Bye Bye Baloo

Me and Baloo.
Photo by Ramin Rahimian

My best friend died this morning. He was almost 14 years old, and hairy as all get out. He was my Golden Retriever, Baloo.

Baloo being mysterious on a frozen pond.
Photo: Liat Batshira

He didn't start out as mine. He came to Dancing Rabbit with Jess Mund, who, when pregnant and uncertain about where she and her new family would live, agreed to let me have him. It was the very best gift I have ever received, and one for which I will ALWAYS be grateful. Thank you again, Jess.

Kurt and I first met Baloo in June of 1999 when we arrived at DR. We were all living in tents at the time. Every morning Baloo would poke his nose into our tent to say hello. "Oh," we thought, "he likes us best!" Later on we would find that he was an equal opportunity greeter - he stopped by everyone's tent every morning.

Jess was incredibly unselfish about sharing Baloo. As a retriever he was obsessed with sticks and balls and mud clods and rocks and anything else that could be hauled in his mouth from point A to point B. This was an especially fun game in the pond. There were some summers when we wondered if he was mildewing from all of the time he spent in the water.

Playing with Tim Johnson, 2005 (?)

Jess and Baloo had trained to do search and rescue, and since Baloo was the smartest dog on the planet (sorry, I'm a bit biased) he retained much of his early enthusiasm for searching. He wasn't always so great at the actual finding, but that didn't deter him.

Baloo had a secret life that we knew nothing about. Here he is sledding with Ziggy and Thomas.
Photo: Liat Batshira

Baloo was luck to have many, many friends here at Dancing Rabbit. Tom Cowen and Thomas Kortkamp have both spent twokazillion hours playing fetch with him. Sparky was his "au pair" and he adored her. Meadow claimed he was her spiritual leader, and he adored her, too. Actually, Baloo adored everyone, which was part of his charm. He was great with kids, except when he knocked them down with his wagging tail, which was entirely unintentional. He was a great ambassador for Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage.

"Snow? What's the problem? Get out here and throw something!"

Before Baloo came into our lives, I had always wanted a dog. But not just any dog. I wanted one of those dogs who would hang out with me, be by my side always, not have to be on a leash because we were hanging out together. I didn't think it was actually possible, but Baloo made it so. He decided that I was the one, and everywhere I went, Baloo went, too. People used to joke that they always knew what building I was in because Baloo would be waiting patiently outside. At home, as I roamed from room to room, he did too. (When our cat, Fionn MacCool joined our family, he also joined the parade. Going to the bathroom became a spectator event - all the animals followed me in, sat down, and enjoyed the show. What can I say - we're all easily entertained!). Baloo came with us back and forth across the country many times, on trips to California and Oregon. He was a great traveling companion. He slept at the head of our bed (tucked under the eaves), he would lay by my desk while I worked, and generally never be more than five feet away.

With a toy given to him by a Mercantile guest.
Photo by Sequoia Rock

Kurt likes to say that you can learn all that you need to learn about life from a dog like Baloo. I'm inclined to agree, except for the parts that involve rolling around in dead raccoons.

"Hey, I'll drive!" says Baloo, on his way across the country yet again...

He's been slowing down a lot lately. Two weeks ago he no longer had the strength to get himself out of the pond. We compensated by using the garden hose on him in the afternoons in this horribly hot weather - it seemed to help him cool off a bit. On Thursday morning he refused his food, but did drink water. We talked to the vet who, through a lot of euphimisms, said that if he didn't eat (if we couldn't use a syringe and get some nourishment into him) he might suffer a slow death from starvation. She said that she could make a "farm visit" the next day if we wished. Which meant euthanasia.

Whoever said that balls don't grow on trees clearly had never seen a hedge apple (osage orange) tree. You can imagine Baloo's excitement at discovering such a marvel very close to our house. The only problem was: how to choose?

"OK. I like this one. Throw it please!"

