Two humans and a bunch of animals might live at Bedlam Farm, but the truth is, as always, more complicated. Lots of people live here, a score in fact; Maria and I are not just one person, but many people. We have a lot of other people here, including a small mob of Jon and Maria.

And we are often surprised, delighted, or edgy by the sudden and unpredictable appearance of another other.

I adore Maria, but I made the point this morning that she has never been the same Maria for more than an hour or so if that. She is the master of many moods. She says I’m the same way.

Fortunately, I love all of those moods (mostly.) I can’t speak for her.

She cracked up and said that she felt the same way; we are complex and inconsistent souls.

Who is this Maria?, I sometimes wonder. Who will be next? Maria says she wonders the same thing. We have learned to be flexible.

Life is constantly popping around here as two curious and intense people navigate a complex and intense world together. Issues also pop up whenever animals and a farm are involved. I decided to list Jons, and she offered to help me with mine.

I only knew which Maria I would see once we talked or encountered one another. She says the same thing. It keeps the relationship fertile and exciting; we are never bored with each other because our different selves can flip in a micro-second. There’s no chance to get bored with so many people at once.

I think our lives here are exciting, stimulating, challenging, and creative. We both say at least once a day how lucky we are to be here and how interesting we are to each other. We can never take anything for granted, which is healthy for me. I have learned to navigate this world of man-haters (donkeys included) and feminists with grace and appreciation.

There is usually only one Jon and Maria late at night, at least until sunrise.

I was joking about it this morning.

I said Maria and I are five or six or more people. Anyone can pop up or disappear instantly.

There’s Maria, the artist.  Maria the obsessive, Maria the workaholic, Maria the sweetest person in the world, Maria the lover of snails,  Maria the worrier, Maria Queen of the forest,  Maria the dancer, Maria the reader, Maria quiltmaker, Maria photographer, Maria videographer,  Maria the Potholder whiz, Maria writer, Maria the snail lover, Tarzana Maria, Maria the scrappy, Maria the moody, Maria the animal whisperer, Maria the wood stacker, Maria the man-hater (I am, after all, a man when all is said and done,) the Willa Cather Maria, Maria the dog and cat and animal lover,   Maria the defensive, and Maria the touchy.

I’m probably not the one to list the different me’s, but Maria is glad to help me out; bless her: I am Jon the minor celebrity, Jon the photographer, Jon the aging man, Jon the blogger, Jon the brooder, Jon the reader,  Jon the philosopher, Jon the author, Jon the dog and cat and donkey lover, Jon the writer, Jon the spiritual seeker,  Jon the distractable,  Jon the reader, Jon the impulsive,  Jon the reporter,  Jon the doer of good, Jon the nurturer (says Maria)  Jon the judgmental,  Jon the flower photographer, Jon the fighter, Jon the willful, Jon the hopeful, Jon the fearful, Jon the tough,  Jon the angry. (Thanks Maria, for your help. We’ll talk later.)

There are more Marias than Jon’s, but I am not walking in the park. There is no one me. I can flip on a dime. I’m in therapy. She’s not.

I have to stop. I’m afraid the list could get even longer. It’s interesting to have so many others on our small farm. It must be tough on the dogs. It reminds me of my city life.

We cover a lot of ground.

Every day is an adventure in love.