Walking out to the pond this afternoon I followed a set of fox tracks printed in the mud on the lane. Back in 2011 Rachel and I were playing with names for our new life on a new farm, and we kept looping back to the orneriness and unpredictability praised in Wendell’s poem “Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front”, where he wrote:

Be like the fox

who makes more tracks than necessary

some in the wrong direction.

Funnily enough, after years of studying the foxes on this farm, I’ve never seen one do anything other than trot along in direct lines.

Wendell Berry died last week, and I’ve been reflective about him and his writings. Others will write better eulogies; that’s not my intent here. I just wish to say that I’m glad to have found him and to have read his novels, essays, and poems. When he wrote, he always had something useful, thoughtful, and humane to say. I didn’t agree with all of his ideas, but he wasn’t the sort of person to insist that anyone agree with him. And I was often surprised, when thinking that I had an original thought, to find in one of his works written decades ago, that Wendell had beaten me to it. There he’d be, articulating the same idea, only bringing more style, heart, and mischief to the subject than I possibly could have.

Besides the eulogies, I’m sure this week will bring many pieces explaining the social impact of Berry’s work. Again, I’ll leave that to those who have a larger view of such matters. For me, his strongest writing was whenever he wrote about the relationship of people to their families and neighbors. I’ll leave with one of his short poems from the Mad Farmer series.

O when the world’s at peace

and every man is free

then will I go down unto my love.

O and I may go down

several times before that.