Baloo lay in the Mercantile all day, and then dragged himself back to the cottage - his back legs had pretty much stopped working. He reclined in the same place, on the cool concrete floor for hours. About 3:00 a.m. we had a big thunder storm so I brought a quilt and pillow downstairs (for me) and slept by him - he hated storms. At 8:00 a.m. we called the vet. Word spread, and the loving, caring Rabbits trickled in to say good-bye. There is something tremendously comforting in having so many people love and care for your dog. There were tears, and hugs, and lots of caresses, mostly for Baloo, but for us, too.

We drove back and forth from Missouri to California and back several times. Not only was Baloo a great sport he actually LOVED riding in the car. On this trip Kurt rigged up the luggage in the back seat so that Baloo could ride at our "level," since he was always trying to skooch up into the front seat anyways.

At 11:00 a.m. our very kind vet came by and after a gentle but thorough exam agreed that our decision was the kind and compassionate one. She administered a sedative, and then another injection. In ten minutes Baloo was gone.

Thomas had dug a grave under our solar panels in the garden while we were waiting for the vet. A few of us carried Baloo out, wrapped in a sheet, and buried him with his rubber duck and some flowers. Many people came back and helped cover him with dirt. There were more tears, and hugs.

We'll have a celebration of Baloo on Monday. But I suspect it will take a lot longer to get over the reflex of calling him when I get ready to leave the house, or reaching to pet him before I go to sleep.

Good bye Baloo. I'll miss you, more than you'll ever know.



Us Two
by A. A. Milne

NOTE: Not having the opportunity to ever know Baloo, A.A. Milne wrote this poem (from the view point of Christopher Robin) about Pooh. I have taken quite appalling liberties with this poem to suit my own needs. Somehow, I don't think Mr. Milne would mind...

Wherever I am, there's always Baloo,
There's always Baloo and Me.
Whatever I do, he wants to do,
"Where are you going today?" says Baloo:
"Well, that's very odd 'cos I was too.
Let's go together," says Baloo, says he.
"Let's go together," says Baloo.

"What's twice eleven?" I said to Baloo.
("Twice what?" said Baloo to Me.)
"I think it ought to be twenty-two."
"Just what I think myself," said Baloo.
"It wasn't an easy sum to do,
But that's what it is," said Baloo, said he.
"That's what it is," said Baloo.

"Let's look for dragons," I said to Baloo.
"Yes, let's," said Baloo to Me.
We crossed the river and found a few-
"Yes, those are dragons all right," said Baloo.
"As soon as I saw their beaks I knew.
That's what they are," said Baloo, said he.
"That's what they are," said Baloo.

"Let's frighten the dragons," I said to Baloo.
"That's right," said Baloo to Me.
"I'm not afraid," I said to Baloo,
And I held his paw and I shouted "Shoo!
Silly old dragons!"- and off they flew.
"I wasn't afraid," said Baloo, said he,
"I'm never afraid with you."

So wherever I am, there's always Baloo,
There's always Baloo and Me.
"What would I do?" I said to Baloo,
"If it wasn't for you," and Baloo said: "True,
It isn't much fun for One, but Two,
Can stick together, says Baloo, says he.
"That's how it is," says Baloo.

Ready to rumble at a Squire cousin reunion, 2005

I Heart Mary Oliver

Prairie Wildflowers and Grasses
Photo by Grant Steerzer

A friend over at Red Earth Farms just posted on Facebook with a question: If you were to memorize a poem, which would it be?

Someone mentioned A Road Less Traveled by Robert Frost, which I often hear running through my head.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference

Talk about great (insert sigh here). Robert Frost is like that - who can walk in the woods and not think "...whose woods are these I think I know..." or, when you have to drag yourself away from somewhere you'd like to stay, the line about "...but I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep..." (from Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening).

But one of my favorites has to be The Journey by Mary Oliver:

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.

Oh. So. Delicious.

In other news, life at the ecovillage has been hot but lively. The Inn has been full for two weeks straight, which has kept us exceedingly busy. The work exchangers have been amazing - they see things that need to be done and do them, which has taken an enormous load off of my shoulders. I'm having great fun cooking with Mina, Robby is working hard on making us all (semi) famous, Danae and Jordan are taming the garden and making the place absolutely beautiful, and Katherine is taking care of the inn rooms beautifully. It makes me very happy to watch this all fall into place!

