I met Mary Kellogg when she was 79, she sat on my porch at Bedlam Farm and told me she had written poetry and never shown it to anyone, even her beloved husband Dick, who died some years before we met. She showed me the poetry and I showed it to my new friend Maria – we shared a passion for creativity and encouragement. Soon, we worked to publish two volumes of Mary’s wonderful poems – “My Place On Earth,” and “Whistling Woman.” Mary marked the beginning of our friendship as well as her emergence as a respected and beloved poet.

Mary writes about connection, independence, family, she has sold more than 1,000 copies of her work. We became close friends, when I began dating Maria, Mary was the first person I told. “Oh, how lovely,” she said. “She will keep you in line.” She was right.

Mary is 84 now, she has been a presence at every Open House we have ever had, reading her old and new poems – we are working together on a third volume. Maria and I were both sad to learn that Mary will not be able to make this open house, she is suffering from a recurrence of painful Lyme Disease. We went to see her today, brought her some soup and a scone from the Round House Cafe. She has lost a great deal of weight and been in some pain.

Mary lives on a 30-acre farm at the top of a winding road in one of the most remote corners of our county. Mostly, she takes care of the property herself and she loves ever square inch of it, she says she never plans to leave, Mary does not follow the suffocating expectations of being older in our culture, she lives life on her own terms, drives sick people to the doctor, she is the Whistling Woman.

We will miss her great spirit at the Open House, but I plan on reading some of her poems and Maria will sell copies of her poetry books in the Schoolhouse Studio. Mary knows what her place on earth is, she knows where she is in life, but she is determined to live every day in a meaningful and generous way. She is one of the most admirable people I have ever known, and I will be thinking of her Saturday and Sunday, where she would always stand in the middle of a big circle and share her wonderful work.

Mary still cannot say why she never showed her poetry to anyone, she admits it was probably because no one had ever encouraged her. Once someone did, she is off and running and running still. We plan on publishing her third volume of poetry in the Spring, it is as yet untitled.