This weekend I will shop, cook, visit friends in Vermont. Take photos. Read three books. Meditate for an hour each day. Walk with the dogs. Herd with Red. Walk with Maria. Talk with Maria (help stop her mind from spinning, which it does now and then).  Do farm chores, move donkeys, water sheep. Go to a friend’s showing at an art gallery. Go to dinner with George Forss and Donna Wynbrandt. Take photos using my 35 mm story lens. Rest up.

A friend told me he had $750,000 IRA in the bank and I could tell he sort of wanted to know how much I had. Well, I said, not a tenth of that. Not close, really. His eyes got wide – he works in publishing – and he asked me if I felt I was poor. I was surprised by the question. I said I have never been richer.

What do you mean, he said, dubious.

I gave him my definition of a rich man.

A rich man:

– Has someone who loves him so much she thinks he is beautiful, when he is not.

– Has work that he loves.

-Has friends that he loves.

– Is free to make his own decisions, live his own life.

– Is healthy in the most elemental way. He loves his life.

-Does not need senior discounts at Dunkin’ Donuts.

– Does not talk to his doctor about Viagra, or need it to make love.

– Lives close to the natural world, and learns from animals every day.

– Does not need to be angry to be a man, or to dominate women or love war.

– Always has a good dog at his side.

– Takes photos of the light and beauty in the world and shares them.

– Does not need the news to tell him what is happening in the world.

– Does not need anger to express himself.

– Does not need to tell other people what to do.

– Can do what he wanted to do his whole life – write books.

How can you get any richer than that?