My good friends Audrey and Beth came over yesterday, as they do from time to time, bringing carrots, donkey cookies and this time, a beautiful book about wildflowers, so that I might know what I am looking at and photographing. They spent time with Maria in her studio talking about fiber and quilts and sewing, something that is beyond me a bit.
  I loved sitting on the porch with these thoughtful, gentle and loving people. It seems as if the porch has come to life again, after being neglected for a year and shut down by the harsh winter. I gave Audrey a chapter from the new novel, and we’ll see what she thinks about it. I have friends coming around lunchtime, and then I hope to get to the Redux Gallery in Dorset, V. and see my “fine art” photos hanging.
   I got a lot of quiet lovely messages this morning from people who have been reading the blog for a few years, but just decided to write. I am learning about the perspectives of other people rather than my own these days – self-absorption can be a lethal disease, and by its very nature, hard to see – and in these messages, I see how the evolution of the farm might look from a distance. I have no perspective on it, and the idea that this difficult year could be inspirational to someone in Idaho is simply beyond me, but very gratifying to hear.
  I think many people do not know that they can live their lives if they wish, or are not encouraged to do so. Encouragement is something of a religion to me. I need it, and work hard to offer it. There is a fine line with it, also, in that you have to let people live their own lives and solve their own problems – or not. People who don’t want to change will always find reasons not to do so. I admire people with the heart and soul to change. It is hard work.
  The farm is quiet, lovely, too. I am glad I reduced the number of animals, painful though it was and upsetting to some people. The farm has returned to itself, and to my vision for it. This summer is about work for me – working hard to write a good children’s book, working hard to write a good novel. Neither will be easy. Both will be immensely rewarding if I pull it off. If I don’t…well, I just will. I woke up thinking of a field of shedding dandelions out in the woods, and which lens to use to get the shot. Maria will be home briefly from work this morning, and then we will take a walk.
 Today I hope to do so more Frieda training. Read a novel. Print out a chapter and ponder it. Be grateful. Think of people who have sacrificed.