Mimi

Our good friend and oldest cat Midnight was hit by a car last night or this morning and died. His name is  Midnight, but we usually called him Mimi.

He was big and black and beautiful. He came to us from the animal shelter when he was a little kitten, about 7 years ago. He was very shy with people and also very dignified. It took a long time to get him to come to you, and only a few rare people other than us, his family, befriended him. Nicu was one of those people.

We all felt sick about it when Ed called after he got to work this morning and said that he saw a big black cat that he thought was Mimi about half a mile from our house, on Rt 275, which a busy road. We were hoping that it wasn't him, but when Ed brought him home we all knew it was.

One thought that came into my head was "I hate cars", because I needed someone or something to blame. Then I thought, "We should not let the cats be outdoors". The girls said that too, and then we all knew that keeping them indoors is not the answer. Would they have a longer life? Most likely. Would they have a better life? We all thought no. Right now, our cats are free to come and go as they please. This is their home, here with us, and they certainly enjoy lying on the couch for hours on end in the winter, but they are also wild, and love to roam and hunt. There's a dead mouse on our front steps right now, and we all thought that maybe this was Mimi's last gift to us. We always find dead birds and rodents near the house, which the cats leave for us after their hunts.

Mimi often came home with leaves and burrs and other things from the woods stuck to him. Sometimes he came home with a new scar from a fight he'd been in. When I held him, I often thought, "Mimi, if you could only tell us of the places you've been to and the things you've seen". But the old quote is true: "If cats could speak, they wouldn't". His presence was enough, and I really felt that it was an honor that as wild as he was, he would come to us and snuggle and let us hold him and pet him. He would never do that with any human unless he really trusted them. So it was really special. I always felt like with him, I was holding a little bit of the wildness.

We'll miss him for sure this winter. During the warm weather we'd see him maybe once a day, sometimes not for 3 or 4 days, when he went to who knows where. But in the winter, he'd always come to the house and sleep on the armchairs or the couch.

What I want to say to him is "Thank you Mimi, for your life, and for being part of our lives. We will not forget you".

Here he is lying near me as I rested in front of the house one day last summer.

Peace

Giving Tuesday

I think that many of us would like to do more for environmental justice and social justice and other worthy causes, but for various reasons we can't. So I think that in that case, donating to a respectable organization that does good work is a good alternative. To me, NRDC (Natural Resources Defense Council) is a good organization, doing work that benefits all of us. Sena has been working with them to help the whales and the oceans, and as I got to know them, I was very impressed by the scope of the work they do, as well as their openness and generosity and support towards us when we went to meet with hem at their headquarters in NYC last summer.

Today NRDC has a special drive, and if you donate to them your donation will be matched and doubled. I just donated and wanted to encourage anyone who feels moved to, to do it too. There will be difficult times ahead, with Trump coming into office, and NRDC will have an important place in standing up for environmental and social justice.

Peace

True

I wrote this in my journal the other day: "Be true to myself instead of to what is expected of me".
Then I realized: No, that's not it.

Instead, I'm going for the trickier "Be true to myself AND to what is expected of me". Which, I don't know if it's possible.

But I'm pretty sure that I'm well on my own to ditching being true to only what is expected of me. Even though that's the only way I've known most of my life. And even though it feels terrifying to try something else.

Peace

A place called Bradet

When I was small, my mom was assigned to work in a small village in Arges county, Romania. She was to work as a doctor and also be the director of a hospital in Bradet, a position she held for a few years. Even though I was only about 5-years-old at that time, and even though the rest of my life I grew up in cities, those years in Bradet turned out to have a really significant effect my life. I think that they gave me my love of natural surroundings, and eventually pulled me back to farming and the land.

We visited Bradet when we were in Romania this past October. Not much has changed since 40 years ago, so the girls were able to see it more or less as I knew it.

This is the river,Valsan, in which I spent countless hours playing with my sister and friends.

My grandmother, Bunica, would come with us sometimes, and taught us how to braid a type of grass that grew on the meadows by the river. We used to make decorations out of it. The grass still grows and I was able to show the girls a little of what I remebered.

 They braided the grass into head bands

This is the little bridge I had to cross every evening when my mom would send me to the village to get some fresh milk from an old man with a cow.

Valsan river and the hospital on the right. The hospital served a much larger region than the small village of Bradet. People came from all over the country and spent time here to recuperate from their ailments.