The other night we had an International potluck which began with a game of street cricket, and finished with an amazing array of food. Yum!

Baloo
Photo by Sequoia Rock

Baloo, best dog in the world, continues to get older each day. He can no longer walk all the way to the pond, which is just as well, because his hind legs are no longer strong enough to push him out of the water. It is sad but we have had 14 fantastic years, and each additional day feels like delicious gravy. He and I take slow, short walks, and hang out together a lot. He seems quite content, and still enjoys (very short) games of fetch.

It was too hot for pizza night (we couldn't bear the thought of standing in the kitchen near the oven pumping out 500 degree heat for four hours) so Kurt grilled burgers ("real" and Boca), a bunch of veggies, we steamed up a ton of sweet corn and whipped up several tons of potato salad (recipe tomorrow). It was a big hit, and a nice change from pizza. We're thinking about doing lasagne in the solar oven this Thursday.

The pond at sunset
Photo by Grant Steerzer

That's it for now. I'm kind of in a hurry to get outside - it's 8:22 p.m. and it has finally cooled down. It's fairly quiet out because half of the community has gone down to Columbia to participate in an Ultimate Frisbee tournament. But the birds are singing (a nest with 3 robins about to fledge right outside my window), the kids are laughing, and there is a guitar and singing going on in the courtyard. Time to go, perhaps for a swim and then to join the singing.

More tomorrow.

Reminding Myself Who I Am, or the Forest for the Trees

Hi friends!

Here in Rutledge it is currently 96 degrees ("but it feels like 103!"). We are, and you might be too, in the midst of a freakin' hot summer. To compensate, I am sitting here in front of a fan (with very few clothes on, one of the joys of working from home!) and a big icy Dr. Pepper at hand. Earlier today I met with work exchanger Robby Boyer (not to worry, we were both fully dressed) and brainstormed ways to get the Milkweed Mercantile a little more attention. Our goal - to fill more Inn rooms, bring in a little more green (as Kurt is fond of saying, we're "making tens of dollars!") and spread the good word of sustainability.

Robby, taken last summer on the Mercantile porch. Who knew he'd be back for more?

In thinking about past publicity the Mercantile has received I remembered one of the very first interviews I did. It was with Mike Sowden, who at the time was working for EcoSalon. (Your guess is as good as mine why it is under the "Sex" category - ha!) It was, as always, a blast to be my opinionated self. Rereading it was like getting a shot of adrenalin, or perhaps receiving an incredibly positive kick in the pants.

When one is smack dab in the middle of an all-consuming adventure, one often loses sight of how much has been achieved. One being me, of course.

"Pondage"

So thanks for the reminder. It's time for a swim in the pond, and then back to the Mercantile to prep for Heat Index Grillin' Evening, which is being held in place of pizza night. It's just too damn hot to hang out by a 500 degree oven for five hours!

Keep cool!

Four Year Anniversary

Jess (top row center) and me (middle row, third from left) at the Cousins Reunion, 1989
Also pictured: Yvonne (next to me in blue) and her brother Phil (in front of me in the shiny red jacket)

Four years ago today my only brother died.

I’ve kept busy today – hung out with friends, worked with Robby on Mercantile publicity, did a gazillion loads of laundry, gave a talk on Dancing Rabbit history for a visitor group, canned 10 pints of pickled beets…but always, in the back of my head, was an inescapable sense of loss.

I know I’m not alone – everyone has to deal with the death of loved ones somewhere along the line. As my father used to joke, no one gets out of this world alive. But the process, and the mourning, takes a long time to go away. Perhaps it never does.

Serendipitously, last week my cousin Yvonne and her husband Ronnie dropped by (from Arizona!) to visit. Her brother - my cousin - Philip passed away last year. We are all still blown away by that. I am grateful that the two of us had a (sad and tear-filled but oh-so-comforting) late night conversation and muffin-baking session, followed by lots of hugs. I was reminded, simultaneously, that I am not the only one who has suffered a loss, and that I will always have people who love me in my life, often appearing exactly when I need them to.

