Florence Walrath’s spirit has never left our farm, but her Irises always remind of her fierce country spirit.

She planted these Irises a long time ago, we have made sure to make room for them and care for them. They are the only flowers from her garden that still bloom.

I didn’t know Florence well, but she led us to the farm. I was driving by the farmhouse and noticed that one of the farm’s two barns had collapsed in a snowstorm.

An old pony stood in front of it. I pulled into the driveway and knocked. Florence came to the door, she was about 100 years old then and had lived in the farmhouse for more than 80 years.

When she came to the door, I asked her if I could take a photo of the pony.

“Sure,” she said, “but he’s blind and I’m deaf. We are just riding it out together.”

I took the photo and then brought Maria to meet the pony, Florence said it was okay if we brushed him, she hadn’t been able to do it for a long time. It was clear she wanted some help, but couldn’t really ask.

The pony had a tough reputation as a biter and grump, but he loved Maria.

It was amazing to see how he navigated the farm without eyesight or shelter, or even standing fences in some parts of the pasture.

We spent the next year or so visiting Rocky, brushing him, bring him some extra feed.

Of course, he was easy around Maria, who brushed him and talked to him. He lived for a year or so after we moved in.

He loved the attention. He was very old, and Simon, our rescue donkey, kept trying to run him off of the farm. It was too much stress for Rocky, and we decided to euthanize him. The vet said the winter would be too much for him, this would be a mercy

One day I came to the farm and Florence opened the door. She said she wanted to say goodbye. She had fallen down the stairs. I just assumed she was going to a nursing home.

She died soon after. She was 102.

Everyone who knew her said there was no way she was going to leave her farmhouse.

Florence was tough. Workmen told me if they were five minutes late, she would ask them to leave and would find somebody else. She was a passionate horse over and left behind a memoir about her sometimes very hard life.

She personified the community, difficulties, and challenges of country life, and I am always happy to see her Irises come up in May.

The farmhouse will always be hers in my mind unless Maria lives to be 102. That is entirely possible.