 A village water well

Typical village house gate

 One of the meadows we spent much time playing on

Village house

 Hay stacked to feed the animals through the winter

Peace

Fibonacci series - out in the garden

A type of cauliflower I planted this year just because it looks so cool. Plus it would give me a chance to bring up the Fibonacci sequence in homeschooling.

Thanksgiving and the holidays

Here we are the day before Thanksgiving, which I feel is bringing in the holiday season with all the family get-togethers and other holiday stuff. My feelings are divided.
I love the holidays. I love what Thanksgiving means, the chance to openly and publicly express gratitude. I love the coziness of Christmas, and the cheer, and the white snow, and the long nights with low light and cozy fire in the wood stove. I love the smell of the Christmas tree. Some of my best childhood memories have to do with Christmas. These are beautiful traditions that to me are very personal, and I like to share them in a personal way.
But I also dread some aspects of these holidays: the big parties, where I always feel like I have to put on a smile and compare what my kids are doing with everyone else's kids, and pretend that my marriage is great, and everything in my life is perfect, and watch people's eyes dart away as the end of their attention span nears if I attempt to engage in more genuine conversation. I don't like to listen to people brag about their latest job, car, house items, and so on, or to partake in gossip about whoever's not there, and stand by and watch as some people get drunk and obnoxious. I also don't like to see all the food wasted at these events.

I've tried in the past to regard the whole thing as an anthropological experiment, but it didn't quite work. I'm afraid I am becoming antisocial. But I just can't bear the pretense, and it's even worse when I go along with it and be polite and make inane conversation. It makes me feel drained.

So before attending these events, I try to prepare myself by going out into the field, or anywhere with trees, and filling myself up with whatever it is that I find out there that sustains me: fresh air, the smell of earth, etc. I try to remind myself not to get lost in negativity when I'm at the party, not to judge, but just be myself. We'll see how that works this year.

Peace

Important skills that many of us are not taught

Brene Brown on Empathy

 Peace

Bed time reading from one of my favorite poets

Faults
by Sara Teasdale

They came to tell your faults to me,
They named them over one by one,
I laughed aloud when they were done;
I knew them all so well before,-
Oh they were blind, too blind to see
Your faults had made me love you more.

My real day

I follow some people on Instagram and other social media, and sometimes it just strikes me that so many of us are portraying our lives as perfect, and leaving out the not so great stuff (I know I've done it many times). Everyone in some way or another wants to prove that whatever they're doing or saying, or the way they're living, is cool, and I guess that's why we follow them, otherwise it would be kind of boring right? Well, anyway, at the risk of being boring or worse, I'll share what a real day, today, looked like for me.

• I slept poorly last night and got up groggy and cranky;
• We had a big Thanksgiving farm sale all morning, so I had to get up and help Ed set up for it, even though I really wanted to stay in bed and sleep;
• Ed and I had an argument just before customers were supposed to arrive.
• I went out to the field to milk the cows;
• Ed came after me and we argued some more;
• In the meantime, our worker showed up. He was here to prune the raspberries and do other things that needed to be done.
• I did not feel like talking to anyone, but had to talk to him to tell him what to do. 
• Finally Ed and I worked things out
• Then the customers started coming and Ed and I and the girls were all helping and talking to people at various times.
• I had my breakfast late, then started cooking for the rest of the day. It is Ed's mom's birthday today, and she's not feeling well, so we were going to go see her and bring food. I decided not to go, so that I could rest, but was happy to make the food.
• The rest of the day was cooking and cleaning and cow chores.
• I had a nice lunch by myself, hidden behind a pile of woodchips, outside in the sun. Then I read my cheese book for half an hour.
• Sometime in there the kids needed to be picked up from a playdate
• Ed and I got some time to sit and have a regular talk for about 15 minutes
• Then everyone left and I am home alone
• I still feel tired, but really glad to have time alone, and for the rest of the evening, before the kids and Ed get home, I plan to relax watching Russian history videos and drinking hot cacao, sweetened with special honey from Nicu

That's my real day.
Peace

how to "fail better"

from the great Pema Chodron. I needed to read this article this morning. Here is an excerpt:

“Fail better” means you begin to have the ability to hold what I call “the rawness of vulnerability” in your heart, and see it as your connection with other human beings and as a part of your humanness. Failing better means when these things happen in your life, they become a source of growth, a source of forward, a source of, “out of that place of rawness you can really communicate genuinely with other people.”

Your best qualities come out of that place because it’s unguarded and you’re not shielding yourself. Failing better means that failure becomes a rich and fertile ground instead of just another slap in the face.

on "the path"

my sister shared this great article about "the path", and i pulled out some bits here, but the whole thing is well worth reading.
 

