Month: August 2015

One of the goddesses from Maria’s new Goddess Banner, not yet for sale. Goddess And Dog.

The real farmers take their hay seriously, when I first moved upstate and  bought hay, Danny Thomas, one of the great farmers in my area, would bring it to the farm and ask me to smell it, touch it. Some farmers even taste it to make sure it is moist and nutritious. Then they talk about what a tough year it is, and how the price of diesel fuel and baling wire and tractor repairs are shooting up, milk prices are down, and they have to raise the price a bit.

At first I laughed off this sweet tradition, now I take it seriously. Tradition matters to farmers. This year, we are lucky to have ordered our hay from our good friends Carol and Ed Gulley, who work like slaves on their Bejosh Farm. I love Ed’s  T-shirt, “I”m Grumpy Because You’re Dopey!” Carol and Ed love each other dearly, and they have some of the best farm stories and tales I have ever heard.

They came over today to show me a bale of hay from their fields. It is rich and moist, second hut hay with alfalfa mixed in. Be careful with it, Ed said, it might be too rich for the pony. Ed insisted that I bring some of the hay to Chloe, our pony, and to Lulu and Fanny, our donkeys, so they could sample it. They loved it, inhaled it.

It was a hard year, Ed said. Too much  rain, hard to hay, a lot of the farmers were holding back on the hay so that they could sell it when the prices go up later in the year. He charged us $5 a bale, a good price for a tough year (the price of bailing string has nearly doubled, he said.) We are having dinner with the Gulleys on Friday, we’re bringing pizza to their farm. It is a pleasure to bring food to a farmer’s house, they are always exhausted at the end of the day, it it is a joy to spare them cooking. And they are great fun to spend an evening with, Ed can bullshit me right into the ground, and that doesn’t happen all the time.

I met Carol Gully in cardiac rehab, we became instant friends. She just got her first camera and her first computer, so she will finally look at my blog, she says. I love Carol, she is warm and funny and honest, just like her husband. Sometimes Ed pretends to be gruff, but his heart is as big as our apple tree. He is also a gifted folk artist, Maria wants to sell some of his work at the October Open House.

The sampling of the hay is a harbinger of autumn. We loved our hay, we are getting another 125 bales as soon as it is ready. We have to make sure we get some firewood in soon, as well , we need at least five more cords and we need it in time to dry out in the sun. It’s ordered. The light and leaves are turning, it’s time to think of winter. We need to take winter seriously up here, as many people do all over the country.

We need to be ready, we owe it to the animals, to ourselves.

I suppose if you are a goddess who reads voraciously about the goddess symbols of human history, it is only a matter of time before you start creating goddesses in your art. Maria made a Goddess Banner this week, she hasn’t finished it or ironed it yet, but it is striking and evocative. The goddess culture is a seminal part of feminism and women’s identity, it has always been a great influence on Maria and her art.

I love this banner, I’m not sure what Maria will do with it – she isn’t either – but I hope she sells it and makes all kinds of goddesses in her studio. It seems the most natural and fitting thing in the world to me.

Red and I walked along Macmillan Road, just ahead of a storm we saw moving over us. it was a beautiful walk, quiet and peaceful,  especially with Fate back in Maria’s studio. I love having Fate, but I appreciate my time with Red alone,  we are so in  sync, we can think and push the distractions of the world away. We turned just in time, got back to the car as the storm broke.

We have a new game. In the morning we walk by the meadow, and next to it, there is a huge field of corn. Fate dives into the field, and then vanishes, we can’t see or hear her, we occasionally see cornstalks moving slightly or hear some rustling. At first, we worried she might get lost in their or turned around, the field is vast, and I’m not sure what she is doing in there.

After a few minutes, the rustling sound gets closer, and she explodes out of the cornfield, back into the meadow, tongue dragging, a great gleam in her eye. I think she has a secret life in the meadow, I imagine her tearing up and down the rows, living every minute of her young life.