“Heather: I recently landed with a whump and three dogs in Northern Vermont after 20 years in CO. I feel a pang of loss at all the old, dignified village buildings left to fend for themselves on the edge of a curb they never asked for. I imagine they feel lonely and without purpose, when they once bustled with life.”

Heather summed up my feelings about this beautiful house perfectly, it sits a few feet from a major highway on the edge of a curve it never asked for. Many of them are no longer with purpose, but they have kept their beauty and still can stir the soul.

Thanks for all of the good words and thoughts about my pictures.

I feel as if I am returning to my roots and my purpose. I need to believe that my life is important and that other people might find it interesting. Your very kind words help.

I took this failing barn shot yesterday, the sun was right over the phone pole.

I see that very few people or farmers tear barns down, or mark their passage. They permit them to fall in their own time, one day they are simply gone.

A barn gets no credit or appreciation for the work it does, the shelter it gave, the things it stored and housed. They made many lives possible.

Barns are expected to go quietly into the night,  and when they are gone, nobody remembers them or thinks of them.

I love getting the sun into these pictures, to me, it gives them a holy, spiritual edge.

 

I’ve driven by our town’s tiny airport – the headquarters of the Cambridge Valley Flying Club – twice in the past couple of days, twice as much as I have driven there before, even though it is just a mile or so away.

I would dearly love to fly in a plane. I called once and asked if I could join, but I was rejected on many counts – too old, heart disease, etc.  Maybe one of the members will give me a ride one day. I love the look and feel of this airport, it’s the size of a Little League Baseball FIeld, a few hangers, four or five small planes.

There is a big sign out on the highway a quarter-mile from the airport with a symbol of a jumbo jet and it says “Airport.” Rural America may be grumpy these days, but we still do have a sense of humor as long as we get away from politics.

 

I love this beautiful old farmhouse, so white and perfect and framed by these beautiful trees.

This, of course, is how one knows it is not a real working farm. No real farm looks anything like this, it is too crisp and polished and perfect. I’ve never seen a real farm that isn’t a bit cruddy.

I am no farmer and could not survive long doing that work. But in a sense, Bedlam Farm is a working farm. The farmers always ask me how I make a living and I tell them that the animals and their stories are our crop. They get it and always say the same thing: “If you can make it on a farm telling stories, bless you.” It surprises them, but most of them also respect it.

They don’t grudge anyone with a successful farm that isn’t up to its neck in debt.

We sell the sheep of the wool and my work and income come in part from photographing and writing about our animals. In one sense, they are the heart and soul of what we do here.

But I’m sure some of the locals would consider me what they call a “Gentleman Farmer,” I don’t think it’s a compliment or take it that way.

And in many ways, we are grungy enough to pass for a real farm, and our animals are all working creatures, no pets in the pasture.

This farmhouse above is gorgeous and I loved the way the house stands out in the light and glows. It is good to see a farmhouse preserved in that way.

 

I love our trees in the back of the house. To me, they are always reaching up to the skies, pleading, exhorting, protesting, loving. Trees talk and feel, I sense it from looking at them, talking to them, listening.

This afternoon I was reading from Thomas Merton’s Book Of Trees:

“The beauty of the walnut tree at the end of the novitiate wall. More beautiful still because of the dead-end of the branches that reach out, stark and black, from the rich foliage and gesture against the sky and the hills.”

“Driving down through the redwoods was indescribably beautiful…There is one long stretch where the big trees have been protected and saved – like a completely primeval forest. Everything from the big firms at the base of the trees, the dense undergrowth, the long enormous shafts towering endlessly in shadow penetrated here and there by light. A most moving place, like a cathedral.”

I drove by my friends, the horses, and had to stop and talk to them (I confess to having some apples with me)take one more picture, these creatures are so beautiful, they remind me of why I am here and why I can never go back. I might never see them again.

Thanks for following my excursions into my world. As always, these photos are free and can be used in any way you wish – paintings, screen savers, things to print out and stick on your wall. No charge.