I realize that I am very fortunate. I have so many things and people and experiences for which to be thankful. My life is filled with love and laughter and sunshine and a richness that I could only dream of when I was young. But I still find myself wishing I could see many of those I’ve lost just one more time.

My idea of heaven? While I’m not at all religious I envision this: a place where my brother can see how gorgeous and smart and talented his daughters have grown to be. Hanging out with my friend Carter where he can be pain-free and we can garden and laugh together again. Where my friend Todd doesn’t have to wrestle with depression anymore and we can talk for hours about movies and books and words and the joy of language. Where Cindy (and the rest of us!) can find out what exciting thing she will do next. Where Marcia and I can get to the top of Half Dome, instead of her waiting in the valley, out of breath. Where Tamar can find a partner with whom to grow old – and actually be able to do it…(and that’s just the short list...)

One of my very favorite movie scenes is from “Longtime Companion.” Yes, the movie is dated; the mustaches have become 1980’s clichés and the shorts are way too short – but all of that falls away while I watch. Simply imagining the sheer joy that would fill me if I were able to, once again, hold those who I have loved blows me away every single time I watch it.

Thanks for reading. We'll return to our regularly scheduled programming tomorrow!

PS This particular post doesn't really have anything to do with ecovillage life, except that I live at an ecovillage and this is what I'm thinking today. I realize that my promised columns on death and dying are much delayed - I promise I'll post them soon!

One last thing - Lyrics to the song from above

Postmortem Ball by Zane Campbell

When I cleaned out your room
I painted the walls to cover any memories
But still it seemed like you were hovering over
Still out there keeping an eye on me

Yeah I never really was able to tell you
That's why I'm telling you now that you can't hear
It's not gonna be the same around here without you
And I'm holding back a flood behind one tear

And we'll go down to the post-mortem bar
And catch up on the years that have passed between us
And we'll tell our stories
Do you remember when the world was just like a carnival opening up

I never thought that I would ever see the day
And I don't wanna believe it's true
You were supposed to always be there
And a part of me has died with you

Ceci N'est Pas Un Chapeau (or, Wear a Hat, Get Birthday Cake)

One of the things I love best about living at Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage is that for your birthday everyone has to do what you say. Perhaps not the most grammatically graceful sentence, but there you are.

I asked for silly hats. And boy, did I get them! Thanks to everyone who played along and wore a hat, silly or otherwise, to celebrate my birthday!

Here are a few samples of what we're wearing here at DR:

Haley, Kyle ("hey, I had a hat, I had a mouse trap - they seemed to go together!") and Dylan

Jordan and Sheila, wearing the latest in box hats.

Tom wearing Cat IN the Hat, Grant sporting a fabulous pink number, and Lise wearing Cat ON the Hat.

Nani modeling her Saltines Hat. In the background, Cos and April (love those feathers!).

Morgan made this stunner himself. Love it!

Maya looking glamorous in the latest Armadillo hat.

Zane, Cynder with a Shoe Hat, and Jennifer & Alex with fabulous foam hats - they looked like castle heads...

Tim and Bethann (whose hat is Fun "E").

Kim looked divine in this lovely colander...

Mercantile Work Exchangers Morag, Jordan & Katherine slinging pizza in silly hat style!

Even Althea got into the spirit of things and wore her (hopefully clean) diaper on her head.

"Abdul" Orsillo kept cool while playing some hoops and eating cake.

Craig cleverly disguised as a British Bobby.

After making three AMAZING Queen of Sheba cakes Julie (shown here with Dan) decided that her shorts would work wonderfully as a hat. And really, who am I to argue?

Sometimes Nature Rocks My Socks - Cecropia Moths

Last Friday Kurt, Danae, Jordan and Baloo picked me up from the train station in Ottumwa, Iowa. Needing sustenance, we bailed on eco-friendly and headed to the local Sonic Burger place. We like it because they have old-fashioned drive-in service where the "car hop" brings the tray out to the car. We decided that the car was a bit too crowded (Baloo isn't exactly a lap dog) and so poured ourselves out onto the lawn and ate our burgers and fries there. But that isn't the story.

