need them more and more and so their death becomes more important to us. I appreciate the exchange of ideas and hope to draw from your comments and ideas for the podcasts. Next week I'll be podcasting about life on the farm, on a lighter note, I think I'll do it on Simon and the donkeys. Then one on Flo, the barn cat.

There is a podcast box at the top of the Farm Journal page and you can subscribe to my podcasts there. Here's the second podcast.

2013-16-05Episode2-Grieving