December 3, 2015: Bedlam Farm

Our Weather:

It is cold and rainy today, November weather has finally arrived, although it is December. Hay for the animals now, twice a day.

Our Porch:

Our porch is a mirror of our lives. In the summer, it is the residence of the Barn Cat Queens, Flo and Minnie. This week, it is being converted to a winter gallery, the winter home of Ed Gulley’s Milk Can Chair and also of Maria’s enchanting and evolving Fiber Chair, formerly in the barn, then in the middle of the yard. I squawked that now that it is a piece of art, it needs to be protected, the artist grudgingly agreed.

There is much happening in the photo, the artist is doing her macrame while dog licks her chin, Minnie is hiding from the dog, who tries to herd her, behind the chair.

The porch is a living thing, it tell a different story all the time.

Goodbye To The Brown Hen

We stopped naming chickens awhile back,  too many of them die, vanish, or get eaten by something. We enjoy them, but we don’t want to know them that well. Two days ago, we noticed that the brown hen, one of three, had vanished. No body, no feathers, no sign of fright or a struggle. She may have gone off into a dark corner to die, or a hawk or fisher or fox might have crept into the field – the peck around out in the pasture – and snatched her.

In any case, she is gone. On a farm, we do not cry for chickens or mourn them. Life is too short, and a chicken is not a dog or a donkey or a pony or cat. I have come to admire them and love their industry and seriousness of purpose – food – but I reserve grief for special occasions.  Chickens are not complex, just about everything in the area eats them, given the chance. One for the food chain. Maria feels much the same way, although I think she is sadder than I am. Our friends the Gulley’s offered us one of their hens, we will go and get her on Saturday.

Chickens are a wonderful metaphor for life. They teach us to accept fate and the nature of life.

Today:

I’m waiting for my editor to read the first draft of “Talking To Animals,” I’m going to write about the convergence of Fear and Creativity, we are going to Foggy Notions (The Bog) tonight, maybe I’ll get a photo there of Kelly. People tell me dark and gloomy weather affects their moods. I guess it affects my mood, but I love it, too. It’s great writing weather. Thinking a lot about friendship and what it means.