At some point during our meal Danae got up, wandered a few feet away and came back with an amazing moth in her hands. The first photo is from Kurt's phone, and I found the other two online to give you a better idea of just how stunning this creature is.

Check it out - it's a cecropia moth (Hyalophora cecropia).

Danae and the moth.

Cecropia Moth

This photo is from the Simple Gifts Farm blog.

Cecropia Moth
Photo from Bite Me Bait Co. ( I just find 'em, I don't name 'em)

Danae's moth was about 5" across. According to Wikipedia (and we all know that if it's on the web, it's true) this is North America's largest moth. It lives a week at most. We examined (actually, we oooohed and ahhhhhhed) for about five minutes, and then Danae walked it over to a shady fence away from the parking lot, where she left it.

"The Cecropia Moth is a beautiful creature seldom seen by the average citizen...Mating is the only goal of the adult moth (Alline's note: couldn't that also read "adult male"?). Adult moths come out of their cocoons in spring and summer. Most cocoons will "hatch out" on either May 15th or on the day of the summer solstice. This insures survival of some of the eggs in case of a late frost. The eggs soon hatch in little caterpillars who feed voraciously on the host plant. This could be oaks, cherry, beech and other trees. The caterpillars grow quickly and can attain lengths of 5-6 inches. They are green with different colored spikes protruding from it's back. The colors are quite striking making for an interesting sight. " Bite Me Bait Co.

We saw the moth on June 17th; summer solstice is today, June 21st.

From the Wikipedia page:
"Because the adult moths do not have mouth parts they are unable to eat. As a result, the lifespan for an adult Cecropia moth is generally only 7 to 10 days in the wild, perhaps a little longer or shorter, depending on how much movement the moth makes. For instance, if temperatures are cooler, the moth may remain mostly inactive, which will increase its lifespan."

That's it for now. Go forth and be amazed!

Culture Shock Hits the Ecovillage's Poster Child...

...or, Miss Whiny-pants vents a bit.

And you may ask yourself
What is that beautiful house?
And you may ask yourself
Where does that highway go?
And you may ask yourself
Am I right?...Am I wrong?
And you may tell yourself
MY GOD!...WHAT HAVE I DONE?

~Talking Heads, Once In a Lifetime

I'm home from a two week trip to California and Oregon, and am suffering from culture shock. Culture shock, weather shock, grocery store shock...you name it, I'm spazzing out about it.

One would think that after 12 years of ecovillage life in the rural Midwest I'd be somewhat accustomed to wild mood swings following visits to the "outside world." But each time I feel less like either place is home, and more adrift and lost than ever. The Bay Area feels even faster, more expensive and relentless than it did 12 years ago. And Rutledge, Missouri seems hotter, sweatier and more enmeshed than ever. What's a girl to do?

My Northern California experiences leave me breathless and wanting more of the life I used to have - dinner at Chez Panisse (thanks Kate!); shopping at Monterey Market, where one can choose (for example) from five (five!) types of organic strawberries, all grown in California; a breathtaking drive up Highway 1, with stops along the way at a variety of beaches and redwood forests; walking to small, local restaurants; hanging with friends. Even the music on the radio was a welcome change - there was actually a choice broader than Classic Rock vs. Jesus.

Sigh.

The good news: fresh raspberries, fireflies, great interns, an ever-changing array of wildflowers. My husband and my dog love me. The Mercantile guests provide a refreshing change of perspective. My women's group is happy to have me home (shameless plug: read an article I wrote about the group here).

The bad news: I am tired, and feel desperately in need of a change. I need more fun, more creativity, and more JUICE.

Am I considering buying a gas-guzzling SUV, campaigning for Sarah Palin or carrying Arnold Schwarzenegger's love child? Nope. But something's gotta change. And soon.

Stay tuned.