I don’t much care for the word journey, it is so over-used and often invoked, but as a writer I can’t really find any other word for the past years. Two years ago, I saw this pony in front of his collapsed barn and I stopped to take a photo and met Florence Walrath, and as a result of that afternoon, we are leaving Bedlam Farm tomorrow and moving to a new home.

I am feeling more emotions that I can reasonably process, tired but exhilarated. I am sitting at my computer in a room already stripped nearly bare. The donkeys and sheep are gone, the barn cats and chickens leaving this weekend. Soon we will all be together in our new place, Maria’s Studio is ready, my office will be put together tomorrow. I am feeling the greatest love for Bedlam Farm. Someone close to me told me soon after I met Maria that this is what I came here seeking – love.  I see now that this so.

I have loved my time at Bedlam Farm, the good and the bad. I have touched or felt every inch of this place, buried animals I love, shot rabid skunks and raccoons, restored barns, held art shows, taking so many images, forging my own ideas about living my life, my own values, day by day, chore by chore, experience by experience. I came to life her, grew up, learned things.

Bedlam Farm touched not only my heart but many others. So it is, after all, about love. I came here and lost it, I came her and found it. I fell apart here and came to life, was reborn, awakened. I found some of the spiritual life I have always wanted. I was a lonely place, a fortress, and a bountiful place, a palace. I brought Maria popcorn every night in her little Studio and we fell in love there. I promised her I would bring her joy if she could love me, and she trusted me to do it.

I never imagined that she would love me, and here on Bedlam Farm, she did, and I loved her back and that is the pot at the end of the rainbow, the purpose of Bedlam Farm, the reason I came, the reason I’m going. Acknowledging my love and letting go of it, so I can love anew tomorrow. It is about love. Love to you, precious farm and every inch of your soil, honor to your glorious and proud past, a tip of the cap to your wonderful future, when someone other than me loves you next.