FALL FUNGI 2

FALL FUNGI

GOODBYE MOLLY, OUR GOOD, GOOD 'OLE FARM DOG AND MY BEST FRIEND

As I sit down to write this post, I can look out the window and see Molly's resting place underneath the chestnut tree in the side yard. Her life on Earth ended yesterday, and she left us to soar with the spirits and join the other animals who have been such a part of our lives here at The Farm...She's in good company, for sure...

Twelve years ago about this time of year, I went to see two corgi puppies who lived with some not so nice humans across the field from where Eliza took riding lessons. Her instructor knew we were considering a dog, and Kara, one who would never, ever turn a critter away, mentioned we might want to help these little ones out. When I spoke to the man who had them, I told him I was interested in a puppy, and he proceeded to tell me that if I didn't take both dogs, he'd just "tie a rock around the other one's neck and toss it in the pond" He needed to "get rid of them both, one way or another." The next day, Sam went to get both Annie and Molly, and by the next morning, Samuel and Eliza had decided both puppies had to stay at The Farm. How could we separate the sisters??

As a little puppy, Molly's long nose and tail quickly distinguished her from her sister. Her little belly was so bloated when she arrived she looked like she weighed a ton, but from the get-go, Molly's smile shone, despite her discomfort and malnutrition. Over the years, she and Annie would comb the farm from one end to the other and make enough noise in the night to incite the neighbors to call the dog warden (!). Like geese in flight, the corgi sisters knew instinctively in which direction to run, when to change course and how to accelerate like greased lightening after everything from a fox to a mole. With her long nose that proved to be quite advantageous when burrowing, Molly holds The Farm record for most moles brought in from the back field. Since Rufus's arrival, she spent many afternoons with him out in the field, teaching him about "mole-ing."

After Sam moved away and when I was alone here, Molly hung by my side constantly. She and Annie became my housemates, and we talked to each other, sang songs, and danced all over the house. On some mornings, Molly would wake up in a goofy mood and would run back and forth through the house with a huge smile on her face while I would sing, "Molly's a silly....Molly is a silly." Finally, she would stop for a breath and laugh hard, ears turned back and nose to the sky.

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Other great Molly memories come to mind at the moment:

The day she treed a raccon up a telephone pole and wouldn't EVEN begin to think about coming in for food or sleep. She stayed there a good 48 hours, determined to outlast the patient raccoon.

The day she got her head stuck in the railings on the back porch., Tom came over and was ready to dismantle a rail when Molly jerked her head right back out.

The trip to Boone from Lexington one Christmas when she got carsick and used a vomit bag Samuel managed to stick in front of her.

The many evenings I would call her and Annie to come in. Annie usually obeyed while Molly would turn to look at me, laugh and take off in the other direction.

The day she tried to take down a Great Dane and Mastiff at the same time because they attacked Annie.

The many afternoons I would find her and Annie with Eliza, who had dressed them up in some sort of costume or baby clothes. Molly's Halloween costume now goes to Rufus.

Molly with an old bagel, hot dog bun, or piece of bread in her mouth that she'd carry around and guard for days.

Watching her come running to me when I'd come home from work with a huge cow patty in her mouth time after time after time.

The time Sunday night when Eliza, Molly, and I were alone in my bedroom in silence as Eliza shared her love with Molly.

Her love for Annie and Annie's love for her. With the exception of an occasional hour here and there, they were never apart.

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As opposed to the rest of her entire life, the past two weeks have been hard ones as cancerous tumors overtook her body, weakened her and robbed her of her ability to walk, eat and seek water without struggle. As difficult as the process was to experience, I am grateful to have been there every step of the way with her, and I am honored that I could hold her head in my arms and let her bury her head in my chest as she drew her last breath. She drifted away in my arms, and I felt her spirit take flight. It wasn't easy, and I cried hard. I am so grateful to Joe and Tom who made it possible for me to be totally with her during the process and who cared for us both before and afterwards with love and tenderness.

When we put Molly in the Earth, I made a bed of bright yellow leaves for her to rest upon, and we covered her with a baby blanket and more leaves. Annie watched from the flower bed a few feet away, and Hendrix (channeling Samuel there to be with us, I'm sure) leaned up against me as we placed the soil back on top of her. Rufus was at our side as well, and the other cats sauntered by as we worked.

As I was sitting alone in the warmth of the afternoon sun shortly thereafter, I closed my eyes and asked for a sign...something to let me know Molly was OK...When I opened my eyes, a HUGE red-tailed hawk came flying along the driveway in front of me at the height of the railing on the deck. I could have reached out and touched it had I wanted. He flew across the yard and over the top of the pines at the end of the side yard. Before he was out of sight, I heard him squeal and watched him spiral into a circle. Then he disappeared...Molly had sent her messenger, and I was embraced by peace.

It'll take us a while to adjust to Molly's absence. As Annie came into the bedroom last night, she growled out of habit, thinking Molly was there to challenge her for her food. The perplexed look on Annie's face as she looked around for Molly indicated Annie sensed our life had changed. When I got up this morning to let Annie out, I held the door open and called for Molly to come....I'm sure all of us will need a little time to process her absence.

