When I first met Maria, she was an artist who hadn’t worked at her art for some time for  many different reasons. She never explained, but she seemed sad about it. She told me she had no space to work, and I could see how much she missed her art, and I offered the use of the Studio Barn, which I was thinking of tearing down. It was, to me, an ugly building, built in the 70’s by one of the former farmers who owned my farm.  I was happy to see it used, and had been looking for an artist who needed workspace.

The old farmer built it to repair and sell appliances. It was ugly to me, having none of the classic and dignified look of old barns. It blocked the beautiful view of the valley. Maria seemed uncomfortable with the offer, but couldn’t refuse it. She was quiet, and never said much about her work or life. She came to the Studio Barn late at night, or in the early morning hours, always coming so quietly that I did not know she was there. At night sometimes, I would look out and see the lights from the Studio Barn, sitting out aglow over the edge of the hill, things being sewn but never seen. She never once came to the farmhouse.

I decided never to bother her while she was working. And she never bothered me. I was like that for a year. Then I brought her tea on bitter  cold nights, sometimes popcorn. When I knocked and went in, I would find Mother the Barn Cat sitting on one of Maria’s soft chairs, purring happily. In exchange for the barn, Maria insisted on taking care of the animals on weekends, and she came and went just as quietly, never disturbing me and I only knew she was there when the dogs barked, and then they stopped. I would look out sometimes and see her giving the sheep and donkeys treats, talking with them, brushing them. Frieda was too wild and crazy for her to bring.

Maria loved the Studio Barn from the beginning, she thought it was a beautiful building. She wrote on her blog that if we ever sold the farm, she would burn it down before seeing someone else there. And by then I already knew she was not so quiet, or so shy.

I loved looking out across the road, and seeing the Studio Barn lit up like some aging freighter on the sea, and I smile, knowing beautiful things are being made there by a creative and gentle soul. Life seems right to me.