"All the places we go when the path gets too rocky and exhausting and brutal and beautiful are dead end detours. If you take these detours you are not bad, but you are wasting your time and energy. Come back to the path. There’s no other way.

There is no solid ground on the path – so don’t hold your breath till you find it. Breathe deeply and keep moving forward awkwardly. You can make it down the whole path imbalanced and flailing. When you fall, give thanks for the opportunity to rest. While you’re down, send love to every other path walker who’s down with you at that moment. Then get back up. Or crawl.

Your fellow travelers are your teachers and students. Your relationships with them will be the hardest part of path-walking. To avoid humbling oneself into the role of student and courag-ing oneself into the role of teacher – many try to walk the path alone. But the path was not designed for solo treks. The path was designed to teach Love. Whenever you introduce your true self to a fellow path traveler and listen and speak and learn and stay with her for a while- that is called Love. Walking With and Staying With messy fellow path travelers for any length of time is Love. Love is the most brutal and beautiful part of path traveling. Participate. Learn from and teach every path traveler you encounter. Exchanging love with fellow path travelers is how we gather the wisdom and strength we’ll need to overcome the next obstacle on our path. Note – You do not teach by teaching- you teach by loving. Be humble and courageous."

Peace

by Walt Whitman

O Me! O Life!

Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring,

Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish,

Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)

Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d,

Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me,

Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,

The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?

                                       Answer.

That you are here—that life exists and identity,

That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.

A small village near the border of Italy and Austria

I'm kind of embarrassed to admit this, but I'm already pining for the mountains. I mean, I am grateful for everything that I have here, and I do not underestimate how lucky I am, but there's just something about the mountains that really pulls on me. I love mountains whether they're stark and uninhabited, or peppered with small villages and alpine pastures. One thing I really liked about northern Italy and Austria was how well the wild and the domestic blended together. In the mountain villages we saw, it felt like people did what they had to to live, and took what they needed, while at the same time respecting and maintaining the natural ecosystem.

These pictures were taken near the border of Italy and Austria, in a little village we took detoured through.

Little truck used to collect recyclables. So cute!

Village square

Small shop with cured meats and cheeses

The road leading into the village

View of another village from the road

Panorama of mountain farms and lush alpine pastures. You can see the cows resting on the left of the picture.

And this is the view of the highway we traveled on, connecting Italy and Austria through Brenner Pass. Those rows you see in the foreground are all cultivated grapes.

Peace

Zematis

I made Zematis, a fresh cheese that Nicu taught me in Romania. It is also called Topfen in Austria (as I found out in a cheese book I am currently reading). It is probably the easiest cheese to make. Here's what I did:

• I milked the cows
• I left the raw milk on the counter for 2 days to sour
• I skimmed off the cream that rose on top (and enjoyed it - it was very decadent. I used it to sour some chicken soup I made, and also just ate it straight off the spoon 'cuz it's that good)
• I cut the curd into cubes and warmed it on low heat for about 20 min
• I drained and hung the curds until it was solid enough to my liking,about 6 hrs
• I sprinkled the resulting cheese with salt and pepper 

I share this for fun more than as a recipe, and I actually do not encourage you to try it unless you have your own raw milk from your own animals, and are confident that the animals are healthy and the milk is clean. Due to the microbiology of milk and cheese, this recipe will not work with pasteurized milk, or even raw milk that has been refrigerated. If you leave pasteurized milk on the counter for 2 days, it will spoil and make you sick. If anyone is interested in more details about this, I'd be happy to share.

Here is the result

This morning, I sat under my favorite tree, and had some of the cheese with elderberry jam made by a friend, and pecans. And coffee in my special mug from Romania. A cozy breakfast.

Enjoy this beautiful sunny day!
Peace

RIP Leonard Cohen

He understood the ambiguity of the human heart so well. He made beautiful music that reached me, personally, on many levels. I am so grateful for his life and presence, for what he gave of himself to the rest of us.

He sang of light and shadow; he sang about the yearning of romantic love and spiritual love and how the two intersect. In that way, he is much like Rumi. Thank you so much for shining your unique light in this world, Leonard Cohen.



"In My Secret Life"

I saw you this morning.
You were moving so fast.
Can’t seem to loosen my grip
On the past.
And I miss you so much.
There’s no one in sight.
And we’re still making love
In My Secret Life.

I smile when I’m angry.
I cheat and I lie.
I do what I have to do
To get by.
But I know what is wrong,
And I know what is right.
And I’d die for the truth
In My Secret Life.

