THE MAIL BOX
On August 9th, a proposal for a 765-kilovolt transmission line landed on my life. We received what looked like junk mail, and the contents of that flyer blew a crater into my peaceful life here at Brown Dog Farm.
I was getting ready to open the farm for the Sugar and Turtle Creek Farm Crawl. On August 15, 400 people came through to tour. The farm store was open, artists were on the porch making paintings and prints, spinners were spinning roving into yarn, and fleeces were on the tables for skirting demos. The day was an absolute blur. I took not one picture. I was numb with anxiety and panic.
The line is planned to come from Minnesota, cut through the Driftless and Baraboo, run around Madison and down through the southern Kettle Moraine, then across Walworth County to the Illinois border near Beloit. It means 765,000 volts strung on towers 180 feet tall, every 400 yards, with a 200-foot cleared corridor underneath. It came with no invitation and no RSVP.
I’m a sheep farmer and a painter. I did not plan to become a community organizer, but here I am, going to meetings, reading dockets, and learning more about easements than any shepherd should.
It has cost me. The hours I used to give the studio, my newsletter, and my wool business are going to the line, and so is a good measure of my peace. I’m tired, and I’m saying so once, plainly, and then I’m moving on.
RETOOLING
Moving on looks like this: retooling. I’m making room again for the flock, the paint, and the writing, because stewardship that only fights is half a practice. The other half is tending what you’re fighting for.
I used to write on this blog to scratch my writing itch, to indulge my curiosity, and to share the small moments that fill my heart on this farm. I moved away from it in the busyness of trying to build a business around my vocation and avocation. In that whirlwind I switched to a newsletter format and a filtered, segmented email list that sent offers to customers in a timely fashion, with efficient calls to action and linkable offers. I’m realizing that right now I am spent of that energy. I’m laser-focused on my “why” and on fighting for the very chance to keep doing this work. I need connection and support for my soul, and writing this way is where I’ll find the strength and resolve to be a leader in my community and to help others in their fights. I must first fill my cup so I can serve.
So it’s back to the blog and the little moments. This is where you can dive deep with me. The emails will alert you to an offer here or there, or an announcement of new work, but monthly updates had started to feel like another meeting agenda, or a chore. I’d much rather do my chores outside. Meet me here instead for a quiet chat and a glimpse of what I love about this beautiful place.
The flock at evening chores
So much has happened even in the months since August. We are all fine. The flock is whittled down to 21 of my best and favorite ewes, plus some ewe lambs from this spring who look promising. Hamish and the wethers are spending the winter in the ram pasture. We’re taking a break from lambing this year and will spend the winter thinking about and searching for a new ram line. I was already planning on that, and the plans are falling into place. It was hard seeing all those sheep move on to new farms and flocks. Switching gears from building a flock to dispersing it was harder than I thought it would be. But we can do hard things, I have found.
ON THE EASEL
I made that decision on purpose, because I wanted to focus on painting this fall. My first one-woman show opens November 19 at ArtStart’s Glass Gallery in Rhinelander, Wisconsin. It’s a haul up north, but I was invited, and over a year ago it seemed like a good idea. Tending Eden: Portraits of Stewardship will be a mix of paintings and drawings from the past few years. I’ve been working on this series of farmers and ranchers at their work, and it will also include the piece I made for my ArtServancy residency, Family Farm Bed. The stewardship theme seems pretty locked in my psyche right now, and I don’t feel it’s entirely finished with me yet. I honestly hoped to have more new paintings done, but I’m thinking of this as a snapshot in time of what I’ve been working on. There will be more. It’s just where I am right now, and that’s OK with me.
I’ll be offering a series of small prints of those paintings in my annual Small Works Release, a sort of memento from the gallery show. Look for it soon.
If you want to know more about the line or how to help, start here: https://www.NO765Line.org. If you’d rather just buy some wool and think good thoughts, that’s allowed too.
Welcome back to the blog.
Let’s meet here soon. Bring something warm to drink.