I am often asked to post a photo of Bedlam Farm from a distance, I’m not sure why. I don’t shoot photos on request or assignment, they are all organic, part of the natural order of life here. I don’t pose them. Walking up a nearby country road, I turned and saw our farm and liked the feeling of it, nestled so comfortably in the shroud of beautiful old trees, right off a busy highway, yet remote and private at the same time.
Our forebears wisely planted a ring of trees – including several beautiful maples – around the farmhouse, as was the custom a couple of centuries ago. We have planted four or five new ones. Our farmhouse is ringed by green and color, beautiful trees and gardens.
Half the town drives by every day and waves or beeps, yet it never feels invasive, we are comfortable there, eager to explore our 17 acres once we figure out how to clear a path back through our woods. This is our third year at this version of Bedlam Farm – Bedlam 2.0 – and I plan to spend the rest of my life here. I think Maria does also.
I never say never about anything, but if I have a choice, I’ve moved for the last time. The first Bedlam – 1.0 – was a creative wellstone for me, i wrote eight books up there on that beautiful hill. How can I ever forget my wonderful study, looking straight out at the big dairy barn?
But I don’t think of it often, I am engaged and happy where I am.
Still, I have learned that life has little regard for my plans. We are not as invested in property as we once were, we seek a meaningful life.
On the eve of the next Open House – June 25-6, I’ve been thinking a lot about the Bedlam Farm idea. My marriage to Maria was born out of the idea of creative encouragement – I encouraged her to practice her art, as she so deeply wished to do, she encouraged me to start taking photos and to have faith in myself as a writer at a time when my writing life was under relentless siege.
Since that time, we have practiced the very creative art of encouragement – at our Open Houses, our workshops and classes, with our friends. Encouragement is a precious gift to people struggling to find the courage to follow their own hearts, rather than the wishes of others. A lot of people have helped us, we have helped a lot of people.
The Open Houses have always been a celebration of the idea of being fulfilled, following your bliss. I imagined the first Bedlam Farm, with its four barns and outbuildings, would be the perfect creative arts center, but our plans changed and do not have four beautiful old barns to work with anymore.
But it seems the Open Houses have been stronger than ever, even without the grand scene of the first Bedlam Farm. There is a message in that also. I haven’t been back to that farm but once since it sold last Fall, and I’m not sure when or if I will go back. I am not a believer in nostalgia, or in looking back. I live in the moment and hope to be part of the future.
Maria and I have had the good fortune to encourage and support a lot of people, as we both were encouraged. Art and creativity are powerful forces and faith with us, both have sustained us, helped us grow, and connected us. Maria has been skilled and generous in her selection of artists to show their work at the Open Houses. These artists have been much loved and sold a lot of their work. Some return year after year.
This year, the celebration widens a bit, we want to celebrate the art of rural life, from poets to farrier to shearer to artist to painter to poet to dairy farmer. Our community is rich in life and agriculture, rich in art, each compliments the other and will be the centerpiece of our Open House.
The art of rural life has been forgotten by the big museums and galleries, mostly, just as economists and politicians have abandoned rural life to its own fate in the face of the global economy. I am happy that this dream – celebrating and encouraging creativity – has made the trip to the new farm.
I thought of it right away when I looked at this view from up the hill. I am so grateful I moved to the country and have lived on two wonderful old farms. I am not a farmer, but I have never felt or been more at home.
That’s my farm buried in there, and Maria and I both love it very much.