I've read this poem by Walt Whitman many times over in the past couple of weeks....I include it here in honor of Molly...

I think I could turn and live with animals, they are so placid and self-contain'd,

I stand and look at them long and long.

They do not sweat and whine about their conditions,

They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins,

They do not make me sick discussing their self-importance,

Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of owning things.

Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago,

Not one is disrespectful or unhappy over the whole earth.

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Everyone here at The Farm is a better human being by virtue of having lived with Molly. As I told her the other night, we'll never ever be without her...As Joe reminds us, she's here, just in another form...here forever.

RELAXATION - THE FARM CRITTER WAY

EXHIBIT #1
Cato demonstrates one of his favorite uses of recyling bin lids. Cato's a fan of direct afternoon sun.

Exhibit #2
Oscar prefers a comfy snooze on his back with porch railing shade.

Exhibit #3

Rufus likes to spread his wings, have the sweet aroma of a rawhide bone near his nose, and snooze comfortably with his eyes half open on his yoga mat.

Exhibit #4

Clouseau prefers the body shaping perch for his R & R.

Photos of Annie in her relaxation mode coming soon when I can catch her with my camera.....

NATURAL PROGESSION - NIGHT BLOOMING CEREUS

Most of the time, this amazing plant produces flowers in the middle of the summer. This year, in July, we had a couple of blooms that came out while I was in Boone. I lamented the fact I didn't get to see them; the blooms opened and were on the ground before I got home.

For some odd reason, the plant decided to open up again - this time in October after temps have already plummeted to near freezing levels. I was really shocked to see two buds last weekend, and over the course of the week, they've opened, bloomed and faded away.

The lifespan of the glorious flower is only 24 hours....so short but so breathtaking while it lasts!

IN THE WOODS

In the back woods, chubby Goddess keeps an eye on all the plants and critters from atop her tree stump perch where I sit and think about things. She's gotten a little crack in her left side over time and picked up some moss along the way, but neither seem to bother her greatly. She's a jolly woman, happy to live in the woods and not have to deal with much more than an occasional passerby on a walk.

There's a huge, beautiful, one-of-a-kind fungus growing at the base of a tree down the path from chubby Goddess, and it's one of the most striking works of art I've ever seen in the natural world. It engulfed a strand of barbed wire as it grew, and the waxy appearance is really quite spongy to the touch. It's totally breathtaking!

This close-up image below allows one to see the interior complexity of the mass.

And this is what it looks like as one approaches it. I had no idea what I was looking at from a distance. It was only when I got closer that I discovered this amazing, glob of orange, salmon, and pale yellow stuff.

TRIBUTE TO SALLY JOHNSON

Saturday morning, September 12, 2009, Sally Johnson said goodbye to this world and began her journey into the world of spirit. Friends for almost three decades, Sally and I have woven in and out of contact over the thirty years, but most recently, by virture of Facebook, our connection has been strong and very special.

One of the first of many powerful and inspiring women I met when I moved to Ohio from New Orleans, Sally was a young mom of three active, energetic and highly talented, creative children. Her husband at the time worked as a glassblower, and he and Sally lived on a small farm in our area. One of my first memories of Sally is of a barn dance out at her and Doug's farm - - a birthday celebration for a mutual friend's birthday. When I close my eyes, I can see the beautiful birthday cake Sally decorated with sweet-pea flowers for Cathy and her dancing with each of her children all night long as the moon shone through the slats in the barn siding. Oh, how they loved their mom!

Sally was a force of nature...a founding member of the Dumb Club, a true back-to-the-earth, tofu-making, hippie mom who set the bar for me as the mom I wanted to emmulate when it became my time for children. She birthed her children at home and attended many, many other women who chose to do the same. I am touched by the number of younger adults now who now honor her for being with their moms at their respective births. Sally always, always, always, advocated for women and kids and the Earth...Thanks to Sally Johnson's efforts there is a rape hot-line in Marietta for women in crisis.

Artsy, creative, funny, sarcastic and at times cynical and opinionated, Sally's path was not always easy, but she unfailingly came out on top, whether it be from the throes of divorces or battling a chronic leukemia that has reared its nasty head in her life for the past few years. Her love of the mountains of southwest Virginia and her grandson, Max, defined her truest inspirations and became the topic of most of our recent conversations. I treasure our emails in which she talked about both.

Recently Sally turned 60 and spent a week at the beach with her family in celebration. AS I understand, not long after their return from this special vacation, her body again began to need attention. Blood and platelet transfusions did not spur her marrow to take hold again, and she weakened steadily and quickly. Appropriately, her family was with her as she took her final exhale last Saturday.....

I downloaded the above photos from Facebook...Sally in the mountains....Sally with her grandson....It's been hard to veer my thoughts away from her passage, but when I went on a walk yesterday through my fields, as the sun shone, as the butterflies savored the last of summer's nectars, and as the crows and hawks called in the distance, I felt her presence strongly...peaceful and serene...

Goodbye to an amazing woman.....godspeed, my friend....