Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

Feather in Breeze. Thirty Second Meditation

Tuesday, August 21st, 2018

I saw this feather stuck in a spiders web, being blown by a low breeze.  Perfect for a Thirty Second Meditation.

Morning Harvest

Tuesday, August 21st, 2018

The apples are starting to turn red.  Most of them are small and bruised or already eaten by ants and pecked by the hens by the time I get to them.  But now they’re falling bigger and more ripe.  I think I’ll be making a lot of apple sauce this year.

My House of Hearts Tote Bag, All Filled Up

Monday, August 20th, 2018

My House of Hearts Tote Bag filled with groceries on our kitchen counter. (with Rose looking on)   For sale in my Etsy Shop.

I chose one of the black House of Hearts Tote Bags for myself.

I keep it in my bag, It’s light weight and folds up nice and small, so I always have a shopping bag with me whenever I go to the store.

I fill it up with my shipping envelopes when I got to the postoffice.  Then, once my packages are in the mail, I  fill it up again at the Co-op, Hardware store or  Moses Farm Stand.

I have more House of Hearts Tote Bags for sale in my Etsy Shop.

They’re made by the woman who I visited in India last year and taught to make potholders.  Now those women are making these tote bags and I’m glad to be able to sell them and support them.  They’re bettering their lives thought their work at House of Hearts, so when you buy one of their tote bags, you’re supporting them too.

House of Hearts Tote Bags are $15 each + $6 shipping.  They come in Black  and White.  You can see and buy them here.  Or by clicking on the big Etsy Icon on the top of my Blog.  

So Many Apples…

Monday, August 20th, 2018

Our apple tree is already dropping big, tart apples all over the yard and into the barnyard.

The donkeys and sheep are having a feast.  Lulu wasted no time this morning taking the apple I offered her over the fence.

Morning Harvest

Monday, August 20th, 2018

Flo with our morning harvest

Every morning I check the roost for eggs.

Usually we get at least one for breakfast, sometime two.  Now I also check my, unconventional (because it’s not just corn, beans and squash)  Three Sister’s Garden to see what I can pluck for the day, too.

Somehow the zucchini often alludes me.  Hiding under those big prickly leaves, I can easily miss them until they get really big.  But the cherry tomatoes are easy to spot.  Those tiny specks of red peeking out from all that green.

Good Monday Morning From Bedlam Farm 8/20/18

Monday, August 20th, 2018

The Bear and Ed’s Good-bye Message

Sunday, August 19th, 2018

The bear in the back of Ed’s pickup, out in our pasture, with the DEC, Ed and me.

No one ever comes to our front door, so when I heard the knock, at first I thought it was the wind.

But there on the front porch was a man I’d never seen before.

He told me that, this morning, around 5:30 he was driving by and  saw a big black bear cross the road and run into he trees on the other side of your pasture fence.    “I just wanted to let you know there was a bear in the neighborhood”, he said.

I thanked him and thought of Ed Gulley.

Actually since Ed died, that bear that was hit by a truck two years ago and climbed over the fence into out pasture, has been on my mind.

It was a pretty dramatic moment and Ed was at the farm, picking up his work from the June Open House.  Jon, Ed and I   watched the bear hide in the tall grasses as Chloe, my pony at the time, ran the fence snorting and tossing her head.

Jon called the police and eventually the DEc came and shot the injured and dying bear.

Ed went home with the bear in the back of his truck and later skinned him with the help of one of his sons.  He was planning on having the skin taxidermied  but I don’t think he ever got around to it.

The bear dying on the farm and Ed being there when it happened had a spiritual feeling to it.   And in the days after we tried to figure out the meaning to it.

Ed came to believe that  “the bear, a young male, was looking to find and mark his own territory, that’s what they do when they leave their mothers, he was crossing the street and heading into the woods and hills across the road. You and Maria have been helping me to do the same thing, I want to expand my territory as a writer and an artist and that’s why he came to where I was, we both are doing the same thing. I think that’s why he came.”

I’m not sure how it works, but when that man came to the door this morning and told me about the bear, I got the feeling it was  a message from Ed.

