Over in the direction of the forested area, and across the gravel road that separates Rob's farm from his western neighbours, stands my little red barn that is red no more. How sad, but then again, all things pass, as George Harrison would have us believe. I talked to the owner of the barn last fall while trying to finish the new trail through the little forest, and surmized that he was in no hurry to have it painted red again. It is now a cream coloured affair, and it looks rather drab through the naked trees. When the barn was red, it inspired me about country living; but now it looks totally boring and ineffectual to say the least. There's no explaining some people's tastes, or lack of. What do you think? Should other people, especially petty property owners, be allowed to destroy one's visionary gleams? Oh little red barn down the lane, how you made me want to dream again!

Nature is a force to be reckoned with out at Rob's farm, especially the wind. When the wild wind blows, you find yourself ducking around cold corners looking for a fairly calm spot to huddle in. No wonder some of the trees along the north ridge look rather dishevelled. The wind pretty much has its own way out there, so you better get out of its way when it's blowing! Wind chimes have proven to be very delicate instruments in the face of such a gale-like force. I have often mentioned to Rob that he should rename the place to Wuthering Heights.

One of countless trillums to be found in the Enchanting Forest.

One has to use a pick to plant a tulip on Rob's farm, so you can imagine the amount of time and physical labour we have put into this project. The ground is riddled with shale, and it's hard going when you want to plant a shrub or a tree. If you look closely in the picture at left, you will see two little spruce trees soaking up the sun in the new garden patch. May they grow tall and provide nesting space for cardinal virtues, and cool shade for the blessed lillies of the vale. Oh, to be out on the farm near Thedford, now that spring is almost here!

I am very fortunate to have a friend who allows me to create gardens and trails on his property. We have had our disputes though, but we have always managed to rise above our petty differences. I think Rob is beginning to understand that I mean him no harm with my gardening projects. I have only meant to improve things around his farm anyway. Judging by the positive responses of his sporadic visitors, I am on the right track. Flowers have a way of cheering up even the most heavy of hearts. That is their special power. Like Emerson said, "...if eyes were made for seeing, than beauty is its own excuse for being". Amen to that! Om mani padme hum.

East of the farm house in the Ashokan pillar garden along the north ridge of the hill, we have planted a line of hollyhocks that hopefully will make a good showing this year. Hollyhocks love to grow out at Rob's farm, but even they can be stunted by too much shale in the soil. Unfortunately the ridge is full of shale, so it will be a miracle of sorts if the hocks should throw up their lofty pastel spires at all. It's all trial and error with gardening anyway. No one that I know of, has such perfect soil conditions that he can grow anything he chooses to grow. No, I won't be too bummed out if the hallowed hocks refuse to make a go of it on the ridge, but it would be nice if they rose to the occasion, for I only want to take them higher!

Again steps east of the house, there is a trail just before the Ashokan pillar garden that will take you down to a cozy little bench and tulip garden, where you can sit and look northwards over a lush green valley that boasts a horse ranch and a rather large apple orchard. A good friend of ours, Abdul Satari, made the bench on location out of a few concrete blocks, and a ceder seat I found in the garbage on Central Avenue here in London during spring cleanup a few years ago. I often sit on that little bench in early spring and listen to the catbirds call out to their own. The sun is always strong on your back there, and all your winter worries seem to melt away, as you recline and ponder how you allowed yourself to get so worked up over what now seem to be such trivial matters of the heart. Thank God for spring blooms, and a good place to sit and actualize. And thank you too, Abdul. I know Rob will make sure the bench is properly painted for another season. Perhaps everything is impermanent, but with a little loving care, we can make some things last a while longer in such a transitory world so relentlessly subject to change.

The two major pests on Rob's farm are mice and varmits. The mice rule in the old damp house, and the furry varmits make a nasty habit out of devouring the shrubs and flowers I so earnestly plant for our future enjoyment. Neither one of us has the heart to go rabbit hunting, but a few of Rob's neighbours obviously look after that end of harsh reality. Fresh empty shot gun shells can be found up and down the trails every spring, so you don't have to be a rocket scientist to discern that someone is "blowing them up real good" when we're not around being masters of all we survey. The rabbits also go after the fresh green shoots of perennials, and will attack what's left of the apple trees on the hill when the snow piles high enough. Unitl you see it, you don't realize just how destructive those varmits can be, but Rob's orchard owning neighbours do, believe me! I don't think telling them a story about how the Buddha once was a hare in a former lifetime would win them over. Why would they want to look for the hare in the moon when they can find lots of them running amuck on Rob's property? Did I mention that the mice drown en masse in the rain barrels every time it pours? The horror! The absolute bloated horror! Thank the muses for drenched and dripping apple trees.

Last summer Rob had his first real gathering of kindred spirits out on his farm near the middle of the second week of August. An eclectic assortment of couples showed up for the occasion, a rather small group in all mind you, but enough people to make it a happening. We sat around an unforgettable fire out behind the old green work shed east of the house, whilst a harvest moon kept us glorious company into the wee small hours of the morning. The south field had recently been harvested for hay by one of Rob's farming neighbours, and I remember the stubble glowing a ghostly gold in the bright moonlight. It was a wondrous warm night compared to the poor weather we had been experiencing days earlier. Little Theodore, a plump, happy child belonging to a rather hip young couple who had spent meaningful time in Vancouver, sat smiling at us all from his little fuzzy blanket. He was dressed in John Lennon designer togs, and was the indisputable hit of the party. I was one of the last ones up, but I soon headed off to my cozy tent beneath the cedars over by the house when sleep finally summoned me. I was out like a light in no time, and arose a few hours later with a song in my heart and a spring in my step.

Out wandering the trails in early spring, one encounters many a solitary violet by a mossy stone, and the hill is often riddled with sparkling rivulets of water working their way downwards to the awakening valley below. I may be daffy, but if William Wordsworth was alive and kicking, I am certain he could not help but be gay in such jocund company! Why even a dullard would have to admit that there's something wonderfully exciting about the fresh green flourescence of moss-covered stones! Yet, how sad and too often brief their purple partners' reign. However, if you can just get through another winter, they will all be there again waiting for your soft, loving step. And are not those tiny purple sentinels planted ever so firmly beside their moss-covered rocks such the stuff our deepest spring dreams are made of? Why of course they are! For the Creator has a master plan!

Recently developed for visitors, the Enchanting Forest can be reached by way of the Trillium Trail, which branches off the main garden path. A cozy picnic area awaits you there, and a new green bench across from it to sit and look down over the recently stocked rainbow trout pond. Various spring woodland herbs and flowers like jacks-in-the-pulpit, trout lillies, red and white trilliums, and wild geraniums grow in the adjacent forest, not to mention several varieties of ferns. Wild turkey buzzards like to nest there, and deer are not that uncommon; in fact, I came upon a fawn while marking the new trail in late spring.