I begin most mornings with a donkey carrot crunch, bringing them carrots or cookies, and today I let them in with the cows because there is more grass in that pasture. They like it there.

May 26, 2008 – Memorial Day is one of those ritualistic days that has lost meaning for many people, including me sometimes, or that means the start of the summer or a trek to the beach. I often feel I love the country because one is closer to life and death here, or so it seems. Two of my neighbors have lost sons in Iraq, and I remember when I was living in New Jersey I never knew a single person in the military.
   I always try and pause and remember all of the people over so many years, who have lost their lives serving in wars somebody else started. On a large scale, the suffering and loss in unimaginable. It’s easier for me to personalize it, and to try and skip around the politics to the sacrifice and suffering.
   Around here, there are little cemeteries all over the place commemorating the dead in the French-Indian Wars, the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, the wars of the 20th century. Later today, I will drive over to Argyle and put a flower on the tomb of James Patterson, the man who built my farmhouse. It is tricky sometimes to honor the dead without celebrating the wars themselves.
  I will do some writing, take some photos, go get the dogs later in the day, take the sheep out tonight. This week, I move my office upstairs – more space, more privacy.