I’m not saying that Ed’s spirit was somehow in the bear.  But if we’re all connected, people, animals and the natural world,  as I  believe we are, then couldn’t it make sense that between Ed,  the bear and the man who saw him  and came to tell us about it, that it’s some kind of sign.

Today is Ed’s funeral.  Perhaps this is Ed’s final good-bye to us or an acknowledgement of our friendship.

If the man coming to the door and telling us about out bear neighbor was a dream, it seems it would be the perfect symbol for Ed goodbye.




Kelley and Linda’s Flying Vulva Potholder

Sunday, August 19th, 2018

Linda and Kelley

Kelley sent me this photo of her and her wife Linda with their Flying Vulva Potholder.  

Kelley  wrote….“I’ve hung it in a few different places trying to find it’s home. For now it’s in our living/dining room where it can be seen often and by anyone who visits.”

I love that they put it in a place where everyone who visits can see it.  And I love their smiles!

(I have a more Flying Vulva Potholders and Decals for sale in my Etsy Shop.)

What Friends Do

Friday, August 17th, 2018

I looked at the corn growing behind Ed’s coffin and smiled.

How perfect, I thought, for him to be here surrounded by corn. The corn he grew and harvested for most of his life.  I thought of the cycles of farm life, how close they are to the earth.

Birth, death, rebirth.  Year after year after year.  Ed knew it well.

Carol and the rest of her family stood in a receiving line under the big tent.  I sat in one of the otherwise empty chairs while Jon took pictures. When I saw a gap in the line, Carol waiting patiently for the next person to make their way to her, I cut in and gave her a hug.  It was a long, hard hug, the kind of hug that takes the place of words.

Even though it was in a corn field, and  Ed was wearing a camouflage t-shirt and shorts and most of the people who came were wearing jeans or shorts, flip-flops and sneakers, still there was a formality to the wake.

So Jon and I got in line.  I gave hugs to grandchildren whose names I couldn’t remember but whose faces I recognized.  I gave hugs to Carol and Ed’s children who I’ve come to know, a little better,  over the past months.

I left before Jon did for my Bellydancing Class. It felt right to me, to be going to class after the wake.  Dancing as the antidote to death.

I was surprised when my eyes started to fill with tears as I walked back to my car.  And more surprised when I couldn’t stop crying on the twenty minute drive to my class.

I remember the first time I mentioned Bellydancing to Ed, he made one of those typical “guy” remarks.  But then, when he watched the Sister’s of the Shawl dancing  at the Open House, he told me,  with wonder in his voice, that they looked like a kaleidoscope.

Ed loved to talk and was a great storyteller, so I wouldn’t have thought it when I first met him, but he was   one of the few men that I’ve known in my life that actually listened to me.  Our conversations were mostly about art and he was hungry to hear what I thought about his art and about art in general.  He was never dismissive of my thoughts and ideas. He took me seriously.

And for guy like Ed, who has been, unquestioningly, doing things his way his whole adult life, that’s unusual.

Jon and I keep talking about how Ed’s death has hit us harder than we thought it would, in ways we wouldn’t have expected.  We keep trying to understand it, to figure out just what Ed meant to us.

I’m prone to letting my feelings take over, allowing myself to feel what I feel when I feel it.  Intellectualizing the death of a friend too much can be a way of avoiding emotions.

But I am curious too. With some friends it’s easy.  I just know what they mean to me, the importance of them in my life is obvious.

But Ed was an unlikely friend for me to have.

I can see now that the way Ed listened to me and took me seriously was special.  It made me feel good about myself, gave me a boost of confidence and allowed me to see what I had to give.

I also see that we were both able to open ourselves up to each other. To trust each other. There were many times in my life where I wouldn’t have been able to do that with someone like Ed.  And I don’t know for sure, but I imagine it was probably the same for Ed.

But isn’t that just what friends do.

What a great gift, what a great loss.








In The Back Pasture

Friday, August 17th, 2018

Even though you can’t see Red in the video, the sheep are reacting to him.