I think of Ed often, but if I didn’t, I would be reminded of the four or five windchimes and sculptures he sold or gave us to keep on the farm. When I do think of Ed, a great friend and farmer, I imagine he is up somewhere in the sky yelling the angels about mike prices and complaining that the government hasn’t raised them since 1980. I know this speech by heart; Ed delivered it all our open houses.

Ed had many schemes in his head; one of them was becoming an artist full-time.

He was a good and close friend, I often turned to him for help, and I was honored that he asked me to come and visit with him just about every day when he got sick and until he died. We talked and laughed and kidded each other right to the end.

Ed was brave and wise. He refused to let the health care system carve him up in pieces. He knew his cancer was not curable, and when he was ready, hospice came in and help him die in comfort and peace. He had courage and vision.

The photo shows one of Ed’s last windchimes, he was very creative about re-thinking old farm tools and implements and turning them into art. He rescued all kinds of animals, from raccoons to hawks and wild dogs.

He was a natural artist and hoped to turn to art when he was done with farming. His barns were full of things he wanted to turn into wind chimes and sculptures.

He said he wanted me to write a book about him, but I said no one would confuse him with Winston Churchill and buy a book about him or read one. He roared with laughter.

I was a little bitter when Ed died, I have not made many good friends in my life, Ed was perhaps the best. We could not possibly have been more different, or more alike. He could be tough and surprisingly sentimental. There is no one like him.

I will always remember him carrying a newborn calf he had just pulled out of a cow all the way across a huge pasture to keep him warm and dry. He loves his pet chicken, an ancient hen he built a pen for so she could be safe.

Ed didn’t get the chance to work full time on his art and have the art show he was planning. Maria was his Art Guru, she loved him and he trusted her completely.

He’s gone and we miss him, but he did leave these beautiful and unique pieces behind. TThe snow silences this one, but we often hear the chimes inside the farmhouse. Whenever I listen to them, I say “hey, Ed,” I am sure he’s yelling at me about one thing or another.

We could always be absolutely honest with one another.

I went out to take a photo of his last wind chime. Hey Ed.