The first day of the Open House seemed perfect to me, and that is not a word I throw around lightly. It was everything we hoped it would be, meant it to be and have worked for it to be. Just the right number of people, at just the right time, for just the right reasons.

It was not about money or politics or fear or cruelty, it was very much about encouragement and connection. About the strength and beauty of the human spirit.  About other people reaching up to the sky, through fear, neglect and so many other obstacles.

It was about our very dear friend Mary Kellogg, now 86, walking with a cane, struggling to hear, reading the beautiful poems she showed Maria and I at the dawn of our relationship.

She is coming back Sunday to read her poems again, she said she wouldn’t miss it for the world. Graceful, beautiful Mary, coming out as a poet, taking the plunge, risking so much to bring her work out into the world. About Helen Golden and her friend coming up again to see us, and tell us how connected she feels to our work and our home.

It was about Jackie Thorne, a student in my writing class reading some very beautiful poems from her new book “Gone To Ground.” And Ed Gulley, our friend and dairy farmer selling so many of his sculptures and wooden flowers, a watershed for him and his emerging life as an artist who also runs a dairy farm. And Rachel Barlow, overcoming years of struggle and difficulty to bring her beautiful landscapes and prints and sell so many.

And Betty in her wheelchair, struggling across the lawn, all the way from Ohio to tell me how much my books had meant to her. And my cherished friend Ron Dotson, a war veteran and minister from the Midwest who has devoted  himself to doing good, and does so much. A quiet, gentle, unassuming man who doesn’t wish to bother me, who rarely contacts me, yet we love one another. I am always so grateful to see him, he pops up here and there.

The Open House was about Carol Law Conklin coming to talk about her beautiful batiks and scarves and prints. And the couple from New Jersey who drove up to tell me how much my book “Going Home: Finding Peace When Pets Die,” meant to them when their Lab Mitzi got bone cancer. And the couple from Minneapolis who came to say how much the words of encouragement we write on our blogs means to them.

I realized after she had left that the good nurse who draws my blood had come to see me at the Open House, I didn’t recognize her out of context and out of uniform. I looked for her everywhere – she came with her boyfriend – but they were gone. I wanted to give her a hug. I imagine I will get to see  her again.

And the woman from California who came to say “Running To The Mountain” inspired her own move to a cabin in the mountains. And the many people who read and support the blog and my books so faithfully, and who frequently corrected me about the dates and other details in my life that they knew better than I do.

I know what they mean when they say they are not worthy. I am not. When people tell me how much I mean to them, I blush with shame and cringe with uncertainty. I have so far to go.

I believe in being honest here, and the last Open House was in part a painful experience for me, a group of people I thought to be my friends, and professed to be my friends, were not, and they brought darkness and conflict to my idea of the Open House, and made me wonder if I had ruined it in some way.

I have worked through so many issues in my life, and have so many more to deal with. The betrayal of friends is a hard one for me, a shadow on my heart.

It is something to let go of, not to dwell on, but there it is. Some things are just hard. The shadow was  lifted today, I don’t think they will return. I feel cleansed, it is done. The Open House has found itself.  Sometimes, you just need to do nothing to right  yourself.

Today, everywhere we looked  we saw people who were inspired to be what they knew they could be. We have no magic wants to waver over the spirits of people, they have to free themselves.

Between three and four hundred people came to see us, they started coming at ll and began leaving at 4 p.m. People were gracious and uplifting all day.

They oohed and ahhed at Red and Fate, and love watching Fate’s spectacular outruns around the sheep. Fate is full of enthusiasm, her working goals are flexible.They crowded into Maria’s Schoolhouse Studio to look at the art she had so lovingly assembled.

Fate is a rock star, she is as much-loved for not really herding sheep as Red is for herding them so well.  And when I think of all those people screaming at border collies in all of those herding trials, I felt good about myself and grateful for her. I do learn, however slowly and painfully.

We brought visitors into the pasture to watch Jim McRae, our shearer, tell the story of shearing in words, poems, movement and body language. He was riveting, a wonderful performer as well as  a lover of sheep. This is a side of him I never saw before, and when I ask him about it, he simply says I never asked. This is true.

I will not make that mistake again.

And there was the buoyant  sight of Maria, holed up in the Studio Barn with her artists, all of them happy, connected, eager to talk about their art and share their day of encouragement and attention. Artists, like writers, work alone, and it is a gift to them to come out into the light, as it is for writers.

The crowd was just the right size, a steady flow of people, never overwhelming or too quiet.

And there was Cathy Stewart, who took time out of her very busy life and hard work to stand with me all day and help me deal with crowds, the schedule, gently nudged me to stop for lunch, brought me water, kept me focused. What have I done to deserve a gift like that? Her support alone changed the tenor of the Open House, made me feel on solid ground, gave me so much strength.

Cathy was enormously helpful, the schedule came out perfectly, one good thing after another with some breathing room in between.  She even chalked scheduled events on a blackboard. She is something that was needed.

We will take a breather and then, in a week or so, start planning for October, the bigger of the two Open Houses, slated for Columbus Day Weekend. Two years ago, just after my open heart surgery, I thought I would never get through the next Open House, but I did. I remember feeling so wobbly and light-headed in the sun, I did not feel that today.

I gave thanks today for how much stronger and healthier this surgery had made me .

So for many reasons, this Open House was an affirmation for me, turn to the light. It reminded me, and Maria, of what we are about, why we are here in the world living our lives and sharing them. Thanks to you all for that.

Maria asked me how I felt about, like me she wanted our Open Houses to return to their true purpose. I said it was perfect, it was a beautiful day. We are both so tired, it’s a good place to leave it. I have to pup up a few more photos, then sleep.