November 19,2007 – Sunny, cool, sleet and snow on the way. Giving thanks this week, this morning for Annie. One of the sweet parts of my day and life is the morning walk with Annie, who has become a valued friend and a major reason I can stay on this farm. We throw the ball for Rose and the dogs, and walk into the woods, and talk about the farm and the animals, how they are doing, what’s broken, what needs maintenance and repair, who needs feed, grain or hay.
  She is worried about me a bit, thinking I am distracted, disconnected, not as peaceful here as I was. “Sometimes,” she says, “you are just not here.” I am glad she feels comfortable telling me that, and I know what she means. This is true. Various dramas, including hospice work, other issues, have pulled me out of the rythymic idyll that marked a year or so, and she right, but I believe this is a good thing. A writer ought not be stuck in the same trench year after year, or he will have nothing new to write about. The last year has pulled me away from the farm, and into the outside, and I am writing about that. Izzy in particular, is turning my life upside down with his hospice work. So have Anthony’s struggles. That has to happen off of the farm.
  Each day, I visit the donkeys, give them cookies, see the goats, give them popcorn or bread, visit the cows, give Elvis an apple or carrot. The nourish, ground and sustain me, ever day, as does Annie, an unfailingly generous, cheerful and competent person. Her spirit infuses the place with a sense of safety and care. And harmony, if I think about it.
  When Annie pulls in in her truck, all the animals light up. The sheep baaa, the donkeys bray, the goats yamme, and the dogs wiggle and bark with excitement. It’s like the circus comes to down and the kids are enthralled. She just lights the place up and the greets, talks to and checks on everybody. It’s lovely to see, always, one of the reasons the farm and the animals seem to radiate so  much contentment and affection.
  She, like Rose my border collie, are the two indispensable elements.
  I’ve also worked hard – camping, reading, meditation, solitude, journaling – to find a peaceful place inside my head. Thanks to Hannah Arendt, C.S. Lewis, Thomas Merton, Harold Bloom and his poems. I’m almost back.
   Anthony and I worked hours yesterday to finish “Pay Attention,” which Maria Heinrich will edit, and which, hopefully, will be published shortly. I am proud of it, and of him, though life is challenging for him now, and I am concerned for him, as Annie is for me. I told Annie that this year was marked by turning away from the farm, to life, and then after I’ve written about that, I think I will relish turning back. I am thinking about doing a book centered on Rose, the most remarkable dog I know in many ways, called Barnyard Tales, about how Rose runs the barnyard, interacts with the other animals and keeps order. I’ve never written enough about Rose, and I think it’s time to give her her due. I give thanks for her too, every day, while I’m at it.
  Paula and Emma are on the way for Thanksgiving, which is nice, and I give thanks for that as well.

  Above, Lenore is watching me. You can’t train a dog if they don’t pay attention to you, and  do this by carrying a lot of biscuits and treats around and holding them up to my eyes, so that she will get used to looking at me. I am happy with the way her training is going. Potentially, a great dog, and I have not yet messed it up and don’t intend to. Dogs like this are a rare and great gift, even if they eat revolting things.

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 A reminder to please think about contributing to the Karlie Armstrong-Gates Trust, for a five-year-old girl who lost her mother recently in very tragic circumstances. You can contribute to The Karlie Armstrong-Gates Trust, c/o TD Banknorth, Main Street, Salem, N.Y.,12865.