The Dream

A few years ago, while visiting my parents in Upper Arlington, I stopped at the local library on the way out of town. As it often does, the library was having a book sale. I cannot resist books for a buck or less, and so am compelled to buy anything that might remotely interest me or anyone I know. During this chance book buying spree, I saw a book titled "The Garden", by an author named H.A. Hartwick. Given the sketch on the book's jacket, I took it to be a gardening book and picked it up for Jess.

As it turned out the book is more philosophy than botany. After Jess updated me as to the nature of the book, I picked it up and loved it. In fact, I cannot recall a writer whose world-view I more closely parallel. That book served as a co-catalyst for the home movies I made which showcased Jessica's garden (the other catalysts being Jessica and her garden).

My B.A. is in philisophy, and my curiosity regarding Hartwick was piqued. Why had I not read him before? Even heard of him? Inside the book I found references to another of the author's books, this one entitled "The Dream." I had to have it, but couldn't find it?! Laura did, and she gave it to me as a gift prior to us moving to the farm. I've read it several times, and was doing so again during my recent business travels. This time through, I was amazed to discover a couple passages which had previously escaped my scrutiny.

Briefly, I'll tell you that Hartwick is a proponent of the idea that the world as we know it is truly dreamlike; the author suggests that this world cannot be real, but is fundamentally illusory (and must be so). Regardless, Hartwick recognizes that paradox is inescapably sewn into the fabric of this dream, such that we must live in it while simultaneously recognizing its falsity. To that end, Hartwick offers the following:

"Resign yourself to me, says the dream, as do trees, rain, earth, the ocean, and the air. Be like the cloud that floats because it can't help it. Be like the bird that sings for the same reason the cloud floats: because it must. No longer view events in terms of victory and defeat, but act as if these two ideas never existed. Mark out the area you can live in contentedly; then live within it, remaining quietly composed and attentive, no longer tormenting or rejecting the world (which may as easily bring us good as bad). Feel your life flow of itself, as the sea moves and the flower blooms, letting the world hold you in its arms, never struggling too hard to be good or bad, not fearing sadness too much, or wanting happiness too much, walking softly, and hurting nothing if you can help it. Remembering how many things have given up their lives that you may live, live so their sacrifice is not wasted. And knowing that you own nothing here, that you made nothing, that everything is merely lent to you, that all power is from beyond this dream. that no object here is real or belongs to you or anyone else --be kind. For whatever you do that is kind gives this dream a meaning --even if it proves to have no other."

Having no moved onto the farm, that passage takes on new meaning. As does this, as well:

"Strive for the effortless faith of animals, 'the dreams of nature' that live in 'the holy carelessness of the eternal now.' (George Macdonald) In them shine the immaculate, the undefiled beauty of life. They demand nothing, expect no praise, go quietly about their lives without fretting, open to the world as men are not, never hiding their life within...Their innocence is invulnerable. Nothing can overcome their trust, not the whole universe. It is absolute. See the bravery, the...throat tightening cheerfulness of birds in the face of their small fate: alone in the thrashing hedge at night in a storm, clinging to a branch, huddled against the rain, wind and darkens. In this huge mystery, they understand even less than we do, yet remain faithful to their duty and nature, never weeping, or questioning, but perfect in their acquiescence to the will that implacably urges birds, like men, through the world."

Upon reflection, it seems crazy to me now how and when those books found me. And a special thanks to Laura for finding the elusive "Dream."

Bloggin' from the Queen City

Quick update as I sit here in the Cincy airport. This week in death: another sheep died (Aunt Jemima), and some dickless, gutless, talentless, heartless, sociopathic, good-for-nothing, hillbilly, redneck, squirrel-eating, sibling-humping, in-bred, buck toothed, NASCAR watching, mountain dew drinking, mesh hat wearing retard shot our peahen. When confronted by Jessica after storming the adjacent field Braveheart-style and conquering the wild and very dangerous 5 pound bird, this waste of DNA really proved his manhood by hiking up his skirt and tearing off on his truck before Jess could get a plate number. Not a good day on the farm.

The sheep was just old. Died in the water bowl. I suspect it was a hit, but none of the animals are talking. Toby is acting suspicious...

Gotta catch my flight. Peace.

Office 2.0

Getting unpacked in the office - whew!  Good gawd this process consumes inordinate chunks of time.  Jess got nearly all the books, files and pictures unpacked.  I helped out mostly by maintaining a vigilant guard of the internet connection, safe behind the confines of my homemade desk.  Some might ask, "how is that of any help at all?"  To those people, I would kindly ask them to mind their own business.  It's an important job.

Here's a quick pick of the progress, with a link to a few more.

Toby-roping and sheep compost.

The vet came out earlier this week to give the animals a once over.  Everybody got their shots, with two exceptions: Toby and Dead Sheep.  Toby escaped the needle because the vet couldn't achieve the requisite proximity; Dead Sheep was, well, dead, and so was also spared.  The vet tells us we need to work with Toby so that we can get close enough to do this:


That looks fun.  Having dealt with Toby for a few months now, I can't help but think that getting the rope on him will not be the problem.  No, I'm more concerned with what happens post-roping.  The vet tells us llamas are strong kickers.  Having seen Toby punt the recently-departed Grommet  like a football, I'm buying what the vet is selling.  So we rope the llama, then what?  And how do we get the rope off?  I'm wondering if my time isn't better spent learning how to operate a tranquilizer gun. 


The vet also gave us advise regarding what to do with our recently deceased sheep: compost.  Ashes to ashes, sheep to dust.  Sounds a little weird, but I did find an article corroborating this idea here.  After talking with another vet, and doing some reading, it appears the places that render dead animals don't accept sheep and goats because of the potential for contamination.  Other than burying the sheep, we don't have many other options.  We'll see.  The first morning I wake up to find the dogs gnawing on recently unearthed sheep, I'm renting a back hoe.  

Trimmin' Hooves

You know things in your life are different when this makes your Christmas list:

First, and most importantly, let me be clear: I found this picture on the web.  I did not take this picture, and I had no part in anything having to do with it.  That said, this contraption would be helpful.  We did a pretty good f'n job for first-timers.  Maybe what...two or three bleeders?  Most walked away not leaving a trail blood (sorry Lilly, sheep...1 and....2).   A couple of the sheep suffered what looked like little sheep panic attacks, complete with hyperventilation and frantic scrambling.  The drama is ridiculous.  Stop it, already.  You're sheep.  Sheep.

But seriously, that picture is funny.

Anyway, and for real this time, we did trim hooves and we did a very good job.  I cut deep on a couple hooves, but overall the project went well.  A couple of the sheep really REALLY needed the work.  So glad we got to them.  Goats are relatively cooperative.  Pigs hooves don't need it.

Oh yeah, almost forgot.  Check out the layers of (actual) shit we have to clean out of this stall:

Banner Explanation

For Laura (I love that you "follow" us) and anyone else who might check in every once in a while, I want to explain the ever changing banner at the top of the blog.  I like to change it often to keep things fresh, and there are so many fascinating pics to be taken of this place.  Specifically, the current banner is a wrap-around.  To give it some perspective, imagine printing the picture on a piece of paper shaped like a yard stick.  Now connect the ends of the yard stick to make a loop, and then imagine placing the looped-pic around your head like a pair of 360-degree sunglass.  This isn't a panoramic shot, it's a 360 shot, such that the right and left ends of the pic should connect to complete the 360-degree view.  I love it.  Man, it was such a beautiful day, too.  Oh, and for those who read this post post-banner change, you can find the banner which is the subject of this banter here.

Peahen

Peahen, you're still there!  For those of you who don't know, this peahen was part of the farm when we bought it.   She was raised by chickens, and lived amongst them for a couple years.  However, shortly after we bought the place, some combination of hawks and raccoons took care of the chickens, leaving the peahen without her peeps.  Recently she has re-emerged from the woods accross the way, alerting us to her presence with the call you can hear in the video.  This morning I saw the peahen back in our yard, flapping for her life as Luna reminded her that this side of the fence is Luna Land.  So the question is: how do we get the peahen back?

Fort1E: Now with heat!

Click here for some pics of the new work!

Toby and the Mist

A poor man's panoramic shot of a random October morning.  Toby was kind enough to stay still.  And yes, Jessica, I said "and," not "in."