Red and I went to  the first Bedlam Farm this morning with my friend Jack Macmillan, we are trying to fix a broken door latch. It was a cold day, a beautiful day. It is getting easier to go to the farm, not so painful, I am always struck by the beauty and comfort and character of the place. Our realtor said she cannot understand why it has not sold, perhaps, she said, it doesn’t want me to leave. Perhaps, I said, the market isn’t back yet. I am a rationalist about these things, I don’t think we need any more statues or shrines or conversations with the property.

People from all over the country have driven by just to see it, many still do. How remarkable that a place has so much magic, even if no one has come forward to claim it.

I have left Bedlam Farm behind in most ways. I love it and am proud of what i did to restore it, but times have changed so much, and I know I can’t afford to keep it any longer, I can’t really manage two properties and two mortgages. Fortunately, I have a bank that one can speak to and we are talking about it in a respectful and cordial way. It is not easy, it is not painless, but it is necessary. I loved seeing Red between the two gargoyles that we have decided to leave there, they are not part of the place, part of the spirit of it. Red came to me here at the farm, he is at home there. Such a beautiful place, such a creative place.

I wish it happiness and peace.