How to approach the future of Chanyata Farm is a challenging and soul-searching responsibility - a task I do not take lightly.
What are the options?
1. Keep the land, house, outbuildings as they are presently, continuing to lease out tillable land and maintaining everything, but still live in my present home.
2. Develop a new plan/purpose for the farm but retain the agricultural tax status on the land, and continue to live away from the farm. Upgrade the lane from gravel to concrete or asphalt. Have an engineer determine the health of the two existing bridges on the lane.
3. Same as #2 except Wes and/or I would build house(s) on the farm, probably tearing down the existing house and older outbuildings, and constructing new barns to meet the needs of the land-use plan that was developed.
4. Sell the entire farm to the Hamilton Co. Park District with restrictions that no recreational development will ever take place and that the land will remain in a conserved state.
5. Consider options/proposals/ideas from other family members re. the future of the farm. There may be possibilities which Wes or I haven’t considered.
6. Same as #4, but keep a 5 acre (approx.) cutout which includes the house, barns, room for a garden, and perhaps the area where existing picnic spot is located. This would buy us some time to determine the future of the house and barns. We would give the Park District the first right of refusal if Wes and I would choose to sell the remaining 5 acres at a future time. Attempt to negotiate an agreement with the Park District that would give us continued access to the acreage sold (hiking, firewood from trees already on the ground, etc.). Wes or I could tear down the house and barns if either of us wanted to build a house and possibly pursue gardening or raising a few animals, etc.
If we went the route of #6, we could pursue gaining an easement from the Park District to establish an alternate ingress/egress over Park property (directly south of Chanyata) that has frontage on the highway. This would eliminate issues related to maintenance of the lane, and the engineering soundness of the two existing bridges which must be crossed to enter or leave the farm.
Certainly there are more options that could be considered, but these are the ones that have been dancing in my head - sometimes at 3 a.m.! I’m probably more inclined towards #6 - as you might guess from the length of its description.
Wes and I are meeting with a representative of the Park District on Tuesday. Our purpose is to gain more information about possible scenarios/options if we’d decide to sell some or all of the farm to the Park District.
This is a difficult balancing act, trying to maintain the spirit of Chanyata and deal with the realities of maintaining it. The issues are not black and white, but rather on a continuum of possibilities.
I may have no readers left in cyberworld since so much time has passed since my last posting. There are many reasons, a few of which will be evident.
My mother has died. It’s a harsh/hard sentence to write. It’s harder still to live without her. Our family has grieved - is still grieving. Kate wrote well of the experience in her blog.
Kate suggested many weeks ago that I post my remarks from mom’s memorial service. Here they are:
May 31, 2005
Thank you for being here today. Each of us has been touched in some way by the remarkable woman whose life we celebrate. At 87 she was living where wanted to be, on her beloved Chanyata Farm, still driving, mowing the lawn with her John Deere, and absolutely loving her new dog, Lucy. What a life - what a way to go!
Mother was a member of this congregation for 54 years and for 27 years filled this sanctuary with wonderful organ music. Her faith was mostly private, but so very strong. It sustained her through the challenges of caring for Louise, especially during the nearly three decades following Jean’s death, her husband, our father, who she so dearly loved and missed. Her sacrifices were many, always placing the needs of others before her own. Yet despite the hardships in her life, she radiated that glorious smile and conveyed to all of us her zest for living.
Mom was a quiet but active warrior for human rights, peace, and social justice for all peoples of the world. Many politicians received kudos or a kick in the pants from her. She would often ask me to find the addresses of legislators she wished to contact to share her views on important issues of the day.
Music was one of her passions. Mom was an accomplished and professionally trained organist and pianist. She played nearly every day, finding solace and relaxation through the keyboard. She made great granola, always sending some home with Wes and me. On Sunday afternoons her popcorn popper would be working overtime and she’d enjoy a long telephone visit with her brother, Bud. Another passion was UC basketball. She hardly ever missed a televised game, and followed closely the career of Bob Huggins. Fresh watercress from the farm’s spring was a treat for her.
Whenever I would come to the farm to work and visit, I could depend on mom having a list to go over with me -- a list of chores, repairs, questions, a story or newspaper clipping to share. It was a routine of countless years.
When she died I was in Ontario, Canada, visiting friends. The day before I left I was at the farm for what turned out to be the final “Barry list.” As I was preparing to say goodbye, she said, “There’s just one more thing. I was mowing last evening with the John Deere. I didn’t have my hearing aids in but it sounded funny. Do you think you could take a look at it before you go?” I went to the barn and started the lawn tractor. It fired up with an awful roar, and when I lifted the motor cover I could see the engine literally bouncing on its frame. All of the engine’s mounting bolts were gone and the muffler had broken loose. I have no idea how she was able to mow the night before, but she was right -- it did sound sound a little funny!! Such was life on the farm with mom.
Speaking of the farm, I’ve been asked many times this past week, “What will happen to the farm?” At first I was surprised and even a little put off by the question, but I’ve come to feel that it really reflects that you know how much mom, dad, and our family have cared about Chanyata Farm. While Wes and I haven’t reached any decisions, we can tell you that it will NEVER, let me emphasize NEVER, become a housing development as has happened to so many family farms in Ohio. The spirit of Chanyata will always remain with the land.
My last view of mom was part of another ritual at the farm. Whenever any of us would leave after visiting her, we’d stop part way down the gravel lane and return the wave that was coming from mom as she stood by the kitchen window. She and I waved at each other that last day I was with her, neither of us knowing it would be for the final time. And since her death I’ve caught myself stopping in that same spot on the lane, expecting to see her waving from the window.
The farm is lonely and quiet now, but somehow still peaceful. Mom, I miss you -- and your wave.
Change. . .cont.
Now two brothers must decide the future of Chanyata. We share so many mixed feelings. Since dad’s death in 1976 we have kept the farm going, barely going. Each passing year exposed more wear and tear on the buildings, including the house. Wes and I, each maintaining our own homes, weren’t often able to give the farm the attention it needed. However sometimes there were spurts of activity - a new barn roof, a new heating system for the house, new fencing.
But Nature always wins. Weather and time work so well together in returning “things” to their natural state - through growth and decay.
That’s what’s happening now at Chanyata. We’re still watering the flowers, mowing the grass, and completing minor repairs. But our purpose isn’t the same. It’s for a memory... and that’s sad.
The grand kids, Kate, David, Erin, and Kelly have wonderful memories of the farm - all different, as they should be. I’m glad they have those memories. And yet, memories can be idyllic, even for Wes and I. But there is a reality to face, many of them in fact.
How will taxes be paid. Who will maintain the gravel monster, the lane, that bane of living a quarter mile off the highway (yet a blessing). Other issues are, but not limited to: maintenance, mowing, fighting the auditors new valuations every three years, paying all the utility bills, keeping the cistern and the plumbing system running, holding back the encroachment of forest into tillable acres.
I don’t want the farm to become the tail that wags the dog in my life. I won’t continue to run out there every whip stitch to respond to a new crisis. I don’t choose to live two lives as I have for the past 29 years. Yet I wish Chanyata to still exist in some fashion because I love the land.
Tomorrow’s Posting: Options
