“Mrs. Dunn! Polly sent us the snow flakes!”
It was Pickles the goat, running in joy as I came out for the morning feedings.
I was taken aback. I had just found out myself in a morning email that our loyal volunteer, Polly, had died the night before. She had stage four lung cancer.
I stood silently, the snowflakes falling all around me, as the goats gathered at my feet. I looked at the sky and thought to myself, it is something Polly would do.
“Mrs. Dunn, Polly said she sent the snow so you can put the Christmas bells on the ponies and let them run around in the snow,” Pickles said.
I have been asking for snow, I thought.
Earnest the pig sauntered up to us.
“She was spunky, I liked her,” he said.
“She was kind. She put her arms around me,” said the quiet voice of the very old sheep, Calla.
“Remember when I got to pull her around the barnyard? That was so fun!” said Ollie, the biggest of the goats.
Ollie was referring to a visit here at the farm when some of our elder friends came to be with the animals, and Polly was there to help. I handed her a lead rope, which was attached to Ollie the goat, and told her she was in charge of him. Polly was a petite person, Ollie is about 120 pounds. As I went about helping the elder people, I looked around and there was Ollie pulling Polly around the orchard, showing her every blade of grass and all the apple trees he loved. But Polly had a smile on her face the entire time.
The snow continued to fall.
“Polly is free now,” said Auntie Bea, one of the old goats.
“What does that mean?” said little Hannah the goat.
“She is without a body,” said Auntie Bea, stoically.
“She lost her whole body?!” Hannah cried, and Pickles gasped.
“You don’t need your body forever, Hanna. You just need it here on Earth. But remember how you learned about Here There Everywhere? That is where Polly is and she needs no body for that,” said Earnest the pig.
“Polly is free of pain, Hannah. Her body hurt,” I said.
“Polly doesn’t hurt? This is excellent news then!” said Pickles the goat.
Pickles took Hannah and they ran around in circles in the fluffy dusting on the ground.
I headed to the outer barn to feed the horses and ponies. Harry the llama came over to me, his white fur dusted in flakes. Polly often helped me when we took Harry to visit our elder friends at Cove’s Edge.
“Harry, Polly died last night,” I said.
“I know,” he said. “She told me.”
I watched White Dog roll in the snow. White Dog got his snow, I thought.
I put the Christmas bells on the ponies, and off they ran in the snow, bells jingling. It was pure joy.
“Thank you, Polly,” I said.
{A video of the ponies running with their bells will be on Instagram later this evening.}