Hold on, hold on, my brother.
My sister, hold on tight.
I finally got my orders.
I’ll be marching through the morning,
Marching through the night,
Moving cross the borders
Of My Secret Life.

Looked through the paper.
Makes you want to cry.
Nobody cares if the people
Live or die.
And the dealer wants you thinking
That it’s either black or white.
Thank God it’s not that simple
In My Secret Life.

I bite my lip.
I buy what I’m told:
From the latest hit,
To the wisdom of old.
But I’m always alone.
And my heart is like ice.
And it’s crowded and cold
In My Secret Life.

You can count on me!

Regardless who is president, my allegiance remains to the land that nourishes and supports us. The land that gives me solace in times of trouble. This earth and the life it supports is the only thing I can honestly pledge my allegiance to.

What to do?

Take the time acknowledge and accept how you feel.
Seek to understand what is.
Then keep moving, led by the light in your heart, guided by your inner knowing and by your best understanding of what is right and good. That is all you can do.

Peace

The cows and I are in today's Hartford Courant

I'm not sure if Jasmine would be honored to know that she and her calf made it in the newspaper on election day! Maybe Trump and Clinton should be honored. Jasmine is pretty cool. She'd make a better president.

Mark Mirko, photographer at The Hartford Courant, was driving by yesterday morning, when he saw me out in the field milking Jasmine. He stopped the car, walked over to the pasture and asked me if he could take some pictures for the newspaper. I said yes, and continued my milking while he took pictures. Then we talked about the cows and farming for a while. Mark is very thoughtful and nice to talk to. I  knew him from before - he did a story on our farm a few years ago, also for the Hartford Courant, and he was in our CSA in 2015. It made me happy to see him again and share news of the farm with him .
Here is his picture in today's paper.

Tree lessons

It is so easy to see the beauty of trees at this time of the year, when they seem to draw our attention, and make it impossible not to notice, decked as they are in their most glorious attire.

I love trees. They inspire, teach and comfort me so much. When I feel afraid or insecure, I look at a tree and how it stands there, not trying to pretend to be anything other than what it is. Not comparing itself to others; not feeling inferior or superior, just being what it is, whether young and slender, old and gnarly, split in half by lightening or whatever may be. The story of its life is sometimes plain to see, other times, not. But whatever it may look like, to me a tree is always beautiful and unique.

Also, trees teach me to relax and allow myself to be vulnerable. As my amazing teacher Bert said last night at the lodge "There's little hate in the world. But there is much fear." So true. I and we are all so afraid, and I think that fear is ultimately about being vulnerable. Yet the thing most of us want and need, whether we know it or not, the only thing that can heal us as a person as as a world, is love, and love requires us to be vulnerable. When I look at a tree, I see how vulnerable it is: to the forces of nature, and to the forces of human destruction. And yet it stands, and lives whatever its sort in life may be, dignified and beautiful.

Peace

Beauty and Pointless Destruction

" One can fight for goodness in many ways. One way of serving it is by inculcating a sense of goodness in people." Olga Berggolts

The Flower Seller Of Aleppo certainly does that. Although it is very tragic, his story also has beauty and goodness in it and that, to me, rises above everything else. I just hope that his son will also be able to feel that at some point.

Northern Italy

Flying in over the Alps I got so excited I leaned over and practically squished Aiyana who had the window seat. I think I got a few other people on the plane to be excited enough to at least look out the window...

On the ground, narrow streets typical of small villages

 Olive groves everywhere

Driving around Lago di Garda, with views so spectacular that James Bond movies were shot here.

 Crazy tunnels cut through the mountains, some of them a mile long

View of Lago di Garda from the mountains surrounding it, with small villages at the bottom and cultivated fields

 The center of the village of Brentonico, near where we stayed

 Our beautiful, spotless apartment in the hills of the little village of Cazzano di Brentonico

 Tight, very tight drive to our apartment. We were worried about scraping our (small) rental car.

 Driving to Avio castle in our rental car

Cobble stone road

 Aiyana in an olive grove

Avio castle

Views from Avio castle

Those mountains... enough to make me swoon

Stairway inside the castle.

Sena said this would be a good setting for a love scene

Village house

I absolutely loved this view from the balcony of our apartment. We were perched up on the side of a mountain, above the clouds and birds. I could've stayed there for a long, long time, just looking down over the valley and neighbouring mountains, breathing in that crisp mountain air and enjoying the silence, punctuated now and then only by bird song and dogs barking.

Little villages we could see from our